STAR TREK:
Mudd the Immortal!
Chapter 1
Permanently orbiting above the San Francisco site for Starfleet Headquarters was Earth's massive mushroom-shaped duranium-sheathed spacedock. For those stationed therein upon its command-and-control Deck One, things were about to turn toward the extreme...and not one they would welcome.
"Short-range sensors are picking up an incoming craft of unknown origin, Commander Brehk," worredly reported a dark-haired Human in his mid-twenties, wearing the traditional tan tunic often affiliated with command-level operations. His sleeve braids that of...
"Clarify, Lt. Asher," said the grandiloquently dual-toned, multi-octave voice of Commander Brehk, a more recent race addition to the Federation and Starfleet. His distinctly snake-like eyes seemingly lost upon an angelically arranged face atop a body both thick and tall. His hair short-yet-serous with a wondrously golden color far more magnificent than the blondest of blond heads within the Human multitudes in service to Starfleet. A gold-green tunic whose sleeve braids were the double-solid expected of such a command-level classification. "How does its structural symmetry compare with the catalog of Federation-approved vessels?"
After allowing his library computers to rapidly ran the numbers of comparably-lined non-Starfleet ships from near and far within the burgeoning borders of the United Federation of Planets, Lt. Asher shook his smooth-faced head. "Computers have nothing like it on file, Commander. It's being auto-classified as 'completely unknown', sir."
Coming from a race of humanoids whom adhered to rules and regulations more than any other, save, possibly, the warlike Andorians...
"Communications, try to make contact," ordered Brehk of a beautiful Vulcan wearing the typical tunic-dress of red. Then, to Lt. Asher, who was still scanning the vessel swooping in at sublight speeds scarily close to that of light, "Give me a full report, please, Mr. Asher."
"Aye, aye, Commander," quickly came the proper reply, followed by a much more detailed description of the strange ship that had basically appeared in said short-rage sensor scans scant minutes earlier. "It has warp engines as well as impulse, which it is now using at a space-normal speed that is nearly 95-percent of light velocity. Computers calculate their earlier probable relativistic velocities to have been on the order of Warp 9.9! Well over a trillion kilometers-per-hour! Far faster than any known Federation craft or Starfleet starship, sir. Meaning, had such a seemingly improbable warp speed been sustained for a significantly long period..."
"This ship could've come from far outside our space," tensely contemplated Commander Brehk before Lt. Asher finished the statement. "Try to track a probable plot on that vessel, Lieutenant. Let's get some sort of idea as to what area of known space it might have more likely traveled from."
"Aye, Commander."
"Sir, I have tried all probable subspace frequency carriers and commonly-acquired channels," staidly said Ensign T'Sora, the lovely Vulcan currently in charge of Communications on the spacedock's Deck One. "No response thus far. Most logically, they simply must be ignoring our transmissions"
"Continue transmission, Ensign," responded a suddenly concerned Commander Brehk as his snake-eyes narrowed while watching the rapidly approaching alien ship via viewscreen. "Increase to Magnification Five."
"Aye, sir," someone said as, seconds later, the cryptic craft in question swiftly filled the large squarish screen. It was clearly quite a bit bigger than the current Constitution-class starships sent forth by Starfleet to explore and protect.
"Are you getting any internal readings, Mr. Asher? Any life-forms?"
No sooner asked by Brehk than Asher finished such via his station's sensors and computerized readouts. He swiftly swiveled his seat toward the centrally-standing representative of Dreadar Prime: an advanced-yet-lush planet orbiting a binary star system some 670 light-years from Earth.
"I'm not picking up life-form readings, Commander, but there is appreciable activity within its huge hull. If such was to be evincive of some sort of actual occupation of this vessel...which has something approaching thirty-two distinctly separate decks!...it would be between two and seven thousand."
"Thousand?" exclaimed Brehk with proper surprise over such an astounding number wherein their best starships maxed out at 430. Then, after returning to his by-the-book brand of command, his dual-toned, multi-octave voice gave an order for a Red Alert status not only on the spacedock, but suggested-via-constant connection with Starfleet HQ over which it orbited so consistently.
At last stepping closer to T'Sora seated so stiffly at her Communications station, Brehk readily ordered of the lovely-but-logical Vulcan, "Ensign T'Sora...send out a request for assistance from any starships nearest to Earth. Then pray to the seven thousand gods of my ancestors that they get here in time!"
As happenstance would have it, that starship turned out to be...
"Yes, Earth Spacedock, this is the U.S.S. ENTERPRISE..."
END OF CHAPTER 1