Chapter 29- Black Magic
Peter tried not to make it so obvious that he was staring by trying to keep a neutral expression, but he just couldn't shake the awe of being faced with an honest to god alien- and one so fierce looking as the one that approached the group with a stride that conveyed absolute authority and confidence. In the back of his mind he knew that Spock was also an alien by technicality, but for whatever reason his foreignness was easier to accept and hardly even seemed remarkable compared to what he was now faced with.
"Captain Kirk." Koth greeted with bared, pointed teeth that made Peter cringe inwardly. "I welcome you to the ship."
Jim gave a polite nod and returned the greeting with a little more friendliness than the Klingon could have possibly mustered. "Captain Koth. I have assembled a team of medical and engineering staff to offer assistance." He gestured over his shoulder to his compatriots who all stood stoically awaiting orders. "With any luck we can get you all patched up and on your way, but if not we will have to make other arrangements. My first officer and I can work with you and your crew to come up with a contingency plan while my people get to work."
Koth briefly took in the sight of Spock because he needed no introduction- not after the Narada incident. He was known throughout the galaxy for being the poster boy of Starfleet's inclusive propaganda campaign as the first Vulcan to join the organization. Although the Vulcans were one of the early founders of the Federation of Planets, they resisted participating in Starfleet because they deemed their talents better used for their own scientific pursuits, so finding a young, bright Vulcan willing to break the mold was quite a find indeed even if he was half-human and therefore not fully Vulcan or representative of his race.
Even though Klingons had very few dealings with Vulcans, they generally viewed them as inferior due to their pacifist code of conduct and general distaste for warfare. However, Spock once again defied expectations and earned an honorable mention among Klingons for his decisive action to destroy the Narada on a suicide mission. His death would have qualified as honorable according to their beliefs because it would have occurred during battle. And even though he ended up surviving- a stain on his otherwise perfect record according to them- he was redeemed by the fact that he succeeded in taking out many Romulans and anyone who was an enemy of the Klingon's foes was an ally.
His eyes fell on a shorter man in a blue shirt that fidgeted with his medical bag with an intense look on his face. By the looks of it, this was his first encounter with his race and he was tempted to lunge at him and growl just to watch him jump, but the taller man in red caught his attention. This human had the unmistakable look of a warrior in his dark eyes- one who was not afraid of death and one who enjoyed the thrill of battle. Had his ears been pointed and his face tattooed, he could pass entirely for a Romulan and he found himself chuckling lightly. It was a rare thing to find a human with such attributes. Those that did have the killer instinct were locked away on what the Federation politely termed rehabilitation centers, but there was no mistaking it for anything less than a warehouse for those that refused to play well with others and Koth wondered how this one managed to escape such a fate and get into Starfleet nonetheless.
For his part, Sylar maintained the wild man's glare without flinching. No matter how feral he appeared, he knew that with the twitch of his finger he could destroy him so there was not even a modicum of intimidation. Aside from this, the being's primitive appearance with his pointed teeth, wild hair and animal skin and fur trim clothing, Sylar thought he looked like a Neanderthal that he remembered seeing as a child on a class trip to the Natural History Museum. He seemed equally brutish and dimwitted compared to him. Evolution was apparently still an active process and no matter how much the alien tried to physically outdo him the laws of nature dictated that brains beat brawn and in this respect he was the apex of the evolutionary food chain.
"You will find that my crew will likely refuse your medical intervention," Koth stated in a low voice returning his eyes to Jim, "but of those that will agree you can do what you can. I will have my chief engineer meet your people here to escort them to the engine rooms. You and your first officer follow me."
When they were safely out of earshot, McCoy leaned over to Peter and whispered "Get anything yet?"
"He has taken a liking to Sylar." He reported rolling his eyes. "He thinks they have something in common."
McCoy took one look at Sylar and shook his head. "Can't argue there, but I think he'd make a better Romulan."
"Yeah, that's what he thought too." Peter sighed shifting his bag again.
The atmosphere was deadly silent on the bridge. Claire had stopped crying and tried to put on a brave face, but no one was buying it least of all Chekov. Nathan sat in a nearby chair with his head in his hands, feeling each dirty look that emanated from Uhura, Hiro, and Ando as though they were spears piercing him through and through. He didn't mean for his statements to come out like they did, yet he was made aware with each sob and accompanying "Shhh" from Noah that once again his best intentions had gone sour. It was some kind of Petrelli curse to have what was meant as a simple expression of concern for his brother come out like he hated his own daughter and wished she would die. It was like having the reverse of the Midas touch- instead of gold all he ever made was crap- piles and piles of it to step in and try his best to clean up and he for one was getting damn sick of it.
He wanted to explain it to her or at least say he was sorry although he knew she wouldn't believe a word of it and really, why should she? All he had ever done was publicly ignore her and sweep her under the rug as a political inconvenience, the same he had done to Peter by spontaneously announcing at a fundraiser that his younger sibling was depressed and suicidal when he was trying to prove he could fly by diving off a building. He would never forget the look of absolute shock and betrayal in Peter's eyes that night and ever since then his soul hurt every time he thought about it. But in the end, Peter put on a brave smile and played the martyr just as Nathan knew he would so he could move ahead a few points in the polls. Jesus! What kind of a man does that to his kid brother? What kind of a sick, masochistic bastard had he become that he could so wantonly hurt those around him, blinded by his own agenda? He glanced up and felt his eyes burn and swell with tears. He didn't want to be that man anymore but he had burned so many bridges and taken a few too many turns during double crossings that he was afraid he could never find his way home again.
Claire took a seat next to Chekov and smiled at him nervously. Of all the people in the room, he seemed the most innocuous and the least likely to patronize her. She didn't know why, but she just had that feeling about him and she wasn't disappointed. His blue eyes went wide momentarily, but he gladly made room for her with a polite smile. "So," she stated looking over the many controls that blipped and shined on his console, "what do all these do?"
"I am the navigator for the ship." He proudly explained. "All these displays tell me vhere ve are and I have star maps…" He quickly pulled up an example of their current position for her to examine "so if I get the order to jump away quickly I can program the computer to do it safely."
"Wow." Claire nodded still not understanding what all the readouts meant. "Sounds important. This is certainly not the job for me. I can get lost in a parking lot." She laughed and it was a genuine sound, not at all forced and it was because she instantly felt comfortable around the young Russian.
"Vell, important yes, but it is just one job of many. My friend Sulu is the pilot and his job is wery important. Vithout him ve go nowhere." He turned to smile at his friend and added, "Although he is the Captain right now. Probably the most important job."
"I'm not very good at the whole parallel parking thing, so that is probably out too." She smiled.
"Everyone can do something." He encouraged. "Vhat are you good at?"
"Oh…" she waved him off and shrugged. " I was a cheerleader once. Probably the only thing I was ever good at."
Chekov didn't know exactly what a cheerleader did, but he would have guessed it had something to do with making people happy and he could see that as a good fit for her. "Then perhaps you could vork vith the morale department. They put on dances and parties and activities for the crew, especially vhen ve are in deep space vith nothing to do."
She giggled and said, "No one would want to come to my parties unless they like paper hats and pin the tail on the donkey."
"I vould come." He replied with a quiet smile and he was pleased when she slowly smiled back.
Sylar and Scotty stood in the sweltering bowels of the ship with the chief engineer keeping a close eye on them. He had brought them down a twisting path of ladders and stood guard over another section of the engine rooms as though there were something he was preventing them from seeing. Scotty jumped right in and was already covered in grease and rust, but he looked happier than a pig in mud unlike Sylar who was not really a fan of getting his hands dirty. The watch repair business was a relatively clean one since dirt could jam up the sensitive gears, and for the most part his new profession of power collecting was also a hands-off affair thanks to his telekinesis. Only when it was necessary to probe the brain to actually collect power did things get a little messy, but even then he was getting proficient in knowing where to look for what he wanted, minimizing the amount of time he actually had to handle brain matter. Of course he always had the option to charm his way into getting powers, but that wasn't nearly as much fun.
He crouched behind a large bit of machinery and pretended to be interested in the inner workings so as not to be suspicious. He gathered information about the Klingons with each piece of the ship he touched using his clairsentience, seeing that they were a warrior race that valued honor, but lacked sophistication. All the while, he surreptitiously glanced around at the configurations of the ship's pipes and wires and let his aptitude do the rest while he absentmindedly fiddled with some loose wires in the machine, connecting them without really meaning to. "Take care with that, lad." Scotty advised as banged away on a pipe with a large wrench. "That's a power station for the main drive. One slip and ya might find yourself blown inta the next quadrant."
"Not like I haven't experienced that before." He grumbled as he thought of Elle. Despite Scotty's warning, he accidently set off a shower of sparks that could have been mistaken for the fourth of July and he drew back his hand with a sharp hiss. Scotty watched wide eyed as the singed flesh smoothed over and Sylar brushed away the charred bits of skin to reveal a perfectly normal hand as though nothing happened. Scotty tried his best to conceal the mixture of horror and fascination he felt and resumed pummeling the pipe into submission with more vigor than before as he pondered what he just witnessed. Unfortunately, the chief engineer had witnessed it as well and he was coming over to investigate.
"What are you?" He growled standing over Sylar in a threatening manner. "What magic do you have to do such a thing?"
Sylar glanced up and a twisted smirk formed on his face as he slowly rose up to tower over the shorter Klingon. "The black kind." He answered simply as he threw the man up against the wall with a flick of his wrist and held him there.
"This can't be!" The engineer howled as he took in his impossible circumstances. "The gods are dead!"
Sylar stalked toward him, letting each footfall echo like a gunshot before he came to a stop in front of his victim. "Is that so?" He asked with a cruel smile and with a casual shrug he added "Well, we're back."
