Happy Temporal Marker Day
Posted on Thu Jan 1st, 2026 @ 11:06am by Commander Donald ‘Don’ Key
590 words; about a 3 minute read
Mission:
A Fondness For
Location: USS Albion
Timeline: Present
:ON:
{USS Albion, Bridge}
SHIP’S COMPUTER: ATTENTION. TEMPORAL MARKER APPROACHING. NEW YEAR’S EVE IN… TEN MINUTES.
DICK: Oh thank God.
DON: Sir?
DICK: If we’re going to die, I’d like it to be in a new calendar year. Symbolic.
DON: The storm planet is still pulling us in!
DICK: Yes, but with optimism, Don. With optimism.
The ship shudders. Somewhere, party streamers deploy from the ceiling and immediately catch fire.
DON: Sir, Festive Mode has escalated to “New Year’s Gala.”
DICK: I knew installing that disco ball was a good idea.
SHIP’S COMPUTER: WARNING. GRAVITATIONAL lol STRESS INCREASING. ALSO, CONFETTI CANNONS ARMED.
DICK: …Why are they armed?
SHIP’S COMPUTER: YOU SET THEM TO “SURPRISE.”
DICK: I like whimsy.
The lights dim. A holographic countdown clock appears mid-bridge, glittering aggressively.
SHIP’S COMPUTER: TEN… NINE…
DON: Sir, do we have a plan?
DICK: Of course we do.
DON: May I hear it?
DICK: Absolutely not.
DON: Standard.
Suddenly, the Borg cube reappears on sensors.
DON: Sir… they’re back.
DICK: Already? It’s not even midnight yet.
BORG (over comms): WE HAVE… ADAPTED.
DICK: To cookies?
BORG: YES.
DICK: …Impressive. Slightly unsettling. Mostly impressive.
The Borg cube opens a channel. The same drone appears—now wearing a tiny party hat.
DON: Sir, is that…?
DICK: Don’t comment on it. They’re sensitive.
BORG: WE HAVE CALCULATED THAT ASSIMILATION IS… POORLY TIMED.
DICK: See? Growth.
BORG: HOWEVER, WE WISH TO PARTICIPATE IN… “THE COUNTDOWN.”
DON: Sir, should we let the Borg celebrate New Year’s?
DICK: Don, it’s been a long year. Let the hive mind have a moment.
SHIP’S COMPUTER: FIVE… FOUR…
The storm planet crackles ominously. The ship groans. The disco ball spins faster, as if panicking.
DON: Sir, gravity’s spiking!
DICK: Hold it together just thirty more seconds!
BORG: THREE…
DON: They’re counting with us!
BORG: TWO…
DICK: I never thought I’d say this, but… teamwork!
SHIP’S COMPUTER: ONE…
EVERYTHING explodes in light. Confetti fires. The ship lurches—then suddenly stabilizes.
DON: Sir… gravitational pull just dropped to zero.
DICK: The planet…?
DON: It’s… resolving its storm system.
SHIP’S COMPUTER: TEMPORAL ROLL-OVER COMPLETE. HAPPY NEW YEAR.
Outside, the storm planet calms, like it just made a New year’s resolution to “be less intense.”
BORG: WE HAVE EXPERIENCED… HOPE.
DICK: Careful. That’s a gateway emotion.
BORG: WE WILL… WORK ON OURSELVES.
DON: Sir, the Borg just made a New Year’s resolution.
DICK: I’m so proud I could cry. Or eject something out an airlock. Hard to tell.
The Borg cube slowly backs away.
BORG: WE WILL RETURN. CALMLY.
DICK: That’s all I ask.
The cube warps away, leaving behind a single floating party popper.
Silence.
DON: Sir?
DICK: Yes, Don?
DON: Did we just save ourselves by celebrating hard enough?
DICK: Don… never underestimate the power of poor planning and a good countdown.
SHIP’S COMPUTER: WOULD YOU LIKE TO SET A RESOLUTION?
DICK: Yes.
SHIP’S COMPUTER: PLEASE STATE IT.
DICK: Fewer Borg. More cookies. More cheeseburgers. And definitely more soda and chips during alpha shift.
SHIP’S COMPUTER: UNREALISTIC BUT ADORABLE. SAVED.
Don exhales, finally relaxing.
DON: Happy New Year, sir.
DICK: Happy New Year, Don.
The Albion drifts peacefully into open space, glittering slightly.
SHIP’S COMPUTER: CONFETTI CLEANUP WILL TAKE APPROXIMATELY… FOREVER.
Dick eases into the command chair and smiles.
DICK: Totally worth it.
:OFF:
Commander Donald ‘Don’ Key
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Albion
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