The Assignment

Star Trek – Animorphs


Wind lashed rain-struck fronds in the bare minimum of light cast by intermittent flashes of lightning.

A metallic taint to the air lingered after each savage crack from the sky. It tasted of energy, of metals, and most uncomfortably of blood. The first impressions of this planet did not leave the first landing party with joy. Rather, as he cast a hand over his eyes and counted the dim figures standing beside him in another brilliant flash of light, the captain of the Enterprise cursed his luck through gritted teeth.

First impressions? Not his favourite landing. But seeing the movement of his crew gave him a sense of purpose beyond trying to see through driving rain. James T. Kirk's shouted command flew over their heads in the dull roar of thunder. Seeing the incomprehension of the young woman closest to him, Kirk used his only other way of getting the point across without using his well-trained voice.

A firm clasp on her upper arm and sharp gestures to the others, miming a hand closing, caught on swiftly.

Together as a sodden pack they tramped from the flattened vegetation at the beam-in point. Despite the complete darkness, a shout in between the bouts of the storm brought the straggling human chain under a deep overhang of rock. Kirk wiped the rain from his eyes, glancing over the edges of the cliff. He hadn't even seen it until it nearly scratched his nose.

A sudden chill caught him by surprise. The water wasn't completely shut out from the landing party and he could feel it through the thin material of his uniform.

The scans hadn't exactly promised sunny weather, but this was ridiculous.

"Sir!"

"Ensign, report." To keep with Starfleet protocol he didn't wipe the excess water from his mouth like a drooling invalid. It felt uncomfortably warm and sprayed into the hand he'd wisely set as a mouthguard.

Wide eyes blinked under a mass of brown hair, just shy of overlong. "There's no signs of the native sentients, captain. Our instruments aren't reacting well to the storm!"

"Is that as a result of the interference, or have we beamed to the wrong location?"

"Captain."

Despite the unfortunate conditions, the perfect bowl-cut of his second had survived. That and the gleam of his slanted ears in the darkness brought Kirk's full attention to bear. The muted chatter of his landing party blended into rushing water as if it didn't exist. "Yes, Mr. Spock?"

A tilt to his head acknowledged Kirk's inference. "I believe that our instrumentation should become useful once more in the event of less inclement weather. And despite the circumstances of our arrival, I do not believe that we have come to avoid our intended coordinates."

"And what gives you that impression, Mr. Spock?"

"My assistance was given in marking the location for our beam-down, sir."

"Oh. I see." And the dark humidity of the semi-cave gave him the excuse to wipe away the slight smile. "I understand. How long until -"

The shout brought him to the balls of his feet, whipping around with his holstered phaser just under a steady palm.

In the startled flash of lightning the movement seemed like some kind of crazy dance. The sort he'd joined at parties, at meetings with the less - or more, according to his close friends - human denizens of the galaxy.

Not easily thrown by the strange, Captain Kirk moved to the head of the small pack of crewmen. A shouted order lay in wait in his chest, barrelled out and ready to bellow.

He didn't see it. Just the scent raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Kirk drew the phaser, thumb at the ready. A thin shoulder was the last between him and the panicked voices.

Blood. But sharp. Fresh?

"Move!"

The last did and the blue shirt left the familiar impression in a corner of his mind that whoever was bleeding had the best answer close by. Kirk didn't spare the time but rushed forward. His speed caught it by surprise.

Yellow. Two eyes, an unnatural shade that caught the storm to almost glow seconds after each flash.

Not thrown by the inhuman glare, Kirk almost had it in his grasp before the sound jumpstarted his heart into a new rhythm. It stank of wet hair and raw meat, but the deep snarl in a set of beefy jaws caught the last of a thundercrack in its menacing rumble. He paused. Not from fear of the snarl. Just the glint of gold on a red sleeve.

It had four legs. Clawed feet. An arm in its mouth and hair rising on its back in obvious threat.

No time to think. But no way to act with one of his people so close to being ripped apart. The muscles under its coat didn't bulge or seem particularly powerful, but the blood and small sounds of pain coming from his man had enough threat to them. Kirk clenched his fingers into claws, the phaser forgotten.

A sense of movement at his back brought everything into a fierce clarity. Kirk had backup. If he went to tangle with the animal, he might be savaged but the crewman would be safe.

As usual, Kirk didn't think further than that. His elbow caught it between the eyes.

A sharp yip and higher yelp from the man down, dragged by the retreating animal's jaws and he pursued in a crouch. Kirk met its eyes in the single-minded fashion of purpose unique to Starfleet's finest.

It glared over the torn arm. Teeth showed as it properly snarled, lips back over a very familiar set of fangs. Kirk didn't let that distract him. It was almost at the wall and had nowhere else to go. The animal arched a furry tail like the many canines from Earth and gathered its legs underneath itself.

He blinked. He could see it, now. The light playing over the scene showed in a circle and threw shadows in relief like cave paintings on the walls. Someone must have activated a flashlight. About time.

Now with it cornered Kirk's attention wavered. His eyes fell to the face of his crewman. Squeezed tight against the pain, he couldn't catch his eye but had a great view of the drops of sweat running pink to pool in red.

A cool presence at his side stopped Kirk's slow advance. "Captain. I would suggest a method to rescue the lieutenant not involving further physical contact."

"Worried, Spock?"

"Can we just shoot it, gentlemen?" Dry as a summer day and ready to advance despite the vicious alien creature assaulting Starfleet personnel. The captain acknowledged his friend and medical officer with a quick glance. "I don't think I like the thought of the bacteria infestin' that thing's incisors."

Shooting it over the limp arm could work. Kirk brandished his phaser.

And then, to the shock of everyone gathered under tons of protective rock, the beast opened its mouth.

The torn sleeve dropped to the lieutenant's chest, swiftly cradled under the man's untouched right arm. Still hunched over his man and tight as a bowstring, the animal slavered. Its eyes burned like distant suns, fixed on something at about waist-height. Kirk didn't feel the need to think too hard about it. He levelled his weapon and thumbed it to level III.

"Captain, wait."

A pause. Not much else could have stopped him from depressing that activator button. Just the bland tones of a most trusted officer. Cool as always. And calculated to that precise moment of taking the miserable beast out of their collective miseries. "...Elucidate, Mr. Spock."

The beast yet rumbled. It hadn't stopped growling, he realized, throughout the whole event. As Spock began to speak again it flickered the yellow gaze - so oddly bright, Kirk couldn't help but notice them - as if listening to the speaker.

"This creature may not be of use to us dead." A long-fingered gesture encompassed the scene in the usual economy of energy he'd come to expect from the Vulcan. "As we have, as you say, cornered it, perhaps a stun setting would benefit us and our approach to the dangers of this planet."

Silence. Even the thunder seemed to wait in between the flashes of lightning. A distant part of Kirk noted the storm beginning to distance itself from his crew.

"And what do you intend to do to it, Mr. Spock?"

The white light kept over the encounter brought little distinction to those dark eyes. But Kirk didn't look for answers there. He noted the gentled line of Spock's lips, his relaxed posture. Right next to the apparently comfortable vulcan the trembling angles of his medical officer lent a thunderous backdrop to Kirk's current decision. There was little pity or interest for study in the good doctor. Kirk could understand that.

Still.

Spock made no more gestures. "Observe, captain. And when the time comes, we will have an existing body to study and dissect."

From the corner of his eye Kirk noticed it. A sharp jerk of the animal's snout. It... reacted.

As if it heard Spock. And better yet, had some idea of what it meant. He kept an eye on it and waved to the waiting doctor. "Bones?"

"Damnit Jim, you can't let that thing live! It could be resistant to a stun, could come out of it and attack one of us!"

Rubbing hands together, McCoy looked less eager to set hands on the wet fur of a stunned animal than on the broken bones of the fallen lieutenant. "I say we shoot it and find another, if it's so important to your research, Commander."

Yes. It reacted again. This time, it eyed the open space past James Kirk. Into the wilds beyond. The hairy ears pinned back against its coat and it shifted closer over the crewman.

"Yes..." He rubbed his chin slowly. "Mr. Spock. Can you come over here and block its escape route?"

He was aware of the two officers exchanging looks.

If this thing could hear and understand Standard, it might be capable of hearing the development of a plan and deciding to react accordingly. What Kirk wanted to know was how an intelligent being could act like a savage beast without provocation.

What he'd like to do was see how smart it really was. He couldn't do that with an escapee. They had to move swiftly.

"Gentlemen -"

Lips parted to issue a quiet order, Kirk whipped to the side. A sharp, blinding pain on his face, across his mouth caught him momentarily senseless.

"TSEEEEER!"

Panic. Heat and blood bubbling under his fingers. Kirk raised the phaser, only remembering just in time to dial it to the lowest setting. He fired.

He missed. A dark shadow caught the other side of his face. But the sharp pain didn't come. Soft and rounded somethings brushed his ear while a smarting blow caught the back of his head.

It was pandemonium. The light had gone out, he thought, perhaps in the hands of a less experienced ensign. The strobing effect didn't keep him off-balance for long.

Disregarding the pain Kirk stood tall and struck out overhead, blind and snarling.

His hand struck something both soft and hard at the same time. A squawk in his ear and a thud by his foot had him strike out with a foot. It landed on rock. The shadow, caught in a short flash of another source of light, stared in the midst of a brown flurry.

Yellow eyes. Again. But not a canid beast this time.

It matched his gaze for that split moment and careened out of the cave. It flew.

And as if to add insult to injury, a wild laugh echoed from the forbidding skies. Without another word it faded into the distance. Kirk stood in the midst of what must be his most undisciplined landing party across years of spacing experience. He pressed the back of his hand to bleeding lips.

"Laughter." It muffled against his knuckles. "It was laughing at us."

And no animal laughed. Not like pleasure, like the thrill of winning a fight. He eyed after the passing storm, acknowledging the disappearance of the savage canid reported by a hunched-over lieutenant by beckoning over McCoy and aiming him at the worst injury of the night.

"Captain, are you well?"

He checked the back of his hand. Another light, several perhaps, lit the space in a most imprimitive fashion. He'd have to have words with whoever organised that once the major disaster of this landing could be sorted out. By this light he saw the dark blood crusting on rare patches of dry skin. "Yes, I'm alright."

They stood together, facing the blackness of destroyed night vision in silence.


(Not a one-shot. Updates may be restricted under circumstance of real-life operations.)

Enjoy!