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The following story takes place after "Forms of Life"

Star Trek: Maximillian

Needs of the Many

Prologue

As the night shift moved past it's mid-point on the Maximillian, the lights dimmed throughout the ship as part of a new plan Lieutenant Squirrley had been working on in Engineering. The less power going to the lights and non-essential systems, it was theorized, the more power that could be dedicated to the engines, at least in this late hour when less than a third of the standard staff was on duty. So throughout the halls and decks of the Mighty Max the LEDs faded, and there was no one there to see it happen. Waste not, want not, as the saying went.

One place that hadn't dimmed, however, was the quarters of the Maximillian's captain, the Vulcan Kelvok. Even for a Vulcan he slept less than most everyone he knew on the ship, and only the androids on board were unconscious for less time. He considered sleep to be a waste of precious resources, though he knew of its beneficial properties as well. His average was only a scant few hours a day, far less than he knew he should be getting. But he was still able to function at an acceptable level of energy for the majority of the standard day, and throughout many others when a crisis erupted, as was happening all too frequently these days.

Fortunately, in the past couple of weeks, the level of activity had lessened a bit. No invaders or assassins, and no problems with camera crews unintentionally throwing the crew out of sorts. The attentions had returned to something Kelvok did not mind at all, standard exploration and study, the science part of the Federation equation that was too often overshadowed by battles and threats of war. And while his long-hidden Romulan side thirsted for conflict and action, he much preferred this calm, even as he knew that the calm could break into a sudden storm at any time.

Having left his chair hours before, Kelvok had passed the night hours reading a book of ancient lore. Not Vulcan lore, of course, as Kelvok had long since exhausted his interest in the politics and traditions of his people. After so many books and teachings, he felt he knew enough about the Vulcan race to lead a thousand seminars. His interests now turned to the occult, and his current readings were on the legends surrounding vampires, a myth that had somehow survived and thrived in the unknown reaches of space, far beyond its origins on the planet Earth, several centuries before.

After moving through three chapters of the tales, Kelvok had moved on to a treadmill. He had been running in place now for just over half an hour. He recognized he was tiring, and soon would join the many on his ship in slumber, if only for a short while before he returned to his post. But for now, he continued to run, keeping his strength up and his emotions hidden, even from himself, and lost himself in thoughts of the future.

Thoughts moved through his head of the Max's next mission, and even beyond that, to the next shore leave. It had certainly been well earned, since he hadn't had a real leave from the ship since the refit, and even that had only been a few days. Before that, it had been before he had become Captain, just before the incident that had cost the Maximillian several crewmembers, including an Admiral and a Captain. He thought of the endless possibilities. Returning to Vulcan, visiting the worlds of Alpha Centuari, the ideas moved through Kelvok's brain quickly, and he allowed himself to disappear into the stream of consciousness moving through his mind.

As he expected, his blissful interlude, or as close to blissful as a Vulcan could get, was shattered by the insistent tone of the comm system, alerting him out of his thoughts and back into cold reality. As a Starfleet Captain, he was always on call, no matter if he was sitting in the command chair or not. He collected himself, shaking off the last vestiges of the future, and spoke aloud to the room.

"Kelvok here."

It was Nato, the communications officer, who had all but disappeared from the day-to-day operations of the ship, instead choosing to while away the last few days of his service on the late shift as he awaited his transfer home. His dry tones echoed outward. "Sir, we are receiving an automated distress signal...It's the lost pod."

Kelvok breathed a short, almost undetectable sigh of relief. He hated loose ends, and this particular one had been pestering him ever since he had recalled the escape pods that were sent out when it looked as if the Maximillian would be destroyed by a malevolent plant-creature. This was the only pod they had not been able to find. And now, a little over a month later, everything was coming full circle. He began to gather his uniform, and spoke once more to the comm.

"I am on my way."