Riding the Wave Home
Posted on 03 Jul 2026 @ 1:25am by Lieutenant Commander Steven Remington & Lieutenant Ryan Collingway
2,292 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Time After Time
Location: Alternate Sherman Oaks/Steve & Ryan
// Heritage Oaks Hotel - Room 110 //
The large, Supreme pizza came unannounced. They had not ordered a pizza, a carton of Coca-Cola, or the two dozen coffee pouches for the tiny coffee maker in the room. It appeared at their door. Without a bill. At first Steve was reluctant to eat or drink. What if it were poisoned or laced with some drug? But finally, with confirmation from the tricorder as to the contents, they finished it off in about 10 minutes. Ryan, who had more or less skipped a meal, definitely had no complaints.
They also discovered there was an ice machine in a breezeway three rooms down and Steve made an ice pack with a trash can liner and a towel for Ryan’s ribs. The Science Officer had taken to referring to the tricorder as Clyde and asked "What’s the best first aid for a bruised rib?”
Clyde responded with a full explanation of treatment: pain relievers, sleep upright, ice, and breathe deeply to avoid fluid buildup in the lungs and possible infection or pneumonia. Do not wrap the chest or restrict the inhalation.
Plagued by a headache, Steve refused to take any of Ryan’s pain meds. Instead, he laid down on the bed for a short nap, while Ryan continued to refine his idea for interfacing the raygun with the tricorder. They had learned the raygun was a smaller version of a standard phase pistol, commonly known as a phaser. The tricorder’s instructions for the phaser’s mechanical use were straightforward and comprehensive. There was also a table of the power settings, and the estimated stun, stop or kill power at those settings. Though it stopped short of the actual feel of pulling the trigger and observing the results, the tutorial made both men feel much more comfortable.
“Use of this combination of commands will result in catastrophic overload," Clyde concluded.
"Overload?" Ryan echoed. "It has an overload setting?"
“Negative. Standard Starfleet phasers are multifunction field instruments capable of defensive, industrial, and emergency engineering applications."
“So how do you create an overload?” asked Ryan.
"Access denied. Starfleet General Safety Protocol 14-7 prohibits instructional guidance for unauthorized modification of energy weapons. Such procedures present an unacceptable risk to personnel and mission objectives."
“How long before it explodes?” Ryan pursued.
“After initialization, 122 seconds.”
"How large of an explosion?”
"Approximately 15 tons of tnt."
"Okay. Thanks Clyde.”
"Please restate the inquiry," Clyde said, not understanding gratitude.
Ryan took a break from tinkering and peered out of the window. The streets were quiet at least. He could see an old man pushing an ice cream cart. Probably for the nighttime folks wanting a treat in the summer weather. He thought for a moment how unlikely that was going to be, when all of a sudden a flurry of memories clicked into place.
He had bought two ice creams at the Starfall Carnival because he knew the line-up was going to be long.
A woman. So bubbly and positive she might have had an internal sun to power her. He had made a cart for her too.
They had kissed under a meteor shower.
"Alura..." Ryan said slowly, testing the name.
This place had made him forget her.
Ryan firmly shook his head. Not again. He was going to get out of here. Exhaustion was biting at him though. He glanced at the sleeping Steve, and sighed. He should probably do the same. Who knew when he would get another opportunity. He needed to think. Moving to the club chair he shortly felt into a fitful sleep.
Steve awoke wide eyed with a new idea. What if the temporal distortion happened again? How could they anticipate that? That was the real value in the timeline as it related to the sensor readings for the last 10 seconds of the recording. He got up quietly. It was still dark outside. He checked the clock. He had only been asleep for about 90 minutes. He felt grubby, wanted to clean his teeth; he wanted a shower, but his new idea was too tempting to be delayed. He looked first at Ryan in the club chair. Even in sleep the man’s face showed the pain.
He spoke softly trying not to awaken his companion. “Clyde, can you tell if this anomaly we were caught in has happened before, or has happened again since this recording was made?”
“Affirmative. The residual level of Chroniton particles indicates at least one previous event prior to the Away Team’s arrival. Based upon current Chroniton particle density, a second such event occurred approximately six hours and twenty-seven minutes after the one you experienced.”
“Extrapolate from the sensor data if another event is currently building,” Steve said.
“Affirmative, another event is due to occur in approximately two hours, forty-eight minutes and 37 seconds.”
Steve glanced again at the alarm clock on the bedside table. “That’s 6:30, roundabout,” he mused. “Clyde, why were we not affected here when the anomaly occurred six hours ago?”
“The phenomenon appears to be localized to the 200-400 blocks of Oak Street, Sherman Oaks, California.”
"Hmmm?" Ryan said, waking up. "What is it?"
“Hey, Ryan. I’ve got something here.” He address Clyde again. “This is a temporal flux issue. Is there a way to go back to our original location before the event?”
“Insufficient data. Please clarify the desired objective?”
“We rode that event like a wave, like a surfer, but wiped out and ended up here. Can we ride that temporal wave out of this reality back to where we came from, assuming we don’t wipe out and get caught in the undertow?”
“Unknown. Theoretical possibility.”
“What are our chances?”
“Chances of survival are 97%. Chances of return to the original temporal timeline are 88.6%.”
“Ryan, we have two hours and forty-five minutes to be at the origin point of this next temporal event and we might get back where we came from,” said Steve. “89% chance,” he added optimistically.
"I'll take those odds," Ryan said, gathering their equipment. "Let's go.”
As they opened the door, both started at the approach of the office clerk.
“Morning,” said the clerk. “I’ve been here a while, and seen a lot of strange things in this town. People show up and they disappear, not just leave. Disappear, and I’ve learned when the police get involved, it’s never pretty. Get out of here while you can. The bus starts running at 4am just half a block down. Take it to the Bus Station and get a bus as far away as this will take you.”
He took Ryan’s hand and slapped several well-worn $20s and a city map in his palm. “No arguments. Just go.”
Ryan nodded. He didn't know if this was a result of their subconscious or if there was something more to this place. But he didn't have time to find out. "Thank you," he simply said.
// A Side Street :: Sherman Oak, CA //
They paid for their bus ride, but not to the Bus Station. The map had the bus routes marked and it would take three different buses to get to Oak Street.
It would be close...but they could make it.
Ryan nodded to the bus driver as they got off the second bus. The bus driver's eyes narrowed. Once his passengers had departed, he made a call on his 2-way radio.
///Police cruiser////
"Got it," the Police Chief said, and headed to the area where they would likely be going. He keyed his radio and was acknowledged by a man's voice. "Tell the hospital to prepare a room. Two patients. Round-the-clock security."
"Yes sir," the voice responded.
The Police Chief turned off his radio. By the time he was done, both Collingway and his friend wouldn't be able to so much as move. Not until Aster said otherwise.
The holding frame demanded nothing less.
///Oak Street////
They got off the last bus onto quiet Oak Street at first light. They walked up the street through the 200 block and the 300 block. Once there, Clyde had been able to determine the exact coordinates of the origin of the upheaval.
“Ok, we have to be right in the front of that wave. Ever gone surfing on the ocean or watched video of it?” asked Steve.
"More or less," Ryan said.
“We have to ride it in the curl then float up and over the wave before it breaks over into chaos. That’s our goal. And I don’t know how we do that, if we have to run, or swim or just float on the wave. We won’t know until it starts to rise under us,” Steve explained.
They both heard an airborne vehicle, a helicopter appeared over the other end of the street. making its way slowly back and forth, obviously searching the street and back yards of the houses.
“We gotta get off the street.” said Steve, and the two made their way quickly in the waxing light of dawn to hide under a large, low-growing tree in the front yard of the nearest house. The helicopter passed overhead, zig-zagging, searching.
Time until the event was due to begin was seven minutes and fourteen seconds.
“This is tight. When the ground starts to heave up we gotta leave this safe spot and run. You up for that?” asked Steve.
"If the choice is staying here, I'll definitely run," Ryan said, watching the helicopter closely.
They remained still under the shadow of the large shrub.
Six minutes and eleven seconds.
The helicopter moved back up the street. Sweat trickled down Steve’s spine. He reached behind and tapped the t-shirt to absorb the moisture. They know we’re here. How’d they know?
Four minutes and twenty-one seconds.
Suddenly, they heard a dry click behind them. "You're not leaving this place," the police chief said, emerging from behind a tree. “Come out of there,” he commanded.
Steve hovered near Ryan’s back and whispered, "Throw your combadge down. I’ll tell him it’s a bomb."
“We don’t have time for this,” complained Steve as he and Ryan emerged from beneath the low branches of the shrub.
“Stand over there and throw down your weapons on the grass,” said the Chief.
“We don’t have any weapons,” replied Steve.
“Yeah, and I’m a bulldog climbing a plate glass window. One more time. Drop your weapons or you lose a kneecap.”
One minute four seconds.
Ryan sighed in defeat, shrugged, then casually tossed his combadge to the ground, which landed behind the police chief. "This guy is a real pain in the ass.”
Steve also threw down his combadge. “I don’t think this is the time for casual conversation, Chief,” said Steve, more or less successfully sounding relaxed. "There is more going on here than meets the eye.”
“Yeah, like what?” asked the Police officer.
“The device is actually going to blow up shortly and we all need to get the hell away from here if we want to be able to continue to count all our fingers and toes,” replied Steve, more convincing this time.
"You're lying," the Chief said.
"15 tons of TNT's worth. I wouldn't mind seeing you explode," Ryan said flatly.
Fifty-seven seconds.
The Chief turned and looked behind him, stepping away from it.
Ryan pulled his phaser and fired. The officer shuddered, eyes wide and unseeing, and collapsed on the grass. He was still breathing.
Fourteen seconds.
The ground started to shake. Ryan blinked in astonishment as he retrieved the combadges. He could see little green lines glowing within the sod of the lawn. The phenomenon extended quickly to the sidewalk and across the width of the street. Reality itself was beginning to blur. The grass about ten feet in front of them shifted and lifted.
The event had begun.
“Come on.” Steve began to run, leaving the police officer behind and ascending the rising berm of grass. He scurried over the top of the hill of grass and turned to be sure Ryan was behind him.
Locking arms, they slid down the other side of the mounding wave. It moved slow, like lava. The surface was spongy, no longer solid. Too soft to easily stand and maintain balance, while the wave grew beneath them. They sat down on the jelly-like surface.
“Float,” cried Steve.
For Ryan, it felt as though he was pulled in every possible direction while suffocating as well. He tried to control his breathing as a fog of different colored lights surrounded them.
Steve was barely able to keep his feet from sinking and focused on trying to float on a surface that felt like honey. Deafening sound, amplified exponentially, vibrated the very air and assaulted their senses. Bursts of colored light exploded around them. It was like being caught in an expanding nebula.
Steve was aware of being conscious, aware of wondering what this was, and aware that Clyde was still clutched in his hand. “Interesting,” he thought before a flash blinded him, then ...
Silence. Merciful silence. dusk. The sun hovered just above the horizon. They had been deposited on the empty lawn of a white house with blue trim. The street was empty. Still Sherman Oaks, but... different.
Ryan glanced at Steve, giving him an encouraging nod and handed him one of the combadges.
Steve’s hand was shaking as he took the device in his right hand and tapped the surface with his left. He took a breath. “Commander Batenburg. This is Steve Remington. Do you read me?”
TBC
~~~
LtCmdr Steve Remington
Chief Science Officer
USS Arawyn
Lieutenant Ryan Collingway
Acting Chief Engineering Officer
USS Arawyn
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