With Kirk down on the surface, Spock's command should go better this time. But inevitably, when the landing party runs afoul of the natives, the Enterprise gets sucked in as well.
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Chapter 2
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"Commander, it is now an hour past the landing party's scheduled time to report in."
Spock swiveled the captain's chair to face where Pavel A. Chekov sat at the science station. "One hour, two minutes, and four seconds to be precise."
"Surely we must find out what happened to them. They could be lost or hurt or eaten by a Chuchunaa."
Reattaching the panel beneath the communications station, Nyota Uhura sat back on her heels. "Chuchunaa? Sounds Turkic."
"Yes." Chekov's accent thickened slightly as when he discussed anything Russian. "Related to the Yakut word for fugitive."
Although she wasn't wearing her earpiece, Uhura still touched her ear as she thought. "Or outcast. What is it?"
"They are huge ape-men, over two and a half meters high, with hair all over their bodies, large brows, and small brains. They are man-eaters." Chekov offered Uhura a hand, helping her stand.
"Then they are like Yeti or Bigfoot?"
"Worse. They use spears and bows." He moved to her side and slipped an arm around her waist. "But do not worry. You will be safe while I'm around."
From Uhura's widened eyes and the slightly slackened jaw, Spock knew he should intervene and save Chekov.
"Chuchunna were thought to be a relict of Homo sapiens neanderthalensis. They were to have been a hunter-gather civilization at a time when your ancestors were waging bacteriological warfare. The last reported sighting in Siberia was in the 1990s. Had such creatures existed during that time, they would've been hunted to extinction as a consequence of the Eugenic Wars."
Uhura plucked Chekov's hand off her hip. "How awful."
"Indeed. Fear caused humans to eradicate all those they saw as both genetically superior and inferior."
Chekov wisely stepped back towards the science station. "But still, the Captain-"
Switching to a more formal lecture, Spock stepped in front of the young man. "When facing the unknown, it is best to limit your suppositions. Ship-to-surface communications have been unattainable for one hour, twenty minutes and forty-one seconds, this is a fact. Is it more likely they cannot transmit through the storms or that they cannot transmit through the storms and have been attacked by a mythological creature of your history?"
"But, sir-"
"Ensign, as you well know, the ionospheric conditions which prevent communications also scramble transporter signals. If your assertion is true, another shuttle craft - if it were to make it to the crash sight unharmed - would hardly be in time to render assistance."
"Unless-"
Spock put a bit of command in his voice, the tone Chekov was trained to follow. "I have not asked for conjecture. Return to your post."
"Aye, sir."
The bridge was no place for theatrics or insubordination, yet Spock didn't intend to eliminate the crew's sentiment towards their captain. "Mr. Chekov, I'm certain the captain would appreciate your concern." However, the crew needed to learn how to control their sentiments before they interfered with their duties. "Though he may become distressed at your limited estimation of his fighting prowess against a Neanderthal."
With a sigh, Chekov slid back to the science station and began furiously flipping switches and twisting knobs. Spock knew that nine settings would have to be reset before Chekov could actually resume work, but allowed the ensign his minor emotional release. From behind him at the communications station, Spock heard an echo of the sound, though the touch was slower and more delicate. This was something described to him as an attempt to "look busy" and therefore "fly under the radar". He turned to watch Uhura leaning over the panel until she slowed and faced him.
"Lieutenant, while your interest in your shipmates' cultures is commendable, do so without disruptions on the bridge."
"Understood. It won't happen again." She steadily matched his gaze.
"It won't." Satisfied to have given the proper amount of discipline, Spock returned his attention to her duties. "Where you successful at amplifying the signal?"
"Yes, though I won't know if it's enough until I recalibrate."
That would require three settings she just changed to be reset, but he kept silent. "Very well. Proceed."
Spock returned to the captain's chair and examined the mission reports handed to him. The unmanned probes had returned no sign of the Faunus on the nearby planets. He signed the orders to allow the search to continue.
The planetary search of Darrien 224 had to be conducted on foot. Even with all shuttles carrying landing parties, it would've taken 383.74 days to search the entire planet. Kirk had suggested the method with a slight gleam in his eyes which had been absent for some time. First he had confirmed there was no way to project the Faunus's landing pattern from their last transmission or follow their trail to the surface or anything scientific - if she had landed on Darrien 224 at all. Then he had closed his eye, pointed to a spot on the planet, and declared they would start there. The fact that the captain had found signs of the ship on the first day could only be what humans considered lucky. Or unlucky, as Spock suspected Kirk planned to spend as much time away from Earth as possible.
Returning the PADD, Spock examined the bridge. While no one openly doubted his ability to command, the crew often slid their eyes towards him in the captain's chair, more than had Kirk been there or had Spook been at the science station. The unknown status of Captain Kirk unnerved the crew and more outbursts like Chekov's would follow. Unfortunately, there was no task to assign them which would not reinforce nothing could be ascertained until the storm cleared. He should address the crew. A Vulcan crew would not require a speech to keep them motivated and focused; despite his years among humans, Spock was unsure what to say.
Spock found himself staring at Uhura eighteen seconds longer than the other personnel. The only officer who would write him up on such a lapse was himself, but experience had taught him Starfleet would simply be more annoyed with the extra paperwork.
He managed to stare twenty-three seconds longer before she turned back and smiled. It was a human smile, warm and open.
There was a slight pang in his chest, a fitting place for the pain of loss of his human mother. There was much of his parent's relationship he had never understood. The Vulcan way was not easy, but his mother had believed it as the better one. Still, she had never spoken to him of the trails she endured to adapt to a Vulcan husband and child.
As beneficial as knowing such trails would have been, he had not asked the two who might answer. Vulcans could not speak of such things in the same manner their human companions could've.
An intercom whistle with an update from Engineering brought Spock out of his thoughts. Despite his wondering mind, Spock had properly evaluated his command conditions and managed to solve his most recent energy conversion equation. Command left little time for such pursuits, yet paradoxically left him little concrete work to do on the bridge.
Fortunately the rumors suggesting he would be offered his own command had not been true.
As Starfleet procured and produced more starships, more officers were required. This resulted in many officers being pulled out of retirement and many young personnel promoted, though none other as young as Kirk. Some from the Academy thought Spock to be an ideal choice, not only because of his experience, but because what a Vulcan captain could mean for Starfleet. But the bureaucrats decided they needed their savior team together. Spock had paid no attention to the rumors. He never felt the need to command as Kirk obviously did.
"Commander, from these sensor readings, I'd say there is something out there." Chekov's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Something, Ensign?"
"It could just be background radiation, but it could be a shuttle. It couldn't be larger than that."
Spock moved to the science station and examined the readings. Indeed there was a slight fluctuation which could be indicative of a shuttle craft. Most officers would've dismissed the readings. Spock was pleased the earlier outburst had not affected the young man's performance. "On screen." For a moment, the screen showed only space. "Magnification ten."
"That's," Uhura paused, as if searching for the right word, "hideous." The light murmur among the crew indicated they agreed.
The shuttle on the screen looked as if it had been designed from a ship graveyard. Spock recognized various technologies, as if a Federation, Cardassian, and Yridian shuttle were welded together, along with various other components he didn't recognize. The hull was pieced together from various ships, as could be seen by the varying colors and the two partial, yet unrelated, insignias which were visible. The fact it was flying towards them wasn't as striking as the fact it was flying at all.
"Sir, I'm not sure how they're moving. They're not leaving any sort of energy signature." Chekov spoke quicker, a touch of awe in his voice.
"It is simply nothing our sensors are programmed to detect. Any life forms?"
"Five of them: humanoid. Life support systems are functioning; interior atmosphere nitrogen-oxygen.
"Open hailing frequencies."
"Already done, sir." Uhura gave her report while still listening through her earpiece. "They say they are from the Faunus and request docking permission."
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Ship's Log
First Officer Spock recording
Five crew members of the Faunus, including Captain George F. Luder, have boarded from an unmarked shuttle craft. There are no reported injuries. I have asked the captain to report to me on the bridge before sickbay. If he has news of his ship or the conditions on the surface, we might extrapolate the condition of Captain Kirk's landing party.
Lieutenant Commander Scott has been granted access to the unmarked shuttle as time permits. Once Captain Luder has provided an explanation on how he possessed such an eclectic machine, effort should be taken to identify and location the designers.
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"Captain, you intended to tell me you ignored a Code 7-10? The quarantine code which states under no circumstance is a ship to approach the planet." Spock spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child and stared calmly at the man as he leaned back in the command chair, his fingers interlaced in his lap.
Luder stood at six feet with broad chest, hazel eyes, a mole on his square jaw, and brown hair lengthened just within regulation. He must've been unused to people questioning his orders; at Spock's question, he furrowed his brow and held his tightly clenched hands by his thighs. "There shouldn't have been a Code 7-10. There isn't a Federation outpost on the planet. There wasn't supposed to be anything on it."
"So you opted to investigate without informing Starfleet of you intentions?"
"Well, I wasn't about to tell them I was investigating a Code 7-10 planet."
At least the captain was flustered with his own twisted logic. "Continue. What is the status and location of your crew and vessel?"
"The crew of the Lupercus, except for Yeoman Trace - God rest her soul, is in your sickbay. We departed-"
"Sir, I'm picking up something at the edge of our sensors. Larger this time. I think it's the Faunus."
Spock didn't bother checking the Russian's word. "On screen."
The ship on screen was an old style Vulcan research vessel, bought and salvaged by Starfleet. Meaning engineers had attached as many weapons to the haul as there was room and the upgraded engines could support.
"Hailing channels are open. I'm not getting a response."
"Keep attempting, Lieutenant."
Luder grabbed the side of the captain's chair. "Those aren't my men."
"Explain."
The helmsman drew Spock's attention from Luder. "Proximity alarm. They're moving in fast."
"Shields up."
The warnings went off as the ship rocked. Unaware crew were sent sprawling across the bridge. Spock narrowed his eyes at the screen as he was forced to grip the sides of Kirk's chair.
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2009/08/09