HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

The room had two beds, covered in a thin silvery blue blanket with an odd design woven into the fabric of the blanket. Joe cocked his head. "Looks like an A but all weird." He turned around to study the room more. Originally, they would have gone with T'Leira but at the last moment, she decided it was better – safer – for them to stay in the VIP quarters.

Frank rolled his eyes. The doors swishing open and closed were starting to get on his nerves, so once he discovered the closet and bathroom, he'd settled down on one of the beds. "Feels like those thermal blankets people use for camping in cold weather."

Joe shrugged and his blue eyes drifted to the main door. Frank shook his head. "No, Joe. Unless you want Kirk to throw us in the brig."

"How do you know there's a brig?"

"Ranks, nautical terms. This may not be on the ocean, but there's a military feel here. I'm sure there's a brig."

Joe sighed and sat down on the other bed. "Not too cushiony."

"You once said a hard bed was good for the back."

Joe gave his brother a look. "I was being sarcastic. What else was I supposed to say after spending a night in an Egyptian jail?"

Frank rolled his eyes and looked around. A latticework privacy partition kept the beds separate from the rest of the room. It was almost like a one-room apartment, one half for sleeping, one half for living. There was a small table with chairs, two built-in desks and chairs with computer monitors but no keyboards or visible CPUs.

Joe got up off the bed and wandered over to one monitor. "How does it work, I wonder, telepathy, you think? Where's Leigh when you need her?"

Frank got up and walked over to one of the monitors. "Be nice."

"She's—" Joe pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. "Frank, I don't much like this dream anymore."

Frank looked over at him. "What makes you think I'm dreaming this?"

"Well, last I remember I wasn't sick, so it can't be me. It has to be you."

"You're the one who likes science-fiction shows. You're the one dreaming."

"How about I pinch you, wake you up."

Frank grunted. "Nope. I'll gladly pinch you though."

"I'm not the one dreaming." Joe shook his head. "Time travel is not possible. There's no way to get from point A to point B."

"Some theories say that time is like a river. You can get out and go back in anywhere you choose."

"Theories, shmeries, that is so lame." Joe folded his arms across his chest and glared at the blank monitor. "Computer, my—"

The monitor blinked on and revealed a soft blue screen. "Working," came an automated female voice.

Joe and Frank shared a surprised look. Frank leaned closer to look at the monitor. "It's voice-activated." Frank stared at the monitor for a moment and then said, "Computer, where are we?"

"Specify," came the automated voice.

"This room," said Joe. "Where are we?"

"Deck Six, Starboard. VIP quarters."

Frank took a deep breath. "What kind of ship is this?"

"Constitution-class starship. USS Enterprise, NCC 1701."

Joe's blue eyes widened. "What year is this?"

"Stardate three-seven-six-four-point-nine. Old Earth dating system, 14 January 2268 ."

Joe jerked in his chair, making it roll backwards. "No freaking way. That's—" Joe shook his head, stunned.

Frank swallowed hard. "How far away are we from...Earth?"

"Fourteen-point-eight lightyears. Current heading, mark four-oh-seven."

Frank took a step back, shaking his head. "A lightyear is—" He looked over at Joe. "Oh my God, we're in the future."

An odd sounding chime startled both brothers and a moment later, the door slid open. T.J. stood there with C.K. and Jakob from the table they'd shared earlier. "Hey, guys, you getting bored in here?"

C.K. smiled at them. "We thought we'd alleviate the boredom, show you two around."

"Yeah, maybe T.J. can play a game or two with you. Maybe he'll actually beat someone."

Joe arched an eyebrow. "Depends on the game."

Frank frowned. "Joe—"

"Battleship. Good classic strategy game," said T.J., rubbing his hands together. "You game?" he added with a smirk.

Joe grinned. "You kidding? I wouldn't pass it up for the world."

"I think he means yes," said C.K., before T.J. could ask.

"Woohoo. Let's roll," said T.J.

The brothers followed T.J. and the others out of the room and down the corridor. They came to a turbolift and piled in. T.J. looked at Jakob. "How did we play 'Run Silent, Run Deep'?"

"What? You don't remember?" asked Jakob, looking stunned. "It's not like it was six months ago." Jakob slapped his forehead. "Oh silly me, it was." He nodded to Frank and Joe. "Short term memory loss."

Frank arched an eyebrow. "I'm sorry."

"Not me," said Jakob with a grin. He jabbed a thumb in T.J.'s direction. "Him."

T.J. blinked. "Hey, that was an insult, wasn't it." He looked at C.K. "Wasn't it?"

C.K. held up both hands as if he were stopping traffic. "Don't get me in the middle of this."

T.J. looked at C.K. who was standing between him and Jakob and then looked at Jakob. He pointedly looked back at C.K. "Why not? You already are."

The turbolift doors slid apart and Frank turned to see the lounge again but this time there were more people seated at tables, relaxing in comfortable chairs. He noticed some tables seemed to actually project images of games for people to play.

"Hologames," said Jakob as they passed by one table where two men were flying biplanes. He paused a moment and nodded. "Hey, Zeke, the Red Baron again?"

Zeke didn't pay him any mind and Jakob grinned as they continued through the room. Jakob pointed to small seating area next to the huge panoramic view of the stars. "Here."

"Jakob, what are you doing?"

T'Leira stood there, frowning at Jakob. She slid a glance at Frank and Joe and then focused on Jakob. "Well?"

"Oh, man, they were bored to tears in their quarters. See the remnants of a crying jag?"

Joe arched both eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"C'mon, T'Leira, how you would like to be stuck in your quarters locked away from all the excitement?" asked T.J. "Anyway, today's my birthday and my request was new blood."

"Always knew you were a vampire," said C.K., not even bothering to hide his smirk.

Frank's eyes went wide. "Oh my God, I just realized..."

"We're all insane and it's contagious?" asked Jakob. He skittered away from T.J. "Aagh!"

"You remind me.." Frank cleared his throat. "You remind me of these guys we met – they're in a band, um..." He glanced at Joe, as if asking for a little assistance.

Joe frowned a moment and then it dawned on him too. "They're a music group called Sorcerer, they like to goof off like that."

Jakob's amused expression faded into something again to shock. "What?"

Joe took a step back, wondering if he'd offended the man. "I don't mean to—"

"You said Sorcerer – the music group." T'Leira took a deep breath. "You actually know them?"

"Uh, yeah. We met when they came to our hometown," said Frank.

Jakob stared at Joe and Frank for a long moment. "Oh my God, you actually met them."

Joe cocked his head to one side. "Hey, how do you know about them? Their music is still popular?"

"It's making a comeback," said C.K. He glanced at Jakob but when the man seemed unable to say anything, C.K. shrugged and looked back at the brothers. "Jakob is a direct descendent of Ian Ramsey."

Joe and Frank stared at C.K., absolutely stunned. Joe took a deep breath. "Wow."

"Actually we're all connected in a way," spoke a new voice.

Frank turned to see the man Jakob had called Zeke walk up to them. He remembered the man's full name was Ezekiel Farwalker. "You're Native American, aren't you."

"Yes, I am a rare breed in this day and time, to still acknowledge my heritage." Zeke nodded to Jakob. "We are all connected. I can trace my lineage to a Wade Abbott. He was married to a Heather Sinclair who is a cousin to the lead singer of Sorcerer."

"Did you know that when you first met?" asked Joe, the game completely forgotten.

Jakob cleared his throat. "It was T'Leira who discovered it, researching her own human ancestry."

Joe frowned. "So who are all of you?"

"You met everyone at the lunch table," answered T'Leira in that precise way of hers. "All of them can trace their lineage back to a particular person who was kin to another one's ancestor. For example, Tyler and Conor's ancestors can trace back to a single individual if you go back two generations further."

"So you actually met Ian Ramsey and the other band members," said Jakob in a tone of awe.

Frank nodded. "Yeah. We really enjoyed hanging with them."

T.J. narrowed his eyes. "So how does that time travel thing work, hmm? Think we could go back in time?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Tyler , no one would want you," said Callista Whitfield from the table she was sitting at.

"You be quiet, woman, or I'll throw you in the brig." T.J. thought for a heartbeat. "I'll have Conor do it, since he's in Security."

"Don't get me in trouble with anybody." Conor Griffin walked up, nodded to Frank and Joe and looked at everyone else. "Why are we all just standing here? I see empty chairs."

"We were just about to play Battleship," said C.K.

Conor groaned. "Oh no, not again. The last game took four hours."

"Three hours, forty-five minutes and eight seconds, get your facts straight," said T.J. He led the way to a low square table and gestured to Jakob. "You do the honors."

"Why?"

"Because it's my birthday."

Jakob let out a rude sigh and reached for a door set flush with the table's support. He pulled it open and pulled out a metal box. He set it on the tabletop and opened it. In a matter of minutes he had the game set up. Unlike the more familiar bright blue and red plastic cases that held the ships and pegs, one was a soft silvery gray, the other an iridescent ice blue.

Joe saw that the pegs were also gray and blue rather than red and white. The tiny ships were the same silvery gray and seemed to shimmer. Jakob took a step back. "Traditionally, the loser always gets the gray."

T.J. grunted. "Traditionally. Maybe that's why I lose."

"Whatever," muttered Jakob.

"This could get very interesting," said Conor, pulling up a chair.

Joe sat down in a low silver chair in front of the blue case. Inside it looked just like the Battleship game he was familiar with. He picked up a small ship and noticed it had a name. "The ships have names?"

Jakob cleared his throat. "I guess I should have warned you. You may never have played this version before."

"Version?" asked Frank.

T.J. nodded. "See the dark smoke gray plastic the ships go in? That's not an ocean, that's space. Each ship is based on an actual vessel." He held up one of his and Frank thought it looked very odd with an elongated shape. With it's bulbous front end and backswept angled 'wings', it made him think of a bird. "It's called a Bird of Prey," added T.J., as if he'd read Frank's mind. "You see, I get enemy ships. Your brother's got Starfleet ships."

"No wonder you lose," said Robyn Bannister as she walked up behind Jakob. "The enemy is always defeated, Tyler ."

"Playing the evil guy's more fun. I can practice my maniacal laugh."

Joe cleared his throat, and placed his ships carefully. "So who goes first?"

"I lost last time, I get to go this time. B-10."

Joe arched an eyebrow. "Miss."

Jakob leaned over and whispered something in Joe's ear. He stepped back and grinned. T.J. frowned. "Conspiring against me already?"

"I merely told him when you two decide to play the Run Silent, Run Deep version, he's allowed to move his ships."

T.J. grunted again and hunched down over his board. He peeked over the top to look at Joe. "What are you waiting for? Hit me."

"You want to get hit?"

"Well, no, but as usual, I have no say in the matter."

Frank shook his head and finally pulled up a chair to sit by Conor. "How is it all of you are friends?"

"Met up at the Academy." Conor took a deep breath. "If memory serves, it would be similar to your West Point ."

"So it is military."

"Yes and no. We have the weapons, the big guns to fight but we prefer to keep the peace." Conor gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Doesn't always work."

"What happened earlier to the ship, why did it seem to list?"

Conor shifted his gaze from the game to Frank. "You talk like you've been on a ship before. An ocean-going ship."

"I have, several times. What happened?"

Conor sighed. "I'm not so sure I should say much. We're here to mediate a dispute. This planet we're orbiting was apparently inhabited when the earth colony came here around a hundred years ago. The people in the planning department weren't aware of it and so the colonists and natives have been having little tussles, skirmishes, nothing major. That was a hundred years ago and a lot has changed."

Frank tried to wrap his mind around another livable planet. "Oh?"

"The natives weren't native and yet they're pressuring the colonists to leave. The colonists say that the planet is big enough for the both of them."

"But the kind of firepower to affect the ship, would they have that?"

Conor looked over at Frank. "You're very perceptive. Normally, no. But the natives have a little help."

Frank narrowed his eyes. "So it's become a war."

Conor looked weary. "Yes. You know, humans left earth to avoid the wars and the fighting and everywhere we go, we keep finding wars and bloodshed. There's no such thing as a utopia."

Frank stared out the window at the stars glittering against the black backdrop of space. "But how did we get here?"

"That's another story entirely." Conor shifted in his seat, looked around and seemed satisfied to see everyone looking at the game. "It was a multi-parallel space-time inversion."

Frank went blank. "A what?"

"That's what I said. That's what Dusty told me and she said Lieutenant Scott told her. He's been trying to work on it to get you two back where you belong but..." Conor shrugged again. "Then this popped up."

Frank sat there, stunned. How on earth were they to get home now?

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.