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Chapter Six: Progeny
Jim Kirk strode down the hallways of his ship, eyes bright, hair slightly tousled, a man on a somewhat anticipated mission. He turned down another corridor, black boots falling firmly on the steel floors, and took a turbolift to G Deck. Exiting the small elevator, he made a beeline for the BioChemistry lab.
"Good Morning, Doctor Marcus," he called as he entered, and the pretty blonde doctor glanced up, trying to prevent a smile at the Captain's unusual brightness.
"It's 1400, Captain," she pointed out, and he shrugged.
"Then I guess it's more of a Good Afternoon. How are the little tikes today?" he asked, gesturing to the containment chamber and the growing nest on the experiment table.
"Growing faster than they should be," she said, and the 177 in the chamber threw itself against the glass with a shriek. He moved back instinctually, throwing his hands up in surprise. He laughed nervously.
"That's a nasty little creature."
Carol's expression tightened, as if she had taken a bite of an Aenarian sour orange. "That's not the half of it. It attacks anything we put in the tank with it; and soon it will outgrow its containment."
"That sounds like it could be a problem," Kirk decided, and she nodded sarcastically, going over to the nest. The other creature was nestled in the blankets, watching quietly with enormous eyes; it had grown too, but it didn't seem to share the insane growth rate of its larger, somewhat nastier counterpart.
"Are they the same species?" Kirk wondered for the dozenth time, and Marcus reached into the nest, picking up the larva like a small child.
"The DNA is fundamentally similar, but there are slight differences that would suggest they stem from the same parent family into separate genus."
It squirmed into a comfortable position and then lay still, soft mandibles chewing gently on the edge of Carol's uniform sleeve. Kirk raised an eyebrow as she gave it a bottle of some vivid green substance.
"You're pretty good with kids, Carol," he pointed out, and she shrugged, but her eyes were soft.
"Most women have some sort of maternal instinct, Jim," she pointed out, and he warmed as she called him by his name.
"You've never seen a Klingon mother," he joked, and the alien spawn wiggled fitfully in her arms. She bounced it as one would an upset infant, and it quieted its clicking sounds of distress. Jim sidled closer looking down at it curiously. It gazed back with prismed amber eyes.
"You ever want kids?" he asked the technician, and she shrugged, setting the 177 back in its nest.
"Maybe someday. I'm only twenty four, you know," she pointed out, and he grinned. She was five years his junior and already such a prodigy in her field. Sort of like most of the members of his ship.
"Boys or girls?"
"I don't have a preference either way. I have names in mind for both," she admitted, and he leaned closer, eyes sparkling. Carol found her eyes drawn to him, despite her attempts to keep them facing forward. She sighed, knowing full well that the Captain wouldn't let her be until she had satisfied his curiosity.
"If it's a girl, Aela. And David for a boy," she finally said, and he nodded, stepping back.
"Those are good names," he replied with a tilt of his head, and they stared at each other for a moment before the swooshing door broke their hold.
"Captain, I have the information from the Galador II autosave systems you requested," Spock announced as he strode into the room, and Jim and Carol stepped away from each other almost a little embarrassed.
"Right, thank you Mr. Spock," he said, taking the extended files, and his fingers brushed the Vulcan's as he did so. Spock quickly retracted his long arm, eyes flickering to Doctor Marcus, and he stepped back.
"I will take my leave now. I apologize for the interruption." Spock turned on his heel and all but fled the room, and Jim shot an apologetic smile at Carol before he followed his First Officer. Spock took large strides and his legs were longer than Jim's, so it took the Captain a moment of jogging to catch up with the half-Vulcan.
"Hey, Spock, wait up," he finally called, and the dark haired male paused, turning dark questioning eyes on his friend.
"Why'd you leave so quickly? We have things to discuss," Jim pointed out, and Spock raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"You appeared...occupied," he replied carefully, and Jim shook his head.
"Doctor Marcus and I were just talking. What were your findings?"
The two resumed their walking, side by side this time, and Spock explained that he had recovered a curious reading on the automated scanners just before the distress signal was fired.
"The instruments recorded a large ship in orbit before the blast which incinerated the surface of the planet," he began, and the corresponding readings appeared on the PADD in Kirk's hands.
"What kind of a ship?"
"That is the question which requires answering, Captain. It is of no known species, make or model we recognize. However," he interjected, expression thoughtful, "It is likely that whoever pilots this craft is responsible for the destruction of Alfa-177 and Galador II."
Kirk's eyes darkened. "We'd better catch up to them before they can do it again. You think a ship is depositing the 177s onto the planets they destroy?" he theorized, and Spock's lips thinnned contemplatively.
"Unknown. What purpose could such an action serve? We have established that the so-called 177s are not intelligent enough to be in control of a spacecraft themselves, but have not uncovered any data suggesting a second more sentient species prior to now."
"And why are they leaving the creatures behind to hatch eggs?" Kirk muttered, frustrated. Spock's dark eyes offered no answers.
"Another mystery which must be solved."
.
A beautiful planet floats in the embrace of space, blue and green, spinning with clouds, bursting with life. It is evening, the daynight line beginning to pass before his eyes. A shadow suddenly overtakes it; a ship? It settles low, brushing the atmosphere, and thousands of writhing shapes suddenly drop from bomb doors, littering the planet surface. They swarm over everything; plants, animals, the scattering humans, devouring everything in their path. A high pitched whine shatters the air; the creatures begin to burrow as if their lives depend on it.
A blast hotter than a thousands stars races across the planet, incinerating the remains and anything left alive, turning a thriving, breathing planet to ash.
Beneath the ash, the creatures begin to lay their eggs.
And a voice that whispers, 'Deneva'.
Spock awoke, not as violently as usual, but with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and aching eyes. He sat up wearily, rubbing the throbbing points of white light behind them.
Again with Deneva? He had never been to the Deneva system, or any of her planets. He knew vaguely that there was a colony located on Deneva Prime and some sort of mining in the asteroid belt of the system. Why was he dreaming of a place he had never seen? It was, logically, impossible for his brain to draw information which he did not know out of his subconscious in the form of dreams; he had no visual knowledge of the planet or her inhabitants, no inkling of what kind of ship had deposited the creatures from Alfa-177, and certainly no imagination that the situation found there would be repeated on another world. All in all, a rather illogical dream.
He rose, washed, dressed, meditated. His shift did not begin for another twenty minutes, but he saw no harm in relieving the Ensign currently occupying the Science Station on the bridge.
Spock exited the Turbolift, stepping onto the main bridge of the Enterprise. The quiet hum of a peaceful but busy crew met his sensitive ears, and he glanced at each of the stations. Uhura's dark eyes quickly looked away from him when his gaze rested on her, but Kirk's blue eyes did not.
"Morning, Mr. Spock. You're a bit early," he said, and the Vulcan paused, eyebrows rising. Was he being chastised? Kirk smiled.
"About time."
Spock nodded, gracing his Captain with the tiniest of smiles and relieving the Ensign at the Science Station. The bridge crew settled into its familiar buzz, tightly woven as a hand knit sweater. This was the Enterprise at its finest.
Suddenly Chekov burst onto the bridge almost wild-eyed, beaming and breathless from running all the way from Engineering.
"I can do eet, Kepten!" he cried, startling Kirk and nearly everyone else on the main bridge with his loud exclamation.
"Do what, Mr. Chekov?" he asked, readjusting himself in his chair where he had started from the loud sound, and the zealous nineteen year old rushed to his arm, pale eyes glittering.
"Track ze sheep!" he cried, and Spock raised an eyebrow, glancing up from his station.
"You will have to be more specific, Ensign, if we are to properly understand your intentions," he chided, and the young Russian made an obvious effort to slow down and to remain speaking English.
"Ze energy signature we discowered at Alfa-177, zere ees one just like eet at Galador two! I scanned for any kind of trail; ions, protons, radiation but nossing! Zen I noticed some strange readings. It was exotic matter, Kepten! Ze remnants of wormhole engines!"
Kirk was on his feet like a rocket.
"Good work, Chekov, see if you can follow the trail, find out where they'll come through. Scotty," he punched the comm for Engineering, "if Chekov tells you to go, you give him everything this ship has got and then a little more. Same goes for you Sulu. Spock, do we know any cultures that are advanced enough for Wormhole travel?" he fired off orders in a rapid burst of commands, and the officers leapt to follow them with record obedience and diligence.
"Several known races possess the capabilities of Wormhole travel," Spock called from the Science Station, and Kirk pointed to him.
"Such as?"
Spock's fingers flew as he researched this information. Uhura, however, beat him to it.
"The El-Aurians of the Delta Quadrant are thought to possess it, but they are a peaceful race. I'd be shocked if they were responsible," she said, and Kirk nodded.
"Ask if any of their ships have gone awal or missing recently. Any others?"
"Only the Kanak'taar," she said, and Spock elaborated, "The Kanak'taar are vaguely humanoid, and cloister themselves in the Gamma Quadrant and hold to an ideology of peace and isolation, but nothing has been heard from them in nearly fifty years. They would be the most logical candidates for investigation."
"Uhura, get a transmission headed for the Gamma Quadrant and send a copy to Starfleet. Try to get something faster there. Ask if the Kanak'taar have any knowledge of a rogue ship destroying planets. Try to emphasize the urgency."
The crew of the mighty flagship rushed off to complete their designated tasks, and Kirk sank back into the Captain's Chair with a sigh.
It had only been two years since he began his Captaincy, more like two and a half since he first commanded the Enterprise in all her glory. The pressure had weighed heavily on his shoulders, but it made them broad, made him strong. It had pitted him against impossible odds, unconquerable situations, and he had come through alive. He had some battle scars-they all did-but their real voyage had just begun. The first three months into their five year mission had been...mostly uneventful. They had some interesting encounters with a Commander Balok, Harcourt Mudd and the android creations of Doctor Roger Korby, among other things. Nothing Kirk had been unable to handle, of course.
That was in part thanks to his phenomenal crew. The faces of his men and women swam behind his eyelids as he closed his eyes briefly, resting back against the chair as they drifted gently in space waiting for a trail to follow. Young Chekov, bold Sulu, striking Uhura, brilliant Scotty. Reliable, grouchy Bones always telling him what to do. Beautiful Carol snarking and flirting just out of his reach.
But he knew fundamentally that he would have died dozens of times over without the comforting shadow of his First Officer at his side. Even now as he contemplated this, he could almost sense Spock at the Science Station, his steady presence lapping at the edges of Jim's consciousness like moonlight. Kirk sat up sharply, shaking himself from his reverie. What was he doing sitting here daydreaming about Spock? He had a ship to run.
Suddenly a call from Security reminded him very sharply of this fact.
"Captain, we have an emergency in Biolab 2!" a voice cried, one he faintly recognized as Lieutenant Scroggins'. He stood quickly.
"What's happened?"
"The larger 177 has escaped from its tank! It wounded Doctor Marcus-she's in sickbay. We're trying to contain it, sir."
Jim's fists clenched. "Scroggins, load that thing full of heavy tranquilizer. Store it in Cargo Bay 9, full security detachment, containment fields on max. It should be safe in there-and more importantly, so should my ship."
"Yes sir." The comm blipped out and Kirk glanced at the door of the Turbolift. Carol had been hurt-could he afford to go to her?
"Exotic Matter trail located, Kepten! We have a lock!" Chekov suddenly cried, and he nodded sharply, sitting back down in his chair.
"Full speed ahead then, Mr. Sulu. Follow that trail. We've got to find the parents of this progeny before it can do any more damage."
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