PATTERNS OF INVASION

By: Dan Bivens

Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

"Has extermination procedures been enacted, Colonel Ethok?" asked the man with the wavy, thick hair of basic brown, a well-shaven scowling countenance at once handsome and hate-filled, with the tan uniform shirt a striking duplication of what had been worn by such as he on Old Earth in the 1930s.

The man wearing solid black, from black-billed officer's cap down to tucked-into-black boots uniform trousers, Col. Ethok, stood stiffly before the undisputed leader of these revitalized villains. And after an attempted assassination from the second such as he had shot and killed the cowardly traitor who used to lead them, yet was, as it turned out, a mysterious humanoid alien from a far distant planet…Earth.

"Yes, my Leader," Col. Ethok said with a snap to his military tone, while standing at attention, "according to those sent via our first warp-driven vessels, the entire planet fell far more rapidly than originally planned. Those few tens of thousands not executed have been brought under our utter control."

"Excellent, Colonel," said this assassination-surviving commander-in-chief of what might become the greatest threat ever to foreshadow the Federation. "Prepare our troops for the Ultimate Task…the all-out attack on those who tried to stop our destined rise over a year ago. Not only the United Federation of Planets…but the starship christened: ENTERPRISE!"

"Yes, my Leader!" said the too-eager Ethok in the solid-black uniform even as his right arm shot out at a stiff forty-five degree angle so dangerously reminiscent of an Earth-born beast of destruction that, in Human history, had become synonymous with monstrous evil.

No sooner said than the Colonel in black exited stiff-legged from the office once held by an alien. Unknown to their kind, of course, whom this man now holding the reins of power had shot and killed before being shot himself by an infiltrating member of the self-same planetary race razed by warp-driven vessels. Bristling with new weapons of phased energy as well as holding within their hulls hundreds of newly armed, freshly sadistic soldiers in instantly distinctive helmets of metal dressed, one and all, in gray-green uniforms formerly worn by Humans three centuries earlier.

Then this Leader looked over to the opposite side of his opulent office, within the heart of a big building that was the controlling center of his race's power base, in order to grin greedily at and salute, in the same stiff-armed fashion, the red, white, and black flag followed by purely pedigreed individuals from this singular planet. And which, for officers at least, a small replica of which formed the armband brandished by such sadistically skillful leaders: the slightly tilted swastika in a white circle against the blood-red field surrounding it all.

They were more than merely proud, warlike Ekosians. After the full recovery of a supposedly shot dead Melakon, former Deputy Führer and, now, at long last, Führer, or Leader, of the resurrected army that their former Führer, John Gill, the alien that had so deviously deceived them all…all save for Melakon, naturally, although, in order to regain the control over such sick-minded men and women of power, it was necessary for Melakon to continue the charade regarding the shot-by-him Human attempting to instigate peace instead of what such as Ekos had so longed to obtain: total control!

"To think, we of Ekos owe our great resurrection as a force to be reckoned with to this," said the insanely sick with unreasoning hatred of Zeons, their planetary neighbors within the self-same system of M34, while handling the left-behind hand phaser, so small yet so destructive, that the Gestapo scientists and technicians had, at long last, retro-engineered in order to understand all about its intrinsically futuristic secrets.

"After recovering completely from the attempt on my life by, of all things, a Zeon impersonating an Ekosian SS soldier, it was easy to rally only those former Ekosian Nazi officers in order to resuscitate the true nature of our supreme race and world. Not to mention our manifest destiny of, first, near-total destruction of Zeon, while promptly placing survivors of such a sub-Ekosian species under our dictatorial rule. Slaves to labor arduously in order to rapidly produce even more Ekosian starships! Starships to sweep through the heart of Federation space, destroying any and all of their starships sent against us, before eventually ruling those worlds as well. Not to mention…torturing those of the ENTERPRISE to eventual death. Starting with…Captain James T. Kirk!"

CAPTAIN'S LOG, STARDATE: 2634.1. So far the USS ENTERPRISE has had a monotonously safe set of missions since the incident involving the late John Gill's disastrous introduction of a Nazi-led rule, originally benign before the Deputy Führer Melakon had taken total control, on the planet called Ekos in the M34 star system. Strangely, on the one hand I'm quite happy there have been no unknown, or known, dangers thus far to Starfleet or the Federation. On the other hand…well, let's just say a year of relative listlessness and tedium is more than a man of action, such as myself…or so I've been told repeatedly…can understandably endure. But, who knows? Perhaps the next excitingly deadly situation is just around the proverbial corner.

"Sensor report, Mr. Spock," said Captain James T. Kirk wearily from the becoming-too-comfortable center seat of his too-quiet bridge of restless officers.

Save, of course, for Commander Spock as the Vulcan science officer/first officer, once again, gave the kind of indifferent response while standing in order to stare straight down into the scanner hood's luminously blue display of a string of incessantly too-safe information from their immediate, up to four full light-years, spatial surroundings.

"No disturbances, Captain," said Spock as he straightened into his typically tall, thin Vulcan physicality while half-turning toward the centrally located commanding officer. "And we are on schedule with our next set of planetary tasks in regards to re-supply runs and Federation personnel pickups and…"

"Thank you, Mr. Spock," sighed a tensely seated Kirk even as he realized the irritation regarding the monotone multi-syllabic delivery of routine reports from Spock had, after an uneventful year, started to take their toll on his already eroded fortitude. "Uh, Mr. Sulu?"

Every bit as bored as the still seated Captain, Lt. Hikaru Sulu glanced at his helm's multitude of readouts and said, without swiveling around, "Still traveling at Warp Factor Five, sir. ETA to the 61 Cygni homeworld for the transporting up of their Ambassador Trellius, in order to take her to…"

"Lieutenant," growled a less-than-patient Captain Kirk in order to promptly stop such superfluous reporting, "I am well aware of why we're picking Ambassador Trellius up and where we're taking her. Stick to only the most necessary parts in your responses. Is that clear?"

"Aye, Captain," Sulu said in a strained tone, even as Kirk half-swiveled his center seat in the direction of his beauteous ebony-skinned communications officer, also as unbelievably bored as the rest, again save for Spock.

"Lt. Uhura, send a standard pre-arrival subspace message to the 61 Cygni homeworld of Ch'Lonn Three, please."

Lt. Nyota Uhura, her hands a little less energetically darting across her control board to do what she'd already prepared to do with or without Kirk's command, heaved, "Aye, Captain. Standard pre-arrival message sent. At this distance…"

"Lieutenant, I know how close we are to 61 Cygni and I do not need to know exactly how long, taking mere minutes, it will take for a subspace transmission, both to and from Ch'Lonn Three, to take."

Lt. Uhura secretly toyed with the thought of telling her Captain where to stick…well, let's just say she was entertaining a not-nice notion that could easily end with her being either confined to her cabin or, worse, locked away via force field in one of the starship's claustrophobic brigs for a indeterminate time.

So she did exactly the right thing by simply saying, "Yes, Captain", and leaving it at that.

Suddenly, even as an equally bored-to-tears Dr. Leonard H. McCoy came out of the just-arrived turbolift in order to stand to the left side of Kirk's command chair in the middle of the lower tier of the circular-shaped bridge.

"Bones," tensely said Kirk in a vain attempt at making small talk, "how goes it in sickbay?"

"'How goes it in sickbay'?" the intensely scowling McCoy curtly parroted even as he leaned with one elbow against the center seat's left armrest, causing a less-than-civilized, in these past several weeks especially, Kirk to cut an hard glare in his chief medical officer and friend's direction. "Christine and I haven't so much as treated a cold or removed a hangnail for more months than I care to count. How do you think it's going down on Deck Six? The same as every other damn deck! How's it going on Deck One…Captain?"

Just as it seemed, to Spock and his begrudging understanding of Human behavior in regards to the crew of a Constitution-class starship that had seen an inordinate proportion of extreme excitement, until this most recent passage of a single year, that two of the top executives of the USS ENTERPRISE were uncomfortably close to literally strangling one another in front of the entire bridge crew…

"Captain," Spock said stoically from his swiveled around seat, with a lazy lifting of a single slanted brow, "I believe we are due to hold a meeting between top officers in the main briefing room prior to entering orbit about Ch'Lonn Three."

Even as the half-Vulcan/half-Human science officer/first officer swiftly stood, hands folded neatly behind his board-straight back, regarding Kirk and McCoy in a Vulcan look quite close to an affectation of aloofness, the Captain quickly came to realize his reasoning and nodded, "Uh, yes, Mr. Spock, thank you for reminding me. Dr. McCoy, Mr. Scott…if you please?"

No sooner had the quartet of top officers left the bridge via the just-arrived turbolift's hissing doors…

"I don't know about the rest of you," Uhura said in an uncharacteristically insulting fashion as she glanced about at the others currently on the bridge, from officers such as Lt. Sulu, anxiously sitting at his helm or Ensign Pavel Chekov nervously hovering over his navigations next to Sulu, to lesser-recognizable crewpersons currently carrying out a variety of tasks on the topmost saucer section-located level, "but I'm almost at a point where a mutiny might actually be a good idea."

"All right, Mr. Spock," tensely said Kirk as he swiftly led four of his friends and officers into the briefing room a few decks down, "now that you've prevented a fistfight between myself and Dr. McCoy…"

"Captain," insisted Spock passionlessly, even as he led the other three, one wearing a tunic of gold-green, one bright red, and the last a cool blue like his own, in sitting tensely about the oddly-shaped conference table with its tri-screened display setup in the more-or-less exact smooth-surfaced middle, "I have observed, first-hand, the increasing tension brought about by a year of relative inaction in regards to the numerous anti-climatic missions after…"

"Spock," cut in McCoy as his infamous scowl impossibly deepened, "the last thing we need is for a know-it-all Vulcan to tell us that boredom is about to send most of us mere Humans over the proverbial edge! Don't you think we're intelligent enough to know that already?"

For a split-second, Spock actually considered answering in the negative to the curious question of Humans being "intelligent" at all, then thankfully allowed Vulcan training in regards to repressing such emotions take control and resumed his conversation strictly directed at their mutual commanding officer.

"As I was saying, Captain, having noticed such tension with not only the lesser-ranked crewpersons carrying out mindless duties, but even the highest-ranked as well as those permanently appointed to bridge obligations, I thought it might prove prudent to call this impromptu meeting in order to discuss some logical alternatives to…"

Suddenly, the klaxon shrilly sounded a Red Alert along with red flashing lights above or beside closed doors, which had the curious, to Spock at least, effect of swiftly reinvigorating the Human contingent of the starship…

It had caused Lieutenant-Commander Montgomery Scott to come alive unlike his previously, since the mission to Ekos on Stardate: 2534.0, zombie-like state of consciousness while performing bridge-related chief engineer requirements…

Dr. McCoy's grimace became less a dominating factor, along with a Southern twang to his voice he'd often take on in instances of either extreme relaxation or equally extreme excitement…

While Kirk, himself, became the consummate commander everyone on board the ENTERPRISE, from fresh-faced ensigns to dedicated bridge-duty individuals, had long since expected him to be…

And as for Spock, he simply stayed the always-logical, scientifically curious half-Vulcan/half-Human he always was…

No sooner stepping out onto the bridge, mere moments after leaving the briefing room for the nearest turbolift, Spock strode straight and steady for his science station while Scotty almost ran directly for the bridge-related engineering station, even as Kirk stopped short of the steps leading down into the lower tier with McCoy a couple of paces behind.

"Report!"

By the time a variety of dry data had been tossed about by a rainbow of colored tunics with either existing or not existing sleeve braids, Kirk concentrated on only three: Lt. Sulu, Mr. Chekov, and Lt. Uhura.

"We had just slowed to Warp One as we approached 61 Cygni, Captain," said a suddenly enlivened Sulu half-turning toward Kirk.

"They," chimed in Chekov with his choppy Russian-accented voice that easily attracted too much attention to his relatively inexperienced youth, "came straight at us from the middle of 61 Cygni at Varp One as vell, sir!"

Uhura was next as she swiftly stated, communications earpiece protruding from her left ear, manicured fingers now dancing skillfully across communications controls, "I've tried hailing on all know frequencies, sir…no response!"

"Mr. Scott," said Kirk as he strode toward Spock, currently manipulating the scanner hood's data-variant controls as opalescent blue glimmered across slanted-brow eyes more capable than any of swiftly deciphering the steady stream of information intense scans could relate, "kill the klaxon! I want to be able to hear my officers the first time!"

"Aye, aye, sir," Scotty's almost musical Scottish brogue said with a snap, even as his educated chief engineer's fingers did exactly that one second after said order. Now all that remained in mute testimony to something strange and/or urgent were the flashing red lights, to either side of the turbolift doors on Deck One as well as the box-like light in-between helm and navigations, as well as a single monitor overlooking interconnected consoles with two all-important blinking on-and-off words: Condition: Alert.

"Mr. Spock?" asked Kirk in a tightly controlled tone that was not at all loud, even as a knitted slanted-brow half-Vulcan/half-Human straightened from staring into the scanner hood's data displayed in easy-on-the-eyes blue illumination.

Looking first at his commander and, afterwards, at the viewscreen's display of swiftly closing pseudo-starships, Spock emotionlessly said, "It would appear, Captain, that the vessels on fast attack-vectored advance are of a design based on our own, but from a world we'd deemed to be no longer a viable threat. Either to their twin world system or…"

"Spock, who the hell are they?" anxiously pressed Kirk a little louder than necessary, even as McCoy, still standing at the top of those short steps leading down to the lower tier, reacted at what all bridge personnel suddenly saw via magnified viewscreen, thanks solely to Sulu.

"Ekosians, Captain."

That single two-word statement, along with the lifting, once again, of a single slanted brow, struck hard as, very visible on the viewscreen's magnified, by a factor of two times normal, imagery readily revealed vessels with warp nacelles as well as enormous markings of red, with white circular center proudly displaying a slightly tilted black symbol still recognizable even after three hundred years…

"Nazi starships!"

END OF CHAPTER 1