Title: Gibbs in Space
Fandom: Crossover: NCIS/Star Trek
Characters: All original…sort of. This one is a gender-bender. The 'original' characters are all here, but this is set about 200 years in the future, and the stage is set with their descendents.
Warnings: Het (vaguely), mild profanity
Rating: Teen
Stardate 241402.11
Prologue…
Sector 7, the Planet N'vYrrd,
It has been twenty years since the forging of the original Federation-Klingon Peace Accord at Camp Kitomer. The United Federation of Planets has been trying to open its colonies for the now 'welcome' Klingon immigrants: families fleeing a dying world.
The colony on the planet N'vYrrd hosts one such mixed population, and it teeters on the brink of civil war. Old hatreds and suspicions die hard, and the 'mixed' populations are divided into two camps: 'original' Federation citizens maintain holdings on prime real estate, while Klingon immigrants are shuffled off to the city slums.
A few well-financed immigrants were granted 'farmland' on the tundra, which the human population considered wasteland. Here the Klingon crops flourish, especially their purple X*hosh bush, from which the Klingons make tea. The plant is toxic to humans, and the bush, which flowers once every decade, is suspected in a sudden plague that has struck the human population…
Fever, delirium, and convulsions wrack women and young girls; doctors are baffled at a disease that affects one woman in a family but leaves two others untouched. Tricorder readings only suggest an allergic reaction, which casts suspicion on the X*hosh flower, but Klingon authorities steadfastly refuse to offer them for testing. The plant is considered holy, and the Klingon elders suspect an excuse to destroy their most valuable crop…
Talks have stalled. The Human Governor of N'vYrrd, Ichabod Shephard, has acquiesced to the demands of his Klingon counterpart, the Honorable Ng*amson ofXil*h, and petitioned the Federation for an investigator and alternate ambassador for the talks. Starfleet is sending its best team: the Major Crisis Response team, led by one Agent L.J. Gibbs, a former Starfleet combat trooper…
Spacedock above Planet Earth…
"GRAB YOUR GEAR!"
Gibbs' command made DiNozzo and David jump. They knew better than to keep their CO waiting, so the pair grabbed their bags and ran for the turbolift.
"Where to, Boss?" DiNozzo asked.
"Little colony out in Sector 7: the planet N'vYrrd. We're being dispatched to prevent a civil war among the colonists," Gibbs explained tersely.
"I have never known a war that was civil," David mused, "no matter how civilized the parties pretend to be."
"This one won't be either," Gibbs explained. "The colonists are divided along racial lines: Humans vs. Klingons. So far they've avoided serious bloodshed, but according to the regional governor the populations are about to explode. Shuttlecraft 9 takes us to the transport ship. We'll be there within the day."
"Is David flying again? I don't know if I packed enough anti-anxietals for a trip like that," DiNozzo groused.
WHACK
"Sorry, Boss."
"You should wish David was driving on this trip, DiNozzo. I'm in a hurry, though, so I'm taking stick!"
"Oy vey, we are all going to die!" David exclaimed.
WHACK
"Sorry, Gibbs. I was just kidding."
"I know, David, I know," Gibbs sighed and hefted the large backpack a little higher. "I just hope the coffee dispenser on this can works."
There was silence for a few minutes in the shuttlecraft, and Gibbs used the time to survey the task force that SCIS was sending out for this mission. Normally they investigated crimes within Starfleet Command ships and spacedocks, not on colonies, and they certainly never engaged in politics, but this time the case was different. Something was fishy at the Governor's level, so Gibbs and Team had been dispatched to both investigate and negotiate.
It has to be my prior record, Gibbs mused silently, the fact that I survived for a week in Klingon territory while cut off from my unit. I earned their respect then, maybe that's why…
"Boss?"
Gibbs sighed. "Yeah, DiNozzo?"
"Do you think we'll find any of them this time?"
The question came as a surprise. Gibbs had not thought about the rest of the original Team's descendants in a long time. It didn't seem to matter how they scattered or where they went; somehow, through the ages, there was always an MCR Team. In eight generations there had always been a Gibbs, a DiNozzo, a McGee, a David, and a Sciuto. The Mallard family had died out long ago, of course, but back at Starbase 12 there was actually a Doctor Palmer. DiNozzo was certain that there was some sort of mojo behind the assembly of their team, and was eager to see it put together again…
But they couldn't find a McGee or a Sciuto. That bothered Gibbs…and DiNozzo…a lot. McGee's were a common clan, but not usually soldiers or cops, and Sciuto's seemed to be extinct. Somehow, they needed to find their missing links…
"I don't know, DiNozzo," Gibbs said thoughtfully, staring out the port at the approaching ship. "But we'll try."
Sector 7, the Planet N'vYrrd,
Governor Shepherd skimmed the information packet in the day's subspace mail. He wanted to know as much about the SCIS upstart who was going to try and replace him…wanted to know if he was a danger…a threat…and if so how to counter-act (or eliminate) said threat…
Gibbs, L. J. Starfleet Senior Special Agent, direct-line descendant of old-Earth NCIS Director Leroy Jethro Gibbs, former Starfleet Marine Gunnery Sergeant, commendations as follows….blah, blah, blah…Height: six feet three inches, Hair: red fading to silver, Eyes: blue…Seriously addicted to coffee; condition thought to be genetic…blah, blah, blah…
Governor Shephard's intercom whistled.
"What is it?" he snapped.
"Governor, the SCIS team landed on Shuttlebay 24 an hour ago. Agent Gibbs is demanding to see you," his secretary informed him. "The Klingon governor is on line three, and the latest update from the science team should be reaching your inbox now."
Governor Shephard scowled. He had wanted more time to think before facing this Gibbs. The man was rumoured a hard-nosed bastard, but a crack problem-solver. If he could only make him see that the best solution to the Klingon Problem was to get rid of the Klingons…
"Tell Gibbs I'm busy, and will be away from the office until tomorrow morning," he snarled into the communicator. "The bastard can make a regular appointment then."
His office door flew open, and a tall muscular woman in Federation uniform stalked into the room. Easily 6'2", with silvering hair and piercing blue eyes, she was flanked by two younger aides: another woman of equal height but fewer years, with green eyes, and a man of even more impressive size, with black eyes and hawkish Israeli features. Governor Shephard scowled.
"Bastard indeed," said the older woman stiffly, "I'll try not to take that personally."
"Now see here!" he blustered, "I don't know who you think you are, but this is my office, and…"
"Gibbs," the older woman growled, "Senior Special Agent Liadan Jiomha Gibbs, Starfleet Criminal Investigative Service, now acting Federation Ambassador pro tem on your behalf. These are my aides du camp, Special Agents Antonia DiNozzo and Zacharias David. You are relieved, sir. Get out of my chair."
Governor Shephard sputtered as the younger woman began casually tossing his collectibles into a plastic box, clearing space for the computer tablets that the young man began setting up.
"Relieved? Chair? What? I don't understand…"
"Obviously," Gibbs said, moving briskly around the desk, "which is why you've been replaced. There is a peace accord at risk and a deadline to meet. Your powers as Governor are temporarily suspended until a workable treaty is in order, pending any criminal investigation into the denial of colonist rights. There have been complaints about your administration, Governor Shephard," she snapped. "Now Leave. My. Chair."
Governor Shephard was a career politician. No way was some washed-up space monkey going to take his job! He opened his mouth for a long-winded rebuttal, inflating like a bullfrog.
"DiNozzo. David." The names snapped like commands.
"You have the right to remain silent," the younger woman said crisply, twisting smoothly around her boss, "I suggest you use it." She pulled him suddenly to his feet as the young man snatched the chair out from under his buttocks. "Thank you, Zack."
"Coffee is ready, Gibbs," the young Israeli giant commented, and then nodded at the flashing communicator button, "and there's somebody on hold, here."
"That's the damned Klingon Governor—N'am Sil'hson," Governor Shephard snapped, "trying to set up the damned conference he weaseled out of the Federation…"
"If you must curse at a Klingon," Gibbs growled, "do it to his face, and say his name right! It is properly Ng*am son of Xil*h, and he is a damned sight more honorable than some Federation officers I know! David!"
"Yes, Gibbs," replied the tall Israeli.
"Have security escort the Governor to his quarters. He can have some liberty, but is forbidden to leave the city until further notice. DiNozzo!"
"Yeah, boss?"
"This coffee is terrible. Find me some single-malt whisky and call the kitchen; we are expecting guests within the hour, aren't we, Governor?"
Nobody had noticed Gibbs activating the video communicator until the holographic Klingon appeared in the center of the room. The scarlet-clad giant's only motion of surprise was a widening of his eyes.
"Liadan, Scion of Gibbs," boomed the gruff voice, "I thought you were dead."
The ice-eyed woman smiled grimly. "You should be so lucky, Ng*am son of Xil*h; I'm now Acting Governor of N'vYrrd and Federation Ambassador. How the hell are you?"
Ex-governor Shephard sputtered helplessly as Agent David propelled him out the door.
Nv'Yrrdian Science Department…where human scientist Taegan McGee has been working with her Klingon counterpart, B*gal son of Sc*to…
"Dammit!" The young scientist slammed the desk in frustration. "There has to be an answer! We've tested every sample from every patient on the planet, and we've got nothing!" Auburn ponytails bounced as she shook her head, and she buried her face in her hands.
"Relax, mach 'ej 'IH, you won't find anything breaking your hands," the large Klingon rumbled from the other desk. "This hormone in these blood samples," he offered, "I think you call it 'his-to-meen'? Is that common in your species?"
"Yes, B*gal," she sighed. "It's produced by the immune system. It triggers a hostile physiological response to a perceived invader. Symptoms usually include swollen nasal passages, increased mucus production, sneezing, hives…"
"But not fever, convulsions, and delirium," he mused, "and only among your unmated females, not your males nor your mated pairs and not among your children."
"No." She sighed again. "We're missing something. Histamine levels like this should trigger allergic reactions, but instead patients display DT behavior…"
"Dee-Tee? What is that?" The young black giant gave her a puzzled look.
"Delirium Tremors: it's a reaction seen in someone going through withdrawal from a drug, such as alcohol or cocaine or…" Taegan stopped her explanation when B*gal launched into a rare string of Klingon profanity. "What is it?"
"KHEST'N KHESTEREX THATH! We have been looking at the wrong patients! We should have been testing women who displayed no symptoms as a control!" B*gal turned suddenly and put a large fist through the lab drywall. "KHEST'N!"
"B*gal," Taegan said, her soft eyes widening, "you're scaring me! What's wrong?"
The huge Klingon calmed himself, and placed a giant hand gently on her face. His black eyes bored into hers. "There's a reason you aren't sick, mach 'ej 'IH," he rumbled softly, "or didn't that occur to you?"
The Governor's office…one hour later…
"It's good to see you, Ng*am," Gibbs said smoothly. "You've put on a little weight, I see," she said, nodding at his midriff.
"My housekeeper thinks I don't eat enough," he harrumphed, and cast an appraising eye over Gibb's figure. "You still have a magnificent ass, though."
"Pity my ex-husband couldn't see that," Gibbs said dourly. "The bastard left me for another."
"Honor-bereft moron," Ng*am spat. The pair glanced across the room, where Antonia and Zacharias stood chatting with Ng*am's young aides. Zacharias, fluent in Klingon, made the group laugh, while Antonia flirted shamelessly with the male Klingon aide. "Pity the population here can't get along as well as our staff does."
"Pity has nothing to do with it," Gibbs insisted. "David is a brilliant special ops agent with experience in cross-cultural communication. DiNozzo is a top-notch investigator that excels at lowering people's guard, especially during interrogations. On top of that…"
"She's as horny as a T*gllnian yak," Ng*am said dryly. He cocked an eye at Gibbs. "Reminds me of a young Starfleet officer I knew once."
"That cave was cold," Gibbs said defensively, but with a wry grin. She sipped her bourbon and sighed. "Pleasantries aside, we need to get down to business. I'm launching a full investigation into Governor Shephard's handling of immigrant affairs. From what I've read, he's been deliberately shifting Federation credits meant for immigrant benefits to ghost companies…"
"You have entire companies that deal with the dead? Humans are weird," Ng*am shook his head, exasperated. "We bury our dead, mourn them, and move on."
"As do we, your Honor," Zacharias David said, bowing and placing his right hand on his chest as he approached. "My superior refers to companies that only exist in documents, and not in real space and time. The money meant for your people's settlement was siphoned off to Governor Shephard's personal account. It is why we are able to enjoy this," he raised his glass of 200 yr. old brandy, "instead of swilling what the locals consider beer."
"Tyrellian piss-water, you mean," Ng*am growled. "The prosecution of this fraud will go a long way in healing racial tensions, but my people will call for his blood for some time. It is our way," he explained tersely, "and unlikely to change anytime soon. Many of my people's women and children have suffered from poverty and disease because of this man."
"It will be dealt with, Ng*am. You have my word on that," Gibbs said sternly. "Now, speaking of disease, is there any way I can get a sample of the X*hosh flower for testing? I know you want to preserve your culture, and I respect that," sweat began to bead on her forehead, "but our scientists need to develop some sort of anti-toxin, if this is indeed some sort of reaction to your Holy Tea."
"There is no proof that X*hosh is the cause of this ailment!" The young Klingon male at the Governor's elbow finally exploded. "This is nothing more than an excuse to level our most holy crop! Only the priest can touch it!"
"Peace, Mog," rumbled the Governor. "You see our problem, Gibbs. I feel for your female's sufferings, but to give or to take the X*hosh flower is not in my power. There are times and rituals that must be observed."
"When?" Antionia finally spoke, perspiration making her face glow. "What rituals?"
"Toni, are you alright?" Zach murmured in her ear.
"I'm fine, it's just hot in here," she murmured back.
Mog started to growl, but the young woman at Ng*am's elbow suddenly spoke.
"The X*hosh flower can only be culled by the priest on a holy day, and then only to be given as a gift of affection. They are often preserved in a sugared form for such occasions, but are best boiled fresh for the…desired effect," she explained.
"And that is?" Gibbs pressed.
The conference doors flew open, admitting a rumpled set of scientists: a Klingon male carrying a huge package, and a human female.
"We did it! We did it! We figured it out!" the young woman explained breathlessly. She looked around the room in confusion. "Where is Governor Shephard? He should hear this!"
Gibbs nodded at the pair. "Someone you know, Ng*am?" Sweat started to trickle down her back, and she twitched.
The old Klingon nodded. "The male is my chief science officer: B*gal son of Sc*to. The female is from your science team…I don't know her name."
"McGee, Taegan McGee," she announced breathlessly. "We isolated both the cause of the plague and the cure!" She paused and looked closely at Gibbs. "Who are you?"
"Liadan Jiomha Gibbs, Starfleet Special Agent and Acting Ambassador in charge of N'vYrrdian affairs and treaties. You said you found cause and cure?" Gibbs' patience was wearing thin, and damn, it was getting hot!
"The X*hosh flowers…they're an aphrodisiac! The pollen is airborne, and it triggers an initial euphoria reaction when inhaled by any estrogen-carrying life-form…" she began.
"Like eating chocolate," suggested Antonia, shaking out her tunic.
"Chocolate on steroids," she explained rapidly. "But that's only the initial response. Once inhaled, the pollen triggers other neuro-chemical responses, which require an injection of a steroid hormone to neutralize the pollen's continued stimulant effect on the body's pituitary gland…"
"Cut to the chase, please," said Gibbs, rubbing her head in a pained fashion.
"You call it 'tes-tos-ter-one'," B*gal explained, opening the package and exposing a large bunch of X*hosh flowers. "There are chemicals in the petals that make reception of the hormone more…palatable…to the female. After ingesting, a small dose of the steroid will cancel out the deleterious effects of the X*hosh pollen."
The Klingon governor and his aides roared in outrage. "You have stolen the holiest of holies, B*gal! The punishment is death!" Mog exclaimed.
"The flowers were culled by the priest at my request," B*gal insisted. "This is a holy day in the human's calendar," he explained, pulling off a few petals and shoving them at Gibbs. "Steep these for two minutes and then drink. There is a medical team on the way up."
On the edge of her peripheral vision, Gibbs saw Antonia collapse, twitching. She could feel her own legs start to weaken, but willed herself to stand. She glared at the two young scientists…
"Testosterone injection…my ass…how long have you two been sleeping together?" she snapped, brushing off B*gal's hand at her elbow. "And what holiday are you talking about?"
"Four months and six days, Agent Gibbs," Taegan replied, "and it's the Feast of St. Valentine," she added softly.
"Of course," Liadan Gibbs murmured, "the perfect day to give flowers to a girl."
Ng*am's hand on her arm was like a manacle, and a steaming cup was forced to her lips.
"Dammit, woman, drink," the huge Klingon growled. The boiling liquid tasted like fire, and she knew no more…
Six hours later…
Supervisory Special Agent and Acting Ambassador Liadan Jiomha Gibbs stood at the Governor's office balcony, surveying the city below. She was supposed to be in bed but had refused the order, choosing to direct the medical operation from the governor's chair with B*gal sitting beside her. At his word, teams of Klingon priests had descended on the city hospitals with gallons of fresh X*hoshian petal tea. A few sips and a slathering of testosterone-laden salve soon had the most afflicted patients resting comfortably.
Ng*am walked up quietly behind her, his face impassive. "A good ending to an ugly business," he rumbled.
"Yes," Gibbs admitted.
"I wanted to ask you," the older alien finally admitted, holding out a single X*hosh flower, "if you had plans for tonight, Liadan."
Liadan Gibbs turned to the old warrior in surprise. "Ng*am…your consort…"
"Has been dead for a year," he admitted, "and she left me with three young warriors to rear. I can think of fewer strong enough for the job than you," he said, brushing the flower across her nose and lips.
She inhaled the potent X*hosh scent…it was enough to make her head spin, even though she was already inoculated…
"Make love, and not war? Ng*am, you're a romantic," she added with surprise.
"And you aren't?" the Klingon pulled her close. "Antonia has already joined with Mog," he murmured, "all I want you to do is think about it."
Gibbs pulled his face to hers. "Oh, hell. Why not?"
Ng*am closed the curtains…and they were alone.
The End.