Many years ago a friend of mine (MySchemingMind for those who frequent here) and I went to school together and used to try our hand at writing Star Trek stories. Once in awhile we work on one together or borrow each other's original characters. This is one that she was kind enough to let me borrow one of her to come up with my own idea of how 'she' came into Captain Kirk's world again. My first time at this so don't expect anything miraculous or even remotely brilliant. It's for fun and nothing more. Takes place around the movies time period. Considering everyone has their own time line, you can pick yourself I suppose. I just hope you like it.
Have never even thought about owning Star Trek or even considered approached Paramount about letting me buy in.
PROLOGUE
Perhaps it was the stench that drew Ensign Nash to the garbage compartment behind the 'Burnout Club' that night, taking him out of his usual patrol. Maybe it was merely the prickling feeling he had creeping along his neck. Whatever the reason that may have aroused his curiosity what he expected and what he found were two different things.
Walking around to the side of the large white and red metal trash container, he froze in front of a hatch used by the garbage collectors on weekends. Streaks of crimson ran down the white sides from the edge of the hatch forming a shallow pool on the concrete ground.
Hesitant, Nash reached for the hatch release wishing there were more light close at hand. Hitting the switch he took a quick step back before the garbage came tumbling out into a heap onto the ground. Piles of refuse accumulated mostly empty bottles, broken glass, as well as other items that would have been picked up for recycling purposes. Then it ceased.
After a brief second or two the cloud of pungent air struck the ensign, enveloping him with its putrid odor causing him to gag visibly. Controlling himself by swallowing the sickened taste in his throat, Nash took a shaken step closer and watched as more blood began to run down the chute in a thick sticky river. With a dull horrid thud, a stomach churning sight came tumbling onto the pile of shattered glass in front of the more than slightly nauseated young man.
Pale as chalk and sweating, Nash grabbed his communicator and struggled to find his voice, unable to take his eyes off the bloody mess at his feet.
"This is Ensign Nash reporting."
"Station 6B here." Came the bored reply at the other end of the communicator. "What is it Nash?"
"We've got another one." Was the hoarse response from Nash. "At the 'Burnout Club'!"
"Another?" The voice came to life with an alarmed note to it. "Did you say you were at the 'Burnout Club', Nash?"
There was no reply.
"Ensign Nash! Are you still there Nash!" Demanded the voice sounding even more shaken.
The voice continued shouting from the inoperative device that lay on the ground in-between the unconscious Nash and the blood-covered body of the young nude woman laying on top of the pile of red stained glass, who would later be remembered as the tenth victim.