The Assignment

Star Trek – Animorphs

"Spock here."

"We've come across a small snag down here, Mr. Spock, and could use your expertise."

"On my way, Captain."

"Oh, and Spock - take the shuttle. And bring a few hands to help with the heavy lifting."

"Sir?"

"...On the double, mister. Kirk out."


An appropriately brief briefing to security officers Hendell, Sek, Orlando and Asuf allowed flight down to the original beam-in point within the hour. At times such as these, the proficiency of the crew in last-minute adjustments must be appreciated. This did not require a verbal acknowledgement.

Touchdown on-planet marked a first for Commander Spock. The first sunrise on Eirin. A deep orange wash sparkled through thick foliage, a veritable green umbrella reaching up to half a kilometer from the rainforest proper.

Despite typically rocky foundations beneath widely spaced proto-grass, his first step sank down to the arch of his foot. Spock paused to observe the clearing.

No visitors or waiting responders from the local village. A guide was unnecessary; yet for a people known to honour every occasion to prove courage in facing the unknown, a strange coincidence.

Greater width in pace allowed disembarkment to safer ground. His boot removed itself from the pliable lichen without incident.

"Gentlemen, we will proceed together as per the Captain's instructions," relayed Spock upon completion of a full 360 degree rotatory scan. "Ensign Asuf to remain and guard the shuttlecraft."

Older than the typical befreckled recruit to bolster Security ranks, Mr. Asuf had repositioned himself to the somewhat protected space behind cooled engine nacelles. His commanding officer depended on that experience and level-headed approach to the guarantor of a swift exit.

"On me," Spock said, striking out past needle-like ferns to a wide path cut two feet vertical into the earth. It led them into the shadow of the trees.

Proceeding widely as the forged track allowed, Lieutenant Sek formed the left wing of their staggered v-formation. Ensign Hendell scanned the forest floor for irregularities, typical in the soaked and ever-transforming geomorphology of Eirin, fellow crewman Orlando on point at his side.

Spock kept an even pace just within the limits of the path, avoiding lurid flowering plants creeping among fresh dirt on curling vines.

Quiet conversation among the humans of the landing party left Spock to his own devices.

Sure of their distraction, the vulcan spoke into the tricorder strapped to his torso. Already focused on the many detriments to land travel through highly populated flora, prompted by the unwitting demise of an insectile creature via Mr. Sek's instinctive swat at a 'tickle on his back', the unfortunate specimen allowed for separate, undisturbed study.

If Mr. Orlando had paid attention to the man on his right, he may have become concerned at Mr. Spock's observations.

"A vulcan's circulatory system is at its basis similar to most mammalian species across the cosmos. However, my haemoglobin, unlike that of the humans with whom I serve, is based upon the element of copper. It is unlikely that any creature predilected to consume iron-based blood would be capable of digesting so radically different a substance."

He observed a shrivelled stalk, the husk grey and mottled. In comparison to visible droplets on surrounding plant material, the stem appeared dry, approaching disintegration.

"I have discovered some evidence upon my person," an eye to a pustule on the back of his hand, weeping clear fluid from the angry greenish spot, "of undigested, expelled material in miniature pellet form."

He did not speak for some anecdotes from the landing party and twenty metres further below the trees later.

As if waiting for a response, Spock deliberately released a deep huff of air. Glances from his men did not concern the outwardly stoic vulcan. They returned to a sparse set of commentary now, watching the increasing shadows beneath every bunch and bushel.

He focused. It did not matter to hear nothing, see nothing, from the impulsive collection of mind and instinct somewhere near his scalp.

Nothing.

Zip. Quick flicker, a tiny projectile.

Blurred hand. The pinch could have tapped the finer nerves of an infant, the wings of a terran fly, without harm to either.

He caught it.

Struggling, even biting, was futile. He did not intend to let go.

Panic. Determination. Planning.

Spock increased the force between his fingers. It did not crush the speck of organic life within. However, the motion sensed through sensitive pads ceased.

Recognition.

Spock had never made contact with life so much smaller than himself. Larger, yes. Less defined, indeed.

And yet the sheer force of will held in his hand could have filled the shuttle bay. It almost brought a wince to bear it, this connection so intimate, so close and unstoppable through touch.

He brought the hand close to his mouth. Better to have this conversation now, before meeting with the captain.

"Perhaps this will suffice, Mr. Teddy."

A very strange look from Mr. Sek. Spock made a mental note to commend the lieutenant in his report.

Another stretch of silence, simmering hatred between his fingers. Verbal communication did not provoke response. Spock knew of another option; it did not appease his wish to make peaceful contact and avoid further bewilderment of the fragile peace with a new life form. The Crawford being aboard the Enterprise had, after all, shown remarkable attachment to the Teddy creature.

But this refusal of acknowledgement did not propagate communication. Spock resigned himself to another outburst.

Connect. A brush. The wake of gentle passing, a mind to be taken along and experience the short burst of information he had found most useful in similar situations.

I am Spock. Peace. Peace. Friends.

Nerves coiled, ready, the lax oil of outer recompose a mere epidermal layer to mental shields, Spock braced himself.

Cindy Crawford had not reacted well to mental suggestion.

Teddy opened, in the proverbial sense, like a flower to the sun.

«...Friends, huh.»

Amazed. Spock sensed wariness. In some way more open to the concept than the female, to connection through thought.

«You can talk without using your mouth. I was wondering if you were ever going to shut up.»

Vulcans did not whoop in victory. Spock appeased the sense of gaining a small, very small advancement in the orders set at the beginning of this unusual venture with a long, head-swivelling surveillance of the increasingly waterlogged environment.

«Uh, just so we're clear.» Miniature legs moved in a most disconcerting way within his grip. «I don't trust you. But, you know, I could change my mind. If you let go of me.»

To free the remarkable escapee specimen in so uncontrolled a space did not, in truth, appeal.

Spock relaxed his fingers to decrease the captive pressure, perhaps allowing for the parasite's comfort.

Peace. Stillness; questions, answers, freedom and friendship.

Complex response. Yet the creature Teddy did not speak in fallible, audible verbality.

Among those beings capable of communication through thought, many of whom the lieutenant commander had personal experience with, none used this precise combination of image and personal concept so effectively. In the perfectly understandable euphoria of finally achieving a dialogue, Spock realized, he did not set proper emphasis on the value of Teddy's methods.

Had the female practiced her own mental arts during that traumatic experience in the med-laboratory?

A comment from the leading officer had Spock and Lieutenant Sek swing into the defensive diamond formation. The pinching hand tucked in safely behind his hip.

The road narrowed. A stiff breeze through branches nearly so thick as the struts within the Enterprise's supportive structure cooled the party into a collective shiver. Continuing meant stepping down into a channel filled with water, and to Mr. Hendell's reflexive complaint, knee-high banks of silt. Spock gazed at the black water.

Not toxic. The twigs and greenery carried along by a gentle current did not pose a threat to their health. Their waterproof leg covers, picked out in a fit of motherly pique and pressed upon his team, would unfortunately require a positive note in his mission log.

And with witnesses, Spock did not have the option to feign their necessity and dump the evidence where it may not be discovered.

He did not regret maintaining good health among the crew. Spock did regret having to admit in any professional capacity a sense of gratitude to the ship's CMO.

"Down unto the channel, gentlemen. I will proceed last; do not wait for me. The village," gestured downriver, past the first enormous cranni tree towards the edges of the forest, "lies twenty minutes' march due east."

Tension as a hand cramp barely caused Spock's eyes to flicker. He waited, still as the dead, until the three men had slogged through the mud and half-slid into water.

Then, he followed. He did not react to the temperature, prepared via tricorder reading for icy slush frothing around booted ankles. A vulcan must know their limits; it is not logical to deliberately push on in spite of his natural reaction to the cold. Spock keyed his communicator to that of the team, nodded them on and took his time traversing one of Eirin's many interlocking rivers.

Query. Friendship. Memory.

«That's none of your business. Can't help but notice you're still squishing me, the insect grumped, searing resentment and a distant, yearning anxiety spreading dark wings over Teddy's intelligent mind.

Free of listening ears, Spock verbalized. "Your ally is still aboard the ship. If I release you, she would be made aware if you were to abandon her there."

The 'voice', in truth a series of images and feelings to communicate without language, implied displeasure. «Yeah. I know.»

Still, he hesitated.

«Look, what have you got to lose?» Teddy hedged. «You still have one of us. I won't disappear, not with C- Cindy trapped up there.»

He drew the hand up to face level, curious. Most curious.

One should not stutter through thought. Repeat, perhaps. Cycle. Reuse. Perhaps an element unique to Teddy's manner of speech. Nevertheless. Spock hummed to himself, stride increasing to escape an uprooted fern's clinging roots. "...Very well. A moment."

For if Teddy was to change in the manner of his fellow, the cool water may have detrimental effects on his health. Spock did not want to place either of them at risk.

And his ankles no longer rolled on a smooth joint. The dexterity required to climb up a bank, still pinching with one hand, using the elbow as a secondary limb with which to force his way through piled vegetative waste, proved difficult.

Spock controlled harsh breathing until his heart stopped pulsing in his gut.

Teddy grew impatient. Not so as to speak again.

The proximity to such restlessness kept a shivering vulcan on the move, rubbing his arms from time to time. Plants grew thickly by the river, shallow as it was, and it took vulcan strength to finally tear through them. Short, controlled cycles of respiration returned to sustainable levels.

On the other side, a clearing. Boulders. Spock's brow furrowed, tricorder raised with a series of questions forming in that formidable mind.

Rocks in the forest. On Eirin. Despite thorough scanning, continued as per regulation to explore the planet's surface without risk to the crew, very few sites beneath the enormous rainforests had seemed to hold any kind of solid rock formations. The mountain range by which the shuttlecraft landed was one of three across the entire planet. This shelf of rock should not be here.

Spock stood in silence until clawed feet clutched at his finger pads. It shook him from a reverie. The clearing, three metres across and open to a larger area for a tall shard of stone, may suit a transformation.

He opened the possibility to Teddy. In respect to his manner of speech, Spock included an example of his own visual perspective.

Query. Space. Time, transformation, communication. The image.

Interest. Teddy did not reply for a moment. When he did, the essence of thought seemed... sheepish. «Yeah, that'll do.»

Release. Spock resisted the urge to shake out his hand. The tension dissipated swiftly, a strong release within himself almost physically exhausting in the sense of finality, of relief.

Sharp eyes barely picked the brown speck on his thumb before it flung itself into space.

He peered through the heavy air, stamping his feet on occasion. The atmosphere below the canopy blew thick and warming to the blood, if dim, to the fascination of the science department and one chilled first officer.

But the curious separation of climates above and below the forests of Eirin did not distract Spock from his purpose. He waited.

And waited.

When the grim air drew faint shadows below what he believed to be the rock garden, for standing without action required some activity over the extended time and Spock had an interest in xenoanthropology, eighteen standard minutes had passed.

Teddy did not come back.

He would have sensed its presence if the being had attempted the same methodology of hiding on his person, just as swiftly as Spock had noticed it before.

Touch telepathy had an advantage in such situations, it would seem.

The corner of his mouth almost drooping, almost moved to a lack of non-emotion, Spock brushed his communicator in thought.

Check-in with the team should assuage any concern for his safety. He did so, offering no explanation for his absence.

Well used to the vulcan way of disinclination to unnecessary speech, both Lieutenant Sek and Ensign Asuf signed off without comment. He allowed himself, alone, unsupervised, a very human-like sigh.

"This occasion, while unfortunate," Spock crouched to touch an unlikely stone, "may as of yet turn for the successful." Not emboldened by mere speech, he assured himself, but encouraged as to the potential of the day.

Pebbly, rough. Familiar. His head tilted.

Was this not of the same type as Mr. Scott's specimens? Corsite - Napoleonite? So far from any sources of igneous activity. Perhaps the result of ancient, long-dormant volcanoes, if unlikely, considering the lack of supportive strata in this zone. It called for more samples. He should have brought a carry bag.

One of the boulders seemed different from the rest.

As he crouched before it, cracked, open to the air, a gleam from within drew attention. Fingers curled into the cleft of rock, for it seemed freshly broken, dry despite the recent storm, and likely hid no venomous life forms. Spock did not require a great deal of force to pull the halves apart.

It yawned open between his hands, debris sliding into the dirt.

Yes. Exact to the orbicular crystals of Mr. Scott's vexing samples.

Touching the remains aboard the Enterprise had had no ill effects. Spock was a wise creature; he knew from study and personal experience not to touch strange minerals, crystals in particular, by hand.

Gathered into a waxy leaf larger than his own head, six unique crystals grasped firmly so as not to drop them, he cast a long look over the clearings. Aside from the broken corsite stone, he saw nothing.

No shape. No sound. No proof that Teddy had ever been there.

Head bowed for a moment, Spock turned to slip back into the water. He'd warmed in the mild activity and had no reason to wait. The humans did not move so swiftly as a vulcan late to meet his captain.

This would not be the last of the transforming child. Teddy would return.

Spock was sure of it.