So... another plot bunny thing running around in my head. Don't worry about Second Chance. I have that follow up chapter almost done and ready to type up, and expect it soon. But for now.. the beginning of something new. This will be a long one as I am taking on the basics of the whole first Star Trek Movie.

Had no time to proofread this, so please excuse any glaring mistakes, of which I am sure there are many.

Thank you for starting out on a new journey with me. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I will.

Kisses,

MD

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any part of the franchise. I gain nothing from writing this other than creative satisfaction.

Captain Robau prided himself on leading a rather quiet and honorable service during his time in Starfleet. That wasn't synonymous with boring, it just meant nothing much by the way of eventful happened to him in outer space. He liked it that way. Nor surprises, no hiccups, no unfortunate events that explain to the higher ups, and nothing threatening the lives of his crew. At most the U.S.S. Kelvin had suffered a misaligned warp core, setting back their current excursion by another day. Once they'd been in the air, however, it was different. Well… until today.

Robau walked briskly down the hall with one of his communications supper officer named Pitts. The man's bright red shirt contrasted to Robau's sharp yellow. Their boots clicked professionally on the waxed floor, belying their sense of urgency.

"Our sensors haven't made sense of the anomaly?" Robau's commanding voice stayed in control, calm, even as the concern was plain on his striking Indian features.

"No, sir," Pitts answered. "It looked like a lightning storm in the middle of space." Robau considered this information for a moment.

"How far are we from the Klingon Neutral Zone?" Pitts bit his lip as they rounded a corner, the door to the bridge at the end of the hall.

"150,000 kilometers, but the vessel is not Klingon, sir. Its registry doesn't match any recorded profile" The door to the bridge opened with a gentle swish, the chaos it had been containing erupting in a swell of noise and a flurry of activity. Robau stepped inside, striding over to the Captain's chair, and Pitts returned to his console by the Captain's feet. Robau examined the picture of the anomaly on the viewscreen. Green clouds crackled with lightning, orbiting a hole darker than everything around it. Impressive considering they were in outer space. According to Pitts, the ship now also looming ominously had appeared from within the storm.

The sheer size of it was mind boggling, easily six times the size of the Kelvin. It had spires and edges that reminded the Captain of a snarling animal backed into a corner, dangerous, and willing to try anything. It glistened in the light of a nearby star, shimmering with different colors, like oil on water, but for all that it shone, it looked like someone had carved the whole thing from one giant piece of rock. So much excitement for Robau was… disconcerting.

"Report." Robau turned his chair to his First Officer, George Kirk, a man in a blue shirt signifying his place as a man of science. Kirk was young and promising in his command, with a warm face that was easy to smile, and unnaturally blue eyes that saw everything. Robau liked him. He'd earned the respect of the whole crew easily, carrying out the Captain's orders with honesty and determination. He had a tendency to act before thinking, though, and was maybe the most stubborn out of Robau's whole crew.

"Sir, new contact bearing zero-three-four." Robau frowned.

"Are they transmitting on any frequency?" Kirk shook his head, glancing out the window before giving his attention back to the Captain.

"Negative, Captain. All communications appear to be shut down." Robau swiveled his chair back out towards open space and the possible threat on his ship and crew.

"Hail the ship. What's the closest match on registry?" Kirk hesitated.

"Nothing even close, sir."

Robau turned to his right, facing officer Pitts once more. He did not like how this was playing out. There was a voice in his head screaming at him to run, that they were in danger. Something about this just wasn't right.

"Any response?" Pitts shook his head, desperately flipping switches and pressing buttons.

"No, sir," he sounded nervous. "Hails met with silence."

"Maybe they're incapable…" Robau hedged. Her needed to consider all possibilities, friendly, and otherwise, though he hoped the latter would just be proven to be paranoia. "Any identifiable damage?"

"Negative, sir, but our readings seem confused." Robau quirked an eyebrow.

"Confused?" Pitts bit his lip, looking over his screen and flicking his eyes to both the Captain and First Officer and the imposing ship on screen.

"Not only is the ship unregistered, but even its construction materials seem… unrecognizable." A hush fell over the bridge as they all took in this new information. Numerous faces turned to Robau with fear, looking for answers. Looking for leadership. It was enough to drive anyone insane, and was exactly the reason he'd wanted nothing more than a quiet, uneventful service.

'Oh my God…' he thought, 'A lightning storm… and then this…' he shook the thoughts forcibly from his mind, leveling his face. No one had the strength for this, so as the Captain, he had to be the strength for all of them. He cleared his throat before his voice rang out strong and true over the desk. Only Kirk's sad eyes glowed with the knowledge that their Captain was just as afraid as they were.

"Signal all departments: first contact protocols. Looks like we have someone new on the block. All stop!" Like a flipped switch, the bridge was once again a buzz of activity, though the tension wasn't as high. Crew members became glues to their consoles, muttering softly to department chiefs throughout the ship and setting up the protocols for first contact. Kirk stood up from his post, and walked over to stand by Robau's left elbow.

"Sir, should we initiate an invasive scan?" before Robau could answer, Pitts pipe up urgently.

"Sir, I have a reading! They've locked weapons on to us!" Robau's eyes widened.

"Red alert! Arm weapons! Shields!" Kirk dashed back over to his console, his hands flying across the colorful buttons. The lights on the bridge flashed red as a warning siren blared angrily over the speakers. Robau watched in horror as the gigantic claw of a ship fired a torpedo that broke into smaller, more mobile torpedoes right before contact with the Kelvin. The crew thrashed around the rooms and the ship shook ominously. Robau leapt forward to help a navigational support man back to his seat, frowning at the small trickle of blood running down his face from where it had slammed against his station.

"Damage report!" he barked through his communicator. It took a moment before the Chief Engineer answered. He sounded terrified.

"Our shields did nothing, sir! Never seen anything like it! Weapons off-line! Main power 38 percent!" Robau swore internally in several languages. No way they lived through another assault like that.

Kirk drug himself off the floor, mashing the button for an inter-ship call, the first real look of fear on his face. Robau remembered with a measure of compassionate sadness that his First Officer's pregnant wife was on board the Kelvin. The captain had more to worry about at the moment, though, and he turned away from the fervent, hushed conversation between Kirk and his wife, Winona. His eyes roamed over the groaning, but alive, members of his bridge, and he let loose a sigh of relief. No one was dead.

"They're firing another, Captain!" Somewhere behind him, Robau heard a woman scream. He whirled around and his face dropped in dismay. Without a second thought, he jumped up, shouted order for evasive maneuvers and took off running towards the woman. Kirk saw what he was doing, having ended his call, and a great yell of the Captain's name ripped from his chest right as a metal beam fell from the ceiling and pierced Robau right as he shielded the junior science officer from sudden death. George looked on in shock as the Captain gave a great cough of blood all over the still-screaming woman, then unceremoniously died.

"Life support failing on decks seven through thirteen! We have confirmed casualties, sir!"

"This is the U.S.S. Kelvin, attempting to reach Starfleet command on subspace! Report – U.S.S. Kelvin is under attack by unknown aggressor!

"Shield at eight percent and dropping!"

"Were our shields even up?! That was unlike anything I've ever seen!" Kirk gulped, tearing his eyes away from their fallen captain. With shaking hands, he stepped up to the Captain's chair and fell back in to the soft leather, white noise pouring through his head. Winona and the baby had been alive. That was what he had to hold on to.

"All remaining power to forward shields," he commanded awkwardly. His hands were shaking. "Prepare the shuttles for –"

Kirk stopped as a face, heavy with tattoos and an expression of gut-wrenching pain blipped on to their viewscreen. This man's eyes smoldered with hatred and anguish, and what looked to be tear tracks shone on his face. His cheeks were flushed a green color in his anger, as well as the tips of his pointed ears. George narrowed his eyes. Romulans. When the hell did Romulans get this kind of fire power?

"I would speak to the Captain of this ship," he growled. His voice sounded like he was talking around a cotton ball, chewing on every letter before spitting in George's face. Kirk's eyes involuntarily looked over to Robau's body (the science officer had fainted) before glaring up at the humanoid.

"I am George Joseph kirk, Captain of the U.S. . By what right do you have to attack a Federation ship?" An image of a strange white ship, only big enough for one, curved, elegant, and alien flashed in the bottom right corner.

"Are you familiar with this craft?" Kirk's face hardened at being ignored. He clenched his fists, internally schooling himself to not be brash, lest it cost him more lives of their already dwindling crew.

"I asked you what right do you have to attack a ship from the Federation Starfleet?" The Romulan's face darkened dangerously, and his voice dipped low, and menacing.

"That was hardly an attack. My commander will easily destroy your ship if you do not respond to the question."

"Where is your commander, then? Let him speak for himself, and answer for the lives he's taken!" Kirk challenged, trying to stall for time enough to formulate an escape plan. Warp was out of the question. They couldn't do a frontal attack. Unless…

"Answer. The. Question." Snarled the Romulan. Kirk tensed and considered the strange ship seriously. His heart broke when he heard the sniffled of his coworkers giving up all pretenses of bravery, and at how powerless he felt to save them.

Winona…

"I've never seen it. Or any ship like it." The Romulan's wild eyes tightened.

"Are you familiar with – or better – know the location of Ambassador Spock?" The spaceship in the corner was replaced by a very obviously Vulcan face. The skin was wrinkled and sagged with age, and the classic Vulcan bowl cut was gray and thinned out, but the deep brown eyes sparkled with inhuman intelligence. He was, regretfully for Kirk, unfamiliar.

"No. I am not familiar with Ambassador Spock, nor do I know his whereabouts." With a pang of dread, Kirk hope he hadn't doomed them all to death. An annoying voice in the back of his mind whispered that it didn't matter what his answers were, they were going to die anyway. It looked like General Order 13 was soon becoming the only choice they had for retaliation.

"A final question. What is the current stardate?" Kirk blinked over at Pitts, who seemed just as confused as George felt. Who the hell wouldn't know the stardate?

"Uh… it's 2233.04…" With a grunt, the Romulan disappeared, but before Kirk could even begin contemplating that strange encounter, the chaos quickly resumed.

"Captain!" Pitts shrieked. "They're firing again!" Kirk clenched his muscles in panic. If they sustained another wave, Winona would die. Their baby. Their unborn baby. God, why did she have to go in to labor, now? Why did she have to be on the ship? Kirk wiped his sweaty palms on his blue shirt.

"Evasive! Evasive! Delta-Five maneuver! Fire full spread!" George watched in trepidation as their dying ship banked, avoiding most of the blast. A support beam crashed to the floor behind Kirk on his right. Green coolant spewed up between the gratings below his feet. With solemn resolution, Kirk gave up the fight as a lost cause.

"I'm initiating general Order 13. Set for maximum matter-antimatter yield. Two minute countdown!" Pitts' fingers flew like wind over his console, inputting the order to the ship's computer.

"Yessir!"

"I want autopilot targeted for their fuel cells!"

"Sir, unable to locate the ship's power source!" Kirk could just scream.

"Then just target the damn thing dead center!" Helmsman Permian turned around, his right hand bleeding, and his voice filled with foreboding.

"We've got bigger problems: the first his destroyed the autopilot." A silence pregnant with sorrow encase George, giving him a sense of calm the strength to do what was needed. He was the Captain now. It was his responsibility to see to the safety of his crew, and to neutralize the threat. That left only one option left. He only regretted that he wouldn't get to meet his second child.

"Then I'll do it myself. Everybody evacuate to the shuttles." Nobody moved, gaping at him in wonderment and regret. "That's an order, now move!"

The crew jumped at the bark in his voice before snapping to and running out the door. Officer Pitts stopped in front of Kirk, openly sobbing and choking on the words in this throat before shaking his head and leaving with the rest of the bridge. Kirk sighed and looked over at Robau's corpse. Someone had had the sense to grab the junior officer on the way out, at least.

"Just you and me, old friend…" he whispered. Heaving a quiet groan, he leapt to his feet and danced around all the consoles, piloting the Kelvin while firing at the Romulan ship and stray torpedoes aimed for the escape pods. His child could be in any one of those, and he couldn't afford to let a single one of them perish.

"Computer," he shouted, "hail medical shuttle 37… I need to speak to my wife."

Welp. There we have it. Such was the end of George Kirk, Sr., and the beginning of our very dear Adelaide Kirk.

Thoughts? Lemme know with a wonderful review.

Peace!