Chapter Two: Raiders
Disclaimer: Playing with other people's toys here. Just for fun.
Spoiler alert! This story is set during the Nibiruan mission which occurs in the first nine minutes of "Star Trek into Darkness," scheduled for release in May 2013. Read no further if ignorance is bliss to you. Otherwise, jump right in and enjoy!
Of all the qualities Jim Kirk prides himself on, his ability to react quickly is the one he's found most useful through the years. His stepfather Frank's hand raised in anger sent young Jim skittering out of his reach. A police officer ordering him to pull over in Frank's stolen Corvette sent him driving over a quarry edge and leaping to safety—barely.
Or later at the Academy, leading his parrises squares team to victory two years in a row, his unorthodox maneuvers garnering both praise and scorn depending on who was asked.
In his social life, learning to parry both physically and mentally, juggling several relationships at the same time. Once—memorably—taking two different women to the same Academy dance on the same night—which in retrospect turned out to be more than even he could chew.
So which skill fails him now—as the Nibiruan hog monster barrels down on him?
Kirk has time to register its size—at least eight feet long—and the overwhelming smell—putrid and smoky—but little else before he feels it push him over into the sand. With a loud oomph he rolls to the right, mentally checking himself for tears or bites. Other than having the wind knocked out of him, he's okay—and he turns his attention to McCoy who is further down the beach.
He's prepared to see something dire—teeth and limbs and blood and a trampled friend—but what he sees is something so astonishing that for a moment Kirk is stunned into silence.
The hog monster is completely cowed. There's no other word for it—the way it crouches in the sand, its muzzle raised submissively as McCoy tentatively strokes its head.
"Bones?"
"Don't move, Jim."
"Don't worry."
"Here, Bessie," McCoy says, his voice sliding effortlessly into what Jim calls his molasses drawl. "Good girl. Stay. You don't want to hurt Papa."
Papa? If the situation weren't so serious, Kirk would have laughed.
"Uh, Jim," McCoy says, breaking eye contact with the hog monster long enough to motion to him, "are you okay?"
"Yeah," he says, "just bruised."
"Come over here, slowly," McCoy says, and Kirk takes a step forward. Immediately the hog monster lets out a snort and turns its head toward him. Kirk pauses and raises his hands like someone in surrender. "Easy, easy," McCoy says, though Kirk isn't sure if he's talking to the hog monster or to him.
"Captain?"
Uhura's voice in his ear. Carefully sliding his hand into the pocket of his gray robe, he pulls out his communicator and flips it open. From the corner of his eye he watches as McCoy renews his efforts at calming the hog monster by brushing his fingers over its snout.
"We're okay," Kirk says, "though we are having an unexpected encounter with the local wildlife."
"Sir?"
"A big…thing. A Nibiruan cow, or something. It's not real crazy about me, but it seems to like the doctor just fine."
The speaker buzzes and Spock's voice breaks in.
"During our reconnaissance flyovers we observed large domesticated animals being used by the indigenous population for transportation. They seem quite docile, Captain."
"Uh huh," Kirk says, eyeing the hog monster warily. "You might not think so if you were looking down the business end of one of these domesticated animals."
"Captain," Spock continues, apparently ignoring—or not recognizing—Kirk's sarcasm, "the seismic disturbance is increasing. I suggest you and the doctor proceed at once to the kill zone."
"We're trying, Mr. Spock!"
He swivels around to the dense red forest that starts at the headlands of the beach and stretches all the way to the base of the distant volcano—their destination, two kilometers away. The ground gives a sudden rumble and Kirk throws out his arms to steady his balance.
"Hurry up, Jim!"
This from McCoy. Kirk turns around and for the second time that morning, his mouth drops open.
There's the doctor, perched on the back of the hog monster like a cowboy. With one hand McCoy grips the bristles that run down the dorsal area of the hog monster. Extending his other hand, he says, "Here. Hop on up."
Taking a tentative step closer, Kirk grabs McCoy's hand and levers himself up behind him, throwing one leg over the hog monster. It shifts and snorts and Kirk almost slides back off.
"Whoa, Bessie," McCoy says in the same soothing drawl. "It's jus' the captain."
This time Kirk's reaction time serves him well. He reaches out and grips a tuft of hairy hog monster fur as McCoy gives it a nudge with his heel and they take off on a bumpy jog to the trees.
The ride is quick but unpleasant—leaves slapping Kirk in the face, his butt rocketing up and down as the hog monster settles into a loping stride. McCoy's voice is alternately cajoling and commanding, and the hog monster swerves and changes course to the slap of McCoy's hand on its haunch.
Kirk is both impressed and jealous.
"We can see the temple now," Kirk says into his communicator as the hog monster halts. McCoy slips down first and Kirk follows. Without looking back, the hog monster shuffles slowly into the underbrush, presumably rooting for something to eat. "Don't see anyone outside, though."
"Sensors show 36 individuals inside the structure," Sulu says through the comm link in Kirk's ear. "Although that number may not be accurate. The ash in the atmosphere is definitely making it harder to read the surface."
Holding his hand over his eyes like a visor, Kirk scans the sky over the volcano. It is black and thick and roiling, enough to keep the shuttle safely hidden in daylight.
Still, even an experienced pilot like Sulu would find flying under such adverse conditions a challenge. That idea makes Kirk pick up his pace toward their target.
When he was twelve years old, Kirk and his mother and brother took a trip to see the pyramids of central Mexico. Terraced and steep, they were an exhilarating climb—at least for him and George. His mother had stayed below loudly wringing her hands until they clambered back down.
The Nibiruan structure someone—Sulu perhaps—has dubbed the temple looks like a smaller version of one of those terraced pyramids. A dark aperture on one wall appears to be an opening to the inside.
Darting from one stand of trees to another, Kirk and McCoy make their way closer. Twice they have to stop as the ground shudders, the volcano belching out more smoke while ash and embers rain down around them.
No wonder everyone is inside, Kirk thinks, brushing a few glowing bits of ash from the sleeve of his long gray robe.
Patting his side, he feels the heft of his phaser hidden under his cloak.
"Ready?" he says, and McCoy answers with a grunt.
They hurry across a stone walkway to the dark opening in the temple. In the distance Kirk hears an unusual hum, like a swarm of bees. The sound is too irregular to be mechanical. Organic, then. The inhabitants, most likely, making some sort of vocalizations. Uhura might be able to parse enough of the language to make sense of what they are saying. Flipping open his communicator, he whispers, "Uhura?"
But the hiss of static greets him. Either the magnetic distortion from the volcano or something about this structure itself is blocking the comm signal. With a repressed huff, Kirk snaps the communicator shut and slips it back into his pocket. Waving his hand, he motions McCoy to follow him as he starts down a corridor toward the buzzing noise.
The walls of the corridor are made from crudely hewn stone block, some almost black and others light gray with streaks of metal running through them. Basalt? Spock would know. Every six or seven meters torches of bundled sticks—deep red like the trees outside—are set into carved niches, lighting their way.
As the buzzing grows louder Kirk slows down and finally stops where the corridor branches off into two directions.
To the left, a short hall opens up into an open space. The corridor leading to the right is completely dark. Turning so he can catch McCoy's eye, Kirk nods and they head to the noise.
A group of Nibiruans are sitting and kneeling in the center of the circular room around a small open fire. Like the inhabitants Kirk has seen earlier, these people are pale white, almost glowing in the dim firelight, though whether their skin color is natural or an artifact of design is impossible to know. Likewise with the dark striations that mark their faces.
Most are wearing variations of the same saffron-colored clothing—some little more than loincloths and others full-length tunics. Here and there Kirk spots what are obviously children and even babies in arms.
On one side of the room are several wall hangings like the ones the tall Nibiruan had been holding up the night before in the compound outside. About a meter long and half as narrow, the hangings are decorated with pictograms or ideographs which Uhura and Spock suggested are images of the volcano and the inhabitants who live around it. Sacred texts, from the deference the Nibiruans show.
With a nod toward the nearest wall hanging, Kirk starts forward, McCoy right behind him. No one seems to notice them.
And that is a surprising problem.
No sooner has Kirk slipped the wall hanging from the protrusion holding it up, he rolls it up and waits to be discovered.
"That will be the tricky part," he had told McCoy during their planning session yesterday on the Enterprise. "Making sure they follow us far enough away from the temple so the shuttle can get into place."
"Oh, that's the tricky part," McCoy had said, rolling his eyes. "Making sure they want to kill us for taking their sacred parchments."
"Something like that," Kirk said with more bravado than he felt.
Now he stands with the rolled parchment in his hand and watches the circled Nibiruans ignore him.
Kirk is certain that several of the people closest to him see him—have looked at him directly and turned back around.
Is it possible that the parchments mean nothing, or that touching or taking them is not a desecration at all but something familiar and expected?
So, be unexpected.
"Hey!" Kirk shouts.
That works. Immediately several Nibiruans get to their feet and gesture broadly with their arms. Suddenly a heavy spear flies through the air and bangs into the wall behind him.
"Let's get out of here!" Kirk shouts, and McCoy doesn't need to be told twice.
A/N: A shorter chapter to entertain you during the busy holiday season. The next chapter is almost done and will be up very soon. Thanks for everyone who sends reviews. That feedback keeps me going!