Yesterday Once More, Part 1

Star Trek Spashley.
Rated U.

Never let it be said that I don’t have my finger on the pulse of the (dwindling but loyal) Spashley community. I know what you’ve all been thinking but, up until now, you have been afraid to utter out loud: you loved Clom’s Firefly Spashley so much that you wished all of South of Nowhere had been set in space. You might even call it the final frontier. No need to thank me. Just enjoy.

[If you’re not a Star Trek fan, don’t be afraid. You don’t really need to like it or watch it to enjoy the Spashley action herein.]

Rating: U

Our usual disclaimers apply: the Star Trek universe is owned by Paramount Pictures and CBS Paramount Television/CBS Television. We mean them no harm. Live long and prosper.

On a technical note, I am a geek but not a complete fangirl, so there may be some licence taken and some mistakes made. I’ve tried to limit both, but I apologise in advance if I get something Voyager-y way off base.

* * * * *

Star Date 52634.8

The newly-promoted Lieutenant Junior Grade Spencer Carlin adjusted her uniform for what felt like the hundredth time in the previous few minutes. She could not understand how Starfleet had managed to design such uncomfortable away team jackets. They were too hot when it was already warm, offered no warmth when it was freezing, and they rode up throughout the day if you attempted anything more strenuous than sitting still.

Reaching up behind her neck, she checked that her ponytail was still in place and no wisps of hair were hanging free. She then picked some invisible lint from the bright blue top of her uniform jacket, and ran her fingers over the two studs at the neck of her grey shirt. The second, black one had recently been pinned on her by Captain Janeway in recognition of her elevation in status from Ensign. It was that extra pip which had secured her latest assignment: her first ever away mission.

After four years working in the Airponics laboratory, she had been promoted to Reconnaissance. Main crew duties like Engineering and Operations (Ops) were divided into three rotations, but Recon had only two. The more experienced science officers were on the A rotation. She had been assigned to Rotation B.

Her new team’s job was to scan all the planets and moons in each system for the resources that Voyager so desperately required and, if appropriate, to take away teams down to the surface to recover—Starfleet did not scavenge or steal, she noted, even though those were the more appropriate terms—any plants, vegetables or minerals which were freely available. Each mission had to be thoroughly researched and complex eco-modelling undertaken; nothing should be taken that would negatively impact on the planet.

Roughly speaking, the A rotation got to visit inhabited planets, while the B rotation visited the planets with nothing but rocks and lakes of fire and noxious death clouds. Nonetheless, Spencer had no doubt that her new job was a huge honour and she was just a little bit terrified of not being able to live up to it. She rolled her shoulders to try to relax as she shuffled between standing to attention and at ease.

The shuttle bay doors opened and the familiar blue face of Ensign Golwat, her Bolian engineering officer, greeted her.

“Sir, Ensign Golwat reporting for duty, sir!” Golwat stood to attention in front of Spencer. Spencer relaxed as she realised that her friend was just yanking her chain with the over-formal greeting.

“At ease, Ensign.” She lightly slapped her friend on the shoulder. “You’re real funny.”

“Well, now that you’re an LJG, you’re not one of the little people any more.” Golwat dropped her kit bag onto the floor of the shuttle bay. “Are we getting Pablo?” Pablo Baytart was one of the better pilots on the ship, and he covered most of the B rotation missions. He was also trying to teach Spencer to juggle as part of his ongoing mission to get her to lighten up a little.

“I think so.”

Golwat popped her head inside the Delta Flyer and confirmed that no-one was inside. “Well, at least it’s not that buttmunching little brown-nose, Harry Kim.”

Spencer tried to suppress a chuckle. “Golwat! You know we shouldn’t talk about senior bridge officers like that!”

“Oh, come on! You’ve called him much worse. He’s the only person on this crew that you dislike more than the Delaney sisters.”

“I don’t dislike the Delaney sisters. I hardly know them. I just think they’re—” She tried to think of the right word. “Unprofessional.”

Golwat rolled her eyes. “You mean easy.”

On any crew, there was a certain amount of rumour and gossip. On Voyager, the sexual exploits of Jenny and Megan Delaney had reached mythical proportions, all the more so because the twins refused to confirm or deny anything.

“I just think that if anyone said those sort of things about me, I would do everything I could to correct them.”

“Trust me, Lieutenant, no-one has ever said anything like that about you.”

Spencer knew that some of the crew found her stand-offish, but she didn’t see the point in accepting casual dates. They were tens of thousands of light years from home. If you broke up with someone, you might be stuck on-board with them with them for sixty or seventy years. For that reason, many of the single crew—and even some of the married ones whose partners were a lifetime away—conducted their romantic encounters off-ship. In fact, many of them would be trying to find a little companionship at that very moment.

Voyager was in orbit above the homeworld of an austere race known as the Kadi. The crew had been given rolling shore leave, and most had elected to transport over to a space station in orbit around the planet. Technically a trading post, the station had a reputation for vice of all sorts: drinking, gambling, temporary quarters available for short rents.

Spencer did not intend to beam across for her own shore leave. She would be moving out of her shared quarters up on Deck 12 and into her new single berth—another perk of her promotion—on Deck 6. There, she intended to do nothing more than read and relax for a few days. She had most recently been trying to teach herself some basic Klingon to little effect. It was not an easy language to pick up.

“Boss,” Charlie Quizzlink acknowledged her with a curt nod as he reported for duty. “Hey, Golwat.” He looked around. “No sign of Pablo yet?”

“Nope,” the Bolian said. “He’s been on leave. Maybe he got delayed beaming back across from the space station.”

“He was on board at 1500 hours,” Spencer said. “In main engineering, in fact.” She had checked as soon as she had heard that he was their most likely choice for pilot.

Charlie nodded. “So, what’s the plan, then?”

Spencer shrugged. “We’ve to collect some galacite. A rich seam of it appears to be running through a system of caves that stretches for a few kilometres down from the surface.” At her friends’ worried glances, she reassured them, “Don’t worry. There should be plenty near the top end for our needs. We won’t have to go cave diving. There’s also a list of shrubs and herbs that Neelix has put together that he wants for the mess hall.”

Charlie groaned. “More nettle soup!”

“I think he wants to dry these to use as herbs,” Spencer said.

“Oh, just nettle-flavoured soup. Well, that makes all the difference.” Charlie shook his head as Golwat murmured her agreement.

Everyone accepted that Neelix did his best with the crew meals, given the limited supplies and only restricted access to the replicators, but even Spencer occasionally wished for something that wasn’t green and sludgy.

“We’ll have a full mission briefing once we’re all on board. It’s at least a four-hour flight, so you’ll both have plenty of time to moan about the catering.”

“Four hours is nowhere near long enough to list everything that’s wrong with that slop Neelix calls food,” Charlie replied.

Spencer shook her head. “Well, then, in that case, I look forward to hearing about it on the four-hour trip back, too.”

Charlie and Golwat started to load their gear onto the shuttle, but Spencer held back. Her training taught her that, irrespective of rank, the pilot of any shuttle was in charge of what happened on that craft and you did not board until given leave to do so. She didn’t want to overstep her boundaries on her first day in a command position, so she remained standing, still unsure as to whether she should be at ease or more formally to attention.

“You ever been on the Flyer before?” Charlie asked Spencer.

“No, never. I’ve only ever been on the old shuttles.”

“You’re gonna love it. It’s faster and sleeker and it just feels different.”

“That’ll be the tetraburnium hull, which makes her more aerodynamic than anything Starfleet has to offer,” a third person said from behind Spencer. “She’s a joy to fly.”

Charlie and Spencer turned around in surprise. Standing there, her arms folded across her chest and a smirk on her face, was Ensign Ashley Davies.

“You’re not Pablo!” Spencer said in a tone that she instantly wished had not been quite so incredulous.

The ensign uncrossed her arms and looked down at herself. “I’m certainly not. You don’t miss much, do you?”

Ensign Davies was also one of the primary topics of ship gossip. The single most popular rumour on Voyager was that Ensign Davies was the only person to have slept with both Megan and Jenny Delaney—in a threesome on the holodeck, no less. The story got more sexually ambitious and physically infeasible every time it was re-told. No-one really believed it to be true, but a lot of the single male crew wished it were so.

Although Ensign Davies hung out with the other pilots and could often be found in the mess hall or the communal holo-programs, people actually knew very little about her. Spencer read in her crew record that she had been born and raised on Turkana IV, one of the most lawless planets in any star system, but, depending on who you asked, her heritage was a disputed mix of Turkanian, Betazoid, Bajoran and even Klingon. The last part had no physical evidence that Spencer could see—there were no prominent or even recessive ridges on the brunette’s forehead—but she had heard that the Ensign had enough aggression to be mistaken for having Klingon blood.

She had no personal opinion of the ensign because they barely knew each other. They had always been on different shifts and, despite the fact that it was a small crew, it was perfectly possible to pass your time on-board without getting to know everyone. Spencer couldn’t even remember a time when they had had an actual conversation. As a result, all Spencer knew for certain was what had been in her record: that the ensign was an excellent pilot; that she was occasionally disrespectful to those in authority; and that she was confident to the point of arrogance. As far as Spencer was concerned, the rebellious nature and unshakeable self-belief were fairly standard traits of every good pilot she had ever known.

“Well, we’re glad to have you on the team, Ensign Davies.” She tried for a welcoming and authoritative tone, although she still felt flustered by her original outburst and hoped her discomfort was not showing. The heat she could feel in her cheeks hinted that she wasn’t doing so well on that front. “Should we board now?”

“Sure.” Ensign Davies didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the greeting she’d received. “Let’s get this show on the road. The sooner we’re on this rock, the sooner we’re back off it. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ve got an appointment with some well-earned R&R in two days and I intend to keep it.” She leapt up the ramp into the shuttle.

Spencer shook her head. “We’re not going to be gone two days. This mission’s scheduled to last no more than eighteen hours.”

Ensign Davies settled into the pilot’s chair and ran her hands lovingly across the console in front of her. “With all due respect, Lieutenant, that’s not the first time I’ve heard that and there’s a good reason why we’re in this shuttle and not one of the standard craft you left Starbase with.”

“Oh, yes?” Spencer took the seat next to the young pilot. “And why would that be?”

The other woman smirked as she went through the standard pre-flight checks on the instruments in front of her. “Because, Lieutenant, all of the original shuttles are scattered in a billion tiny pieces across this quadrant, destroyed on easy away missions that weren’t scheduled to last more than eighteen hours.”

+

After the Delta Flyer departed Voyager’s shuttle bay, Spencer moved to the rear of the craft and began her briefing.

Although their unnamed destination had been identified as an M-class planet capable of supporting humanoid respiration, the base temperatures were much higher than they were used to, so constant rehydration would be an issue. The atmospheric conditions in the upper ionosphere would give the sky a lavender hue and the ground vegetation an ethereal glow. She brought up the geological maps of the cave system on the eastern continent of the unnamed planet they were heading towards and talked Golwat and Charlie through the plan to extract the galacite. Given the structure and composition of the planet’s rock formations, blasting it out with phasers would not be practical, so they would have to use the old-fashioned method of chipping the ore from the rock out by hand. She also talked over the herbs and roots required for the ship’s kitchen.

Once the briefing was completed, she handed over PADDs with the full details loaded onto them. She also gave Charlie and Golwat tricorders which had been adapted to look for the exact signature of the ore required, even though Spencer knew that Golwat would be better able to tell what they were looking for just by sight. After four years, few had a more in-depth knowledge of the grades of ores and minerals needed to augment Voyager’s engines than the Bolian.

Ensign Davies did not pay any attention to the briefing. Perhaps their pilot did not envision leaving the shuttle at all and therefore didn’t really care about any of it but, then, Spencer thought, what was the point of space exploration if you didn’t explore?

They were, in fact, nearly an hour into their four-hour journey before Ensign Davies spoke for the first time since departure.

“Computer, play some Delvok.”

Delvok was a Vulcan composer who specialised in soothing harmonics. The work was almost lyrical and emotional. Spencer was surprised at the choice, given what she had been told of Ensign Davies’ character.

“An unusual choice,” she said, moving from her seat at the rear of the craft to the chair next to the pilot.

“Does it bother you?” The brunette was fixated on the small screens on her display. “I can turn it off if you like. I just find it helps me think.”

“No, no, it’s quite beautiful. Just—”

“Not what you’d expect from an uneducated Tarkanian?”

“I wouldn’t, I mean, I’d never say anything as insulting as that.”

Ashley shrugged. “Most people seem to think that Tarkanians are just like Klingons without the manners and breeding.”

“I wouldn’t know. You’re the only Tarkanian I’ve ever met, and I hardly know you at all,” Spencer said. “I just meant that not many people appreciate Delvok. He’s definitely one of the more obscure Vulcan composers.”

“So you think that someone like me couldn’t appreciate obscure Vulcan composers?”

“I’m just happy to find someone else who shares my interest.” Spencer didn’t like the implication behind Ensign Davies’s tone that she was judging her unfairly when, in fact, she was trying not to judge at all.

“Mmm.” The ensign went back to her study of the readings in front of her. “I think we might have to change course slightly. There’s an ion storm above the planet.”

“Yeah?” Spencer leaned over slightly to try to see what the ensign could see on her screens.

“I think we could miss the worst of it if we enter the upper atmosphere here,” she indicated a point on her screen above the south-western continent, “and then fly under the storm at, say, three or four kilometres.”

“Will that impact on time much?”

Ensign Davies tapped some figures into another console at her left hand and shook her head. “Maybe thirty minutes, give or take. Will that affect your ground mission?”

“No. Nothing we’re doing is time-dependent. We could take four hours or four days to get there and it wouldn’t make any difference.”

“If it takes four days, I’ll miss my shore leave and that would make a pretty big difference to me!”

In only two brief conversations, Ensign Davies had now mentioned her shore leave twice. Spencer definitely got the impression that it was pretty important to her. Perhaps she had a date or was in a relationship with another crewmember; just because the on-board rumour mill hadn’t picked up on it didn’t mean it couldn’t be true. Equally, maybe she just needed some time away from her duties. Not everyone was cut out for a career in Starfleet.

Spencer personally couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Her parents were both members of Starfleet Medical, her mother as a doctor and her father as a ship’s counsellor, and her brother was an engineer at Starbase 121. She started studying for the Starfleet entrance exam when she was thirteen. Every after-school activity and summer job was picked because it would enhance her application. But Ensign Davies had not chosen Starfleet: it had chosen her when her ship had become stranded in the Delta Quadrant and her only options had been to join Voyager’s crew or to start a new life on an unknown planet.

“Computer,” Spencer asked, “what is the estimated time to excavate ninety kilograms of galacite?”

“Define excavation team parameters,” the female voice of the ship’s computer said.

“Two crewmembers, each with a standard-issue rock kit.”

“Estimated time to excavate is 4.6 hours.”

Turning back to the young pilot, Spencer said, “Allowing for locating the source, a couple of breaks and even unforeseen occurrences, I would say 10 hours on-planet will be plenty.”

“Oh, so you accept that there will be unforeseen circumstances, then? What happened to ‘easy away mission that won’t last more than eighteen hours’?”

Spencer could feel her mouth tightening into a thin line as, once again, she felt goaded by the other woman. “I never said that there wouldn’t be any problems at all. I just made sure that I allowed for them in my mission plan.” She sighed. “In my experience, there’s no such thing as an away mission that goes without a single hitch.”

“Had a lot of experience of away missions, have you?”

“No.” She hated having to make the admission. As one of Voyager’s better pilots, Ensign Davies had probably been on at least fifty missions in the Delta Quadrant alone, not to mention her time with the Maquis. The last thing Spencer wanted was for her lack of experience to be discussed openly, when she was already feeling self-conscious about absolutely everything.

“Well, don’t worry, Lieutenant. I’ll get you there and back as safe as houses. You just worry about the science stuff when we get there.”

They lapsed into a silence that Spencer would have been hard-pushed to call companionable. As the minutes passed, it became awkward to the point that they turned away from each other, Ensign Davies finding plenty of interesting things on her console to attend to and Spencer staring out at the stars. Eventually, it became too much for her.

“Well, I think I’ll just, uh…” She motioned towards the back of the small craft as if there might be an obvious task desperately in need of her attention back there.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Spencer climbed out of her seat and made her way to where Golwat and Charlie were discussing some holo-novel that they were both keen to try.

“What’s up, Boss?” Charlie said.

“I’m going to catch up on my reading.” She picked up a PADD and took a seat on the other side of the ship.

Usually, she would have joined her friends. For some reason, though, she felt the need to maintain her distance, to at least give the appearance of being officer material to Ensign Davies. She had no idea why the pilot’s opinion of her was so important, but she knew that she wanted to be well-thought-of by her in a way that went beyond her normal professionalism.

Shaking her head at her own actions, she tapped the screen on the hand-held device and set her mind to the intricacies of Klingon grammar.

*

“Spence,” a faraway voice said, but she ignored it and tried to hold on to the strands of the deep sleep she had been enjoying. “Spence,” it repeated, a little louder.

She was on the verge of falling back to sleep when a different, less familiar voice shouted, “Lieutenant!”

She shot immediately to her feet, the PADD in her lap clattering onto the metal floor. She whipped her head around, still disorientated, to find Golwat standing by her shoulder and Ensign Davies turned in her chair towards her. Spencer was horrified to realise that she had fallen asleep on her first command mission. She had no time to wallow in her shame, however, as she had to grab the nearest bulkhead as the ship lurched to one side. Their pilot swivelled her chair back towards the navigation console and grabbed a lever, easing it forward as her other hand stabbed at some buttons on another screen.

“The ion storm was a lot worse than I expected,” Ensign Davies said over her shoulder. “And it’s no better down here. I’m getting serious magnetic interference, hurricane-force winds and some pretty heavy debris. This is definitely not going to be a pleasure cruise.”

Smoothing her uniform, Spencer briskly walked to the co-pilot’s chair and sat down, immediately all business. “What do you need me to do?”

“Can you plot another course for me? I’m gonna have to fly this baby by hand.”

“Of course.”

She looked at the screen in front of her and made some quick calculations, cross-referencing the atmospheric information on-screen with the co-ordinates of the alternative sites she had already identified before they left Voyager. She might have been literally caught napping, but she could never be accused of being unprepared.

They were not far from the point at which they had intended to enter the planet’s lower atmosphere, but the storm was clearly raging at much lower levels than predicted. Flying under it was not going to be possible. They would have to land at the back-up excavation point, which was a lot closer than her preferred site. It would mean that their ground party would probably have a good hour’s hike when they landed, but it would be better than not landing at all.

She turned to share the information with her pilot but was struck dumb by the exhilaration on Ensign Davies’s face. She had her tongue grasped between her teeth in concentration, which lent her an almost child-like quality, but the epithets that she was muttering were far from juvenile. There were even a few words that Spencer had never heard before, even if their meaning was clear from the context. As the small craft was bucked and buffeted by the external conditions, their pilot was responding with frighteningly quick reflexes, her body mirroring the manoeuvres she was carrying out with an instinctive grace. It was quite a sight to see someone so in tune with their task and so obviously in their element. She could definitely understand why Ashley Davies was considered one of the best pilots on Voyager.

Without taking her eyes off the viewport, the ensign said, “The course?”

“If you head for bearing 375, mark 2, there should be an open plain in about,” she checked her screen again, “230 kilometres.”

“That’s not our original landing site.” The brunette tilted her body hard to the left as she put the craft into a barrel-roll to avoid some kind of meteor or debris.

“It’s one of the back-up locations. It’s a lot closer and there’s an entrance to another suitable cave system nearby that we should get the minerals from. If you can land her, I think it’s our best bet. There’s a ridge around it, so it should shelter us from the worst of this.”

“If I can land it?” Ensign Davies gave an arrogant grin. “I can make a Constitution Class ship do the Cochrane deceleration manoeuvre in under a parsec. I could land this bucket of bolts on an open plain in my sleep.” She pulled hard on the heavy-handled lever in front of her, giving the craft an immediate burst of speed. She patted the console with her other hand. “I didn’t mean it, baby. You’re not a bucket of bolts, are you? You’re a thing of beauty.”

All three crew members watched silently as Ensign Davies threw herself into keeping the small craft on its new course, deftly avoiding all hazards while flying at what was, at times, a dangerously low course.

The ensign looked over her shoulder to Golwat and Charlie, then winked at Spencer. “Everybody hang onto something solid. This is it.”

For a moment, everything seemed to come to a standstill as the craft suddenly stopped its forward movement. Although Spencer knew that it was a physiological illusion, it felt like they were suddenly in reverse, as if stretched on a long, elastic leash which had reached its limit and was being snapped back. All she knew was that her stomach was still hurtling in one direction while the rest of her was heading in another. She clutched the arms of her chair and prayed inwardly that she managed to keep her lunch down. She hardly needed to add vomiting on the controls to her growing list of dubious command decisions.

She needn’t have worried. The Delta Flyer touched down gently as Ashley fist-pumped her triumph.

“Hot damn! I am some kind of demi-god!”

Spencer grinned as she heard Charlie chuckle behind her. Golwat was muttering her thanks to her own deities. The ship was still being rocked by the heavy winds, but the relief among them was palpable. Charlie’s chuckle became infectious and all four started to laugh out loud. Ashley had just lifted her hand to give Charlie a high-five when they felt it: the ship listed a little to the left as the sound of metal scraping against rock silenced them. For a few moments they just waited, but heard nothing other than the wind and the occasional ping and thud of rocks colliding with the hull.

“Must just have been settling,” Golwat said. The others chorused their agreement.

“Right, then.” Charlie pushed off the bulkhead he’d been leaning against. “What’s the new plan, Boss?”

As Spencer opened her mouth to answer, she felt another tremor and turned to look quizzically at their pilot, who merely shrugged in response.

“I think the cave system is about three—”

The scariest noise Spencer had ever heard silenced her completely and her brain didn’t even have time to process what it might have been before the Delta Flyer pitched violently forward, causing everyone to share looks of panic. The craft groaned again as it then lurched backwards, sending Charlie and Golwat sprawling to the floor.

When Spencer felt the rest of her body moving in a different direction from her stomach yet again, she knew exactly what it meant: the ship was in free-fall.

She looked over to see if her friends were all right. Their eyes held fear, but they seemed unharmed. Their position, spread-eagled on the floor, was probably safer than her own in the event of a hard landing, so she threw herself out of her chair. She had no sooner hit the deck when the Flyer hit something pretty hard and she felt herself sliding backwards along the metal floor.

There were two more impacts—one to the rear and one to the side—before they came to a halt with the unmistakable sound of metal crushing underneath them. At first, no-one moved or said anything, their recent experience having taught them not to come to any quick conclusions regarding their safety. They looked at each other and listened for further sounds, but nothing else happened.

Spencer was about to ask if everyone was okay when she heard their pilot groaning. Jumping to her feet without a second thought as to whether further movement in the cabin might affect the stability of the ship, she scrambled over to the pilot’s chair. Ensign Davies was slumped over the controls, copious amounts of blood pouring from an open wound above her eye. Careful not to move the young woman’s head in case of a serious concussion, she smoothed the hair away from her forehead.

“Hey. You okay?”

Ashley’s head snapped up quickly, negating Spencer’s efforts to be gentle. She looked around blearily. “Well, I’m sure as shit glad this is another of those easy away missions we were talking about.”

Spencer was about to reply when the Flyer shifted again and they were all thrown around the cabin as the ship went into its final freefall.

Her last conscious thought was that she wished she had not spent her final few hours alive learning Klingon and napping.

* * * * *

Next up: Part 2 [U]

15 Comments

  1. Posted 19 December 2013 at 8.44pm | Permalink

    So excited!!! ~~~ I have no Star Trek experience, but I am too down!

  2. jsparky04
    Posted 19 December 2013 at 8.47pm | Permalink

    Thank you, Dev, for your awesomeness. Love the story already! (see, that wasn’t so hard)

  3. Je t'aime
    Posted 20 December 2013 at 4.04am | Permalink

    Coinscidence that I just started to re-read Finally On The Ground yesterday, & then to come back to this post today? I THINK NOT! My awesome Spashley fan powers summoned this I swear 😂. So excited to read the rest of this story! Thanks for this!

  4. Duncan
    Posted 20 December 2013 at 10.53am | Permalink

    Yay! I love this. Please put up part 2!

  5. Dovega
    Posted 20 December 2013 at 10.02pm | Permalink

    Spashley in space should be its own genre! This was an awesome start, I’m very excited for what’s to come. Since I know nothing of Star Trek I even went to read what the ranks and colored shirts meant.

  6. Posted 21 December 2013 at 12.53am | Permalink

    I love this so much already.

    I love it! I love it! I love it!

    Did I mention that I love it? And I love your custom header – it’s amazing.

    I guess Ashley shouldn’t have been so confident about her piloting skills, she jinxed things.

    I cannot wait for your next update!

    I LOVE THIS!

  7. Slick
    Posted 21 December 2013 at 8.34pm | Permalink

    This whole setup is pretty damn awesome so far! I’m really loving the whole premise of this and can’t wait for more.

    I’m a fan of Star Trek so I’m pretty excited for this and loved that you set it on Voyager. Now I can hope for cameos by Torres and Seven of Nine! (I could never get on the Janeway/Seven ship even though it was popular)

    Anyway, update soon? Pretty please?

  8. Devje
    Posted 21 December 2013 at 10.45pm | Permalink

    Glad y’all are liking this. It’s really just a short piece of Trek fluff.

    – No Seven or Torres
    – I totes get J/7
    – Chapter 2 on Monday.

  9. cbrammer
    Posted 22 December 2013 at 7.21am | Permalink

    I’m not a huge sci-fi fan, but I did enjoy this. I chalk it up to your fantastic story telling ability. Looking forward to part 2.

  10. Sezje
    Posted 22 December 2013 at 10.48am | Permalink

    I insist you post the next chapter immediately. I INSIST. I’d tell you you’re brilliant but you know it already. I’d tell you it was flawless, but they’re always flawless. I’d tell you I want a novel length version for Christmas, but you’d laugh at me.

    So just… post already?

  11. Bannerman!
    Posted 22 December 2013 at 1.59pm | Permalink

    To quote Macklemore: “This is freaking awesome!”
    Thanks Dev, for continuing to fly the flag – it’s been time since I last checked for fics from you or Clom but it’s ace to see you’re still writing. Your talents are much appreciated – though hell knows when the Monday update will be for me (I’ve moved down under – time difference still perplexes me!) Jx

  12. Devje
    Posted 22 December 2013 at 2.24pm | Permalink

    Joshy! Yay! Monday will be Tuesday morning for you.

  13. cosmic
    Posted 4 January 2014 at 7.10am | Permalink

    yay! ilove voyager and i love South together is awesome.

  14. am
    Posted 18 March 2014 at 6.13pm | Permalink

    Thank you so much for continuing to write spashley. Just wanted you to know that you’re appreciated.

  15. Ash
    Posted 20 March 2014 at 2.55am | Permalink

    Amazing story. Thank you for posting another classic. Please everyone fill out the petition to bring back SON. This show is such an inspiration and deserves a proper ending.

    http://www.thepetitionsite.com/813/127/413/we-want-south-of-nowhere-back-on-tv/

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