Polaris - And back again

Boccioni and Culpepper exchanged a nervous glance as they waited for the door to slide open. They were ordered to appear in Starfleet Command and they arrived at haste via air tram. Nobody told them why the haste, only that Starfleet Temporal will de-brief them after their little incident.
- Flyin' here like it's the soddin' end o' the world an' they keep us waitin'… - Culpepper growled.
- And you'd think Starfleet Temporal's keen on timing. – Boccioni managed a small smile – Come on, Spence, no worries. We didn't change the timeline and we saved Earth from being taken over by the Romulans. Maybe they'll give us a medal.
- When was the last time anyone in space service got a medal from the Fleeters, Captain? Nasty buggers, Fleeters…
The door slid open, signalling for Boccioni and Culpepper to enter. Inside, behind a big oaken dest, sat two men, wearing identical black suits with white shirts, black ties and the same style combed-back hair.
- Captain Maria Boccioni. Commander Spencer Culpepper. – one of the men in black nodded in a small act of politeness – Please sit down. I am Mr. Brown and this is Mr. White.
- But of course. – Boccioni, though nervous and feeling small before these two strangers, grinned back.
- So, Captain Boccioni, tell us about your encounter with the renegade Kzin. – Mr. Brown said.
- As I have written in my report, our original mission was to test the systems of my new command. USS Polaris, Pallada class, fresh from the drydock. A general shakedown run, nothing fancy. Near the Kzinti border, we picked up strange signals.
- Temporal signals. – Culpepper interjected – In a state of constant flux.
- And, Commander, did anybody of the crew recognized the wave forms? – Mr. White asked.
- Nay. Funny pattern, queer as a clockwork orange. Our intelligence officer saw nothin' like it before.
- The Kzin had it. – Boccioni continued – Chell. Chell-Scientist, probably, he never earned a full name as far as I know.
- Are you familiar with the Kzin, Captain? – Mr. Brown said.
- I've heard about him. A weapons designer, bit of a free thinker. Rumour has it, he designed the new particle emitters of the last war.
- Nasty boomsticks, those cannons. – Culpepper murmured – They literally flayed our ol' ship, back in '39.
- So, this Chell figure had this little box with him. – Boccioni said – About the size of a shoebox. It contained some time-travelling device. Chell wanted to change the course of history by helping the Romulans back in the Romulan War. We followed him and… and met the original Polaris, back in '57. 2157. We helped Linus Randolph and his crew and the original First Fleet to fend off the Rommie invasion. Don't you worry now, nobody but Randolph saw us and he gave his officer's honor that he'll keep his mouth shut. – she said after she saw Mr. White's face twitch a little.
- And what happened to the box? – Mr. Brown asked.
- Destroyed. – Boccioni shrugged her shoulders – At least I think so. When we scored a critical hit, Chell's ship… I don't know… folded into itself. Probably tried to go to Warp and flee but subspace pressure ripped it apart. So, the Lament Configuration is gone.
- Excuse me? – Mr. White raised an eyebrow.
- That box. It's just a nickname, catchier than time-traveller box. You know what the Lament Configuration is, don't you?
- The box has a name. – Mr. Brown said – It's called a Slaver box.
- Slaver? – Culpepper snorted – Lament Configuration sounds better.
- Are you unfamiliar with the legend of the Slavers? – Mr. White said.
- Oh, that old spacer's legend? – Boccioni said – They're telling it from Deneva to Orion. They say some ancient empire ruled known space eons ago, before they became extinct. But it's just a story, like the name says, a legend.
- Then again, Captain, we all know all legends are based upon, if not more, but a fragment of fact. – Mr. White said.
- So you say that these Slavers built the box?
- The box, and what's inside. – Mr. Brown nodded.
- Then it's a shame we've lost it. – Boccioni sighed – I'm no scientist, but it'd be something to have it, a real Slaver box.
- What if I say we know what happened to the box? Mr. White, show them the image.
Mr. White pulled out a PADD from a drawer. Boccioni and Culpepper both leaned forward to see a black-and-white picture of some men in uniform and helmets running through a field toward a circular craft, half-buried in the soil as it crashed, one engine burning with a pillar of smoke.
- Jerries. – Culpepper hissed.
- What? – Boccioni turned to him.
- German soldiers from World War Two. I recognize their uniform.
- You say… - Boccioni turned back toward the men in black, her face ashened – Chell travelled back to the twentieth century?
- It was probably beyond his control. – Mr. White said – As you see, his craft crash-landed. A report indicates that all passengers have perished.
- Lucky bastards, Jerries. – Culpepper laughed cynically – A shipful o' Kzinti would've decimated half the Reich alone, with their sorry-ass gunpowder weapons.
- Wait a minute. – Boccioni said – So you mean the Nazis got hold of the Lament Configuration… or Slaver box, whatever?
- That seems to be the case. – Mr. Brown nodded.
- Why didn't they use it? With time travel, they could've control the universe!
Mr. Brown's lips curled into a satirical half-smile.
- Captain Boccioni, do you know how many high-ranking Nazis vanished without a trace? Do you know that all investigations led to no results?
- But even if they travelled back in time, they lost the war. – Boccioni said – No matter what they did, Germany lost in… what was it, 1945?
- You need to learn to think beyond Human limits. – Mr. White said.
- Sorry, amico, I'm just your average Human. If I wanted anything else, I'd have chosen Starfleet, not the First Fleet.
- Still, Captain… - Mr. White said with a forced smile – You've learnt how the Nazis built their Reich… their Empire.
- Yes, slave labour and total domination. – Boccioni nodded – Most efficient of all known Human states, but at what cost…
- So, Captain, are you starting to see the pattern now? Slave labour, total domination…
Boccioni's eyes widened and looked from Mr. White to Mr. Brown to Culpepper.
- Slavers… no… it can't be…
- It's just a theory, of course. – Mr. Brown said – You don't have to worry about it.
Boccioni shook her head and looked into the eyes of Mr. Brown.
- You're not from Starfleet Temporal, are you?
- We are from Starfleet Temporal the same way our names are Brown and White. – Mr. Brown said.
- So who are you? Time-travellin' Nazis? – Culpepper said.
- No, that would be too far-fetched even for us. – Mr. White said with a small laugh – We are from an agency commonly known as Section 31.
- I've never heard of such an agency. – Boccioni said.
- And, hopefully, you won't hear from us again, Captain. – Mr. Brown said – I don't think it is necessary to advise you not to spread the word on what was spoken here and now. Some high-ranking officers would be deeply disappointed in hearing that you have installed a fake bulkhead in your quarters to hide a collection of highly illegal material, including Linus Randolph's work On the Fall of the Federation and Its Consequences. Also, Commander Culpepper, I'm sure you'd like nobody to know about your secret weapons upgrades on the Polaris.
The two men in black, Agents of Section 31 stood up from their seats behind the desk, nodding in mock politeness.
- Good day, Captain. Commander.
And they left, leaving the two First Fleet officers looking at eachother in utter bewilderment.