Shifting Sands (A Star Trek: The Next Generation Fan Fiction)

Chapter One

I quickly looked around and then darted into the brightly-lit corridor. It was empty, as I had expected, but I had no way of knowing how long it would stay that way. On a ship as large as this, no area would stay clear for long.

Hurrying along the hallway, I read the door numbers in quick succession. A few seconds later, I paused and tapped a few buttons on the panel. Apparently, I had found the one that I was looking for. The door slid open with a whoosh and I stepped inside.

Once inside the darkened room, I glanced around. My eyes grew wide as I surveyed my surroundings. Something was wrong. The area was much larger than I had expected, and was furnished with couches and a table, among other things. Through the large windows, I could see the space station and the stars beyond. Slowly, the reality dawned on me: I was in the wrong room. I was in somebody's quarters.

Trying to fight down panic, I closed her eyes and remembered the map of the ship that I had acquired. It had clearly marked this room as a storage cabinet, of that I was sure. I had planned my entire strategy around this room.

I cursed the man who had sold me the statistics; the Napean had obviously known that they were incorrect. Right now, however, revenge was the least of my problems. At the top of my list was getting out of here without being thrown in the brig, or worse. I had heard that Federation officers weren't as harsh as Cardassians or Romulans, for example, but I wasn't quite ready to test that theory.

I turned back toward the door. I never made it out. As I was approaching it, I heard voices from outside. Then the door began to slide open. Panic filled me, and I did the first thing that came into my mind. Without warning, I was gone. In my place sat a yellow, tiger-striped cat.

The door opened, and behind it stood two men.

"The diagnostic won't be done until at least...1900," stated one of the men. "There's not much we can do until it's complete."

"Alright, but the Captain won't like it if it holds up our departure."

"I'll do the best I can, but if some of the relays are fried it'll take until tonight to fix."

"Just do the best you can."

"Yes, sir."

One of the men departed, but the other turned and entered the quarters. Slowly, the cat–me–retreated, the fur on its back raising as it did so.

It was then that the man noticed me. Staring at me, he stopped walking.

"What the hell?" he asked. I stared up at him. He was just as, if not more, surprised as I was. This gave me some small degree of comfort. I had a greater change of getting away if he was caught off-guard as well.

"How'd you get in here?" he asked, crouching down so he was closer to me. I hissed at him, and continued to back away. My mind was cycling through options, dismissing each as it came along. I could attack him and dart out, but he looked strong and he would probably end up hurting me. I could always turn into some microscopic creature and get away that way, but the last thing that I needed was for them to know that there was a shape-shifter on board. I cursed myself for transforming into a cat in the first place. Apparently my stress-addled brain was not as making decisions in panic situations as I had hoped. Therefore, for right now, I was just a cat.

The man paused, studying me. I studied him back. I decided that he was in his mid-thirties, but his age was hard to guess. He had a short beard that covered his face. As my eyes moved down to his clothing, I started. The man had three complete pips on his collar, marking his rank as Commander. With all likelihood, he was the first officer of this ship.