ALL VOLUNTEERS

Planet HB22147-C, Standard Orbit
USS Enterprise (NCC-1701)
Stardate 2260.357

- 0758 hours -

Holographic displays and scrolling graphics on the transparent monitor constituted complete information overload to anyone in the room who didn't have a lucid, computer-like intellect. Such little difference it made, though, since those not technically savvy enough to understand the displays were not required to understand it anyway. Everyone knew this was a scientific briefing, so the unofficial protocols of a Federation starship prompted a seating arrangement to reflect this reality: the Starfleet planetology team - all of them rookies and all but two of them actually graduate students - dominated most of the first row, while the cartography and astrophysics sections dominated the remainder of this and the second row. The entire left flank of the room consisted of a cluster of communications officers with Lieutenant Uhura as center of gravity, with Lieutenant Sulu on the opposite wing, holding court with a score of sharply dressed navigators and shuttle pilots. The assorted rifraff down the middle had no particular arrangements, since they were the least relevant to this briefing; a half dozen security officers and phaser room specialists, a few curious junior engineers, a token representative from the Starfleet Press Corps, and Doctor McCoy - in the geometric center of the auditorium - acting as the sole representative of the medical department.

The senior most officers held court near the front of the room, facing all others, in a position to either conduct part of the briefing themselves or prompt input from the "audience" of officers gathered around. These eight men and women represented the operating nucleus of this particular mission, and these all orbited around the personal authority of Captan James T. Kirk. "Everyone take your seats," the Captain announced, for the benefit of the three or four people still standing at the moment. The graphics in the holoscreen froze for a moment, snapping back to the beginning of the pre-arranged presentation programmed by Spock and Marcus for the occasion. "This briefing is primarily for the science teams and the communications sections. Tactical Section department heads, you should be taking notes too."

"Excuse me, Captain," Lieutenant Sulu spoke up from his territory of the briefing room, "First question, on notes. Is there any reason to expect combat action resulting from this survey?"

"Not that I know of. Why do you ask?"

One of the shuttle pilots, two seats behind and to the right of Sulu, spoke up, "I'm wondering if we'll be doing anymore dustoff-type missions. That terrain looks pretty hostile up close."

"Hold your questions for now. This is... well, it's a complicated situation."

"I'll say..." Muttered McCoy, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough not to rate serious recognition.

Kirk handed over the podium to the ship's Chief Irritant, the one member of the Planetology team anointed with the title "Doctor" Carolyn Marcus, who took her place as if the entire universe had been waiting for her to speak. "Good morning, everyone, thank you for your patience," she began in that infuriatingly smug manner of hers, as if the meeting could finally begin for real now that she it was her turn to speak, "First a little background to set the stage. As most of you are no doubt aware, the planet below was identified by the USS Constellation during its colonization study two years ago. The Enterprise will be the first Federation starship to examine in this planet in detail." The first of several images appeared on the twin holoscreens, orthographic views of the Constellation on the left and the first orbital visuals of the planet on the right. From his seat near the front of the room, Captain Kirk noted with satisfaction that both images looked deceptively familiar; Constellation because it resembled an older and somewhat smaller version of the Enterprise, and the planet because even at a glance its shorelines and color patterns were nearly identical to those of Earth. Constellation hadn't been equipped for an extended exploration of the planet; like most starships, it was assigned to take photographs, maps, samples and reports. Only a full exploration ship configured for extended voyages stood a chance to probe the mysteries of this strangest of new worlds, and that's where Enterprise came in.

"As you can see," Marcus went on, "Constellation's initial observations raised eyebrows throughout the Federation. Apart from the visual evidence here," the left screen changed to a sensor readout, a pair of spectral analysis charts of the planet's atmosphere and lithosphere respectively, "early scans confirmed an atmosphere with ninety five percent commonality to that of Earth, with a crust and mantle structure of ninety nine percent commonality. It has nearly identical mass and dimensions as Earth, though a somewhat higher density in the upper core. The main differences are the planet's orbital characteristics: it completes one orbit in three hundred and two days, although its rotational period is no more than ten seconds slower than that of Earth."

Here Marcus paused, a silent cue for Commander Spock to pick up the pace on behalf of his own department that did was responsible for Enterprise' first assessments on the scene. For the sake of expedience, Spock omitted the parts of his report that confirmed Constellation' findings and skipped to the parts that Enterprise had found for itself since arriving here six weeks ago. "Constellation's report indicated signs of an advanced civilization on the surface, apparently equivalent to late 20th century Earth. The report included radio signals, electric fields and signs of air and space travel. Based on these reports, our first task on the scene was to evaluate type, intelligence and sophistication of the inhabitants of the planet. Not knowing what to expect, we began with an assumption that the population may also have been a copy in some way of Earth inhabitants and attempted contact on that basis. The results..." the right screen changed to a set of aerial photographs, changing in five second intervals, apparently showing every major city on Earth, "...were quite surprising." A choice of words that reflected the fact that every one of these photographs showed a major Terran population center lying in ruins, its buildings either imploded or knocked on their sides, bridges collapsed, roads and lots overgrown with wild vegetation no one had bothered to tame in generations.

"Our first assessment suggested the cities have been abandoned for approximately three centuries," Spock went on, "based on the rate of growth of the vegetation and the pattern of decay in the surviving structures. This estimate seems consistent with other environmental clues, particularly weathering and certain geological indicators that have begun to destroy older manmade structures. As for the reason for abandonment, early hypothesis included some type of planetwide cataclysm, likely a viral infection or bacteriological contaminant. The lack of widespread devastation ruled out nuclear holocaust or other similar scenarios-"

"Pardon me for interrupting your bill of goods, Mister Spock," Doctor McCoy snarled from his perch in the center of the room, strategically placed, it turned out, since at this moment he was speaking for almost the entire crew, "But aren't we missing the big picture here? Anything could've destroyed the population of the planet, but we still don't have a clue what created it in the first place!"

Doctor Marcus answered gently, "On what basis do you assume this planet was created, doctor?"

"You don't have to be a Vulcan to see that's the only logical explanation! What are the odds that another M-Class planet exactly like Earth would just happen to pop up in a totally alien solar system all by itself? And besides, last week the geological team found that both of the moons have a different composition from Luna, which means they didn't form from a primordial impact against this planet. That means we've got two identical planets with two completely different histories. So, again, what are the odds?"

"Probability is not causation, Doctor," Spock chided, though at the same time conceding, "Although your statement is logically valid. There is no natural phenomenon that could explain the existence of this planet, similarities and all. What's more worrying is the fact that our findings lay in direct contradiction of the Constellation's report, which indicated a thriving post-industrial society on the cusp of developing spaceflight technology. The changes we've observed could not have occurred in only two years. Hence our present hypothesis as to the calamity that devastated its population: that which created this planet in its previous form may also have precipitated its demise."

This seemed to take Doctor Marcus by surprise, though not - apparently - because her theory was any different. Actually, Kirk thought she seemed gratified that another expert on the ship had also come to that same conclusion. "In the end," Marcus took over, "This may lead us to a clue as to who or what created this world, and for what purpose. The possibilities are endless, as are the mysteries. But not to get distracted..."

"Indeed." Spock moved to the next set of slides, replacing both screens neatly. This one showed a life-energy astral pattern superimposed over an orbital photograph of the devastated Gaza Strip. "Global surveys of all local population centers found the destruction was not entirely uniform. As expected, certain areas apparently weathered the cataclysm better than others, and this lead to the discovery of pockets of survivors in isolated areas. This initially lead to a support of the viral hypothesis, since the surviving populations were in areas that - as of 1990s Earth - were economically and industrially under-developed and lacked regular connection to the outside world. Our most promising areas included the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in North America, the Gaza Strip under Israeli occupation, rural areas in Indochina and the Malay Archipelago, Cuba, Haiti, and certain African regions undergoing civil war. The pattern in these regions was for less ubiquitous destruction of population centers, however..." and Spock almost cringed at the thought, "... the survivors demonstrated a marked regression towards animalistic behaviors. Primitive social skills, little or no linguistic capacity, extremely limited intelligence and an elevated aggressive response. Physical abnormalities in these populations were common, but phenotypically consistent, suggesting an evolutionary mutation into a type of bipedal apex predator." The two slides changed now to orthographic views of two such specimens. The first, showed a tricorder scan of a scronny, clearly malnourished and totally nude male with shaggy overgrown body hair, the quintessential "cave man" of anthropological lore. The second, though, was a curiosity: only vaguely human, entirely hairless, with brown and grey spotted skin; its head was a flattened brick that housed a pair of small beady eyes and one gigantic nostril, smashed into a meaty torso between two beach-ball-sized shoulders at the base of huge powerful arms that ended in a set of disproportionately long fingers.

No one but Doctor Marcus and a handful of Spock's science teams had even seen this image. It sent waves through the audience, and set the security men stirring. The communications sections breathed a collective sigh of disappointment, since there was no indication that such a monster would have any desire to communicate with them.

Mister Scott made his first contribution from behind the Captain's seat, "That beastie's not from any Earth I'd remember!"

"Quite right, Mister Scott," Spock said, "This, then, leads to the current state of our investigation. A thorough search of the remaining population centers shows only Gaza, the Congo Region and mountainous inland of Cuba and Haiti are still populated, in this case only by the two creatures you see here, with the latter in far greater numbers and appearing to dominate the former."

One of the communications officers - a dark-haired Orion woman who until now had been taking extremely thorough notes on a palmcomp - asked, "Is there any evidence that sapient life forms did exist here? I mean, for all we know this planet was created as a hunting ground for some kind of carnivorous creatures."

Spock raised a brow, "A curious question, considering the existence of the ruins cannot be explained by anything other than sapient life forms..."

"I think Ensign Ayala is referring to indigenous life forms," Lieutenant Uhura added, "I mean... well... to the extent that any organism here could be considered indigenous."

"I understand." Spock folded his arms and thought it over, "Ignoring the Constellation report, in the past six weeks we have seen numerous indications that some type of civilization did exist here not sooner than three hundred years ago. That suggests that even the original creators of this planet have ceased to be active in its unfolding development-"

"But we can't ignore Constellation's report," Lieutenant Sulu said, "This planet was alive two years ago, and now it's been dead for three hundred years. It could have gone through some kind of time warp, or maybe someone sped up the process just to see what would happen to them. I mean, for all we know, this could be some kind of huge sophisticated ant farm."

Spock stood up straighter, "I'm unfamiliar with that field of agriculture, Lieutenant."

"It's... uh... sort of an aquarium, Sir. Usually two flat panes of glass with sand between them... and they have... well, not real, but little plastic farmhouses for the ants..."

"The point is," Kirk rescued Sulu from his own stumbling, "The signs of civilization may have been placed here for the amusement of those predators. Like a castle in an aquarium or something like that."

Spock frowned, "That would seem to be a highly illogical use of time and energy, constructing the facade of an entire civilization simply for the... amusement... of primitive carnivores."

Doctor Marcus shared his frustration, but not his conclusion. "Until we know something about the intelligence that created this planet, we can't really assume anything. For all we know, it's a cosmic practical joke."

Doctor McCoy snorted, "Somebody out there's a got a hell of a sense of humor."

"In either case, that does not explain the presence of the caveman organisms," Spock said, "Or their relationship with the larger organisms, what the away teams have begun to call the Reavers."

"What relationship?" Kirk asked. This was news to him.

"They are genetically similar in most respects, in fact more similar to each other than humans are to chimpanzees. Furthermore, they are locally coincident and belong to the same social groupings."

Kirk stood up slowly, "Then the Reavers aren't hunting the cave men?"

"Based on observed behavior," Spock confirmed, "They seem to view one another as the same species, though the cavemen demonstrate a remarkably sedentary lifestyle. For confirmation we are still awaiting direct or indirect evidence of interbreeding between the two phenotypes. There is also Ensign Chekov's theory that the difference may simply be a matter of sexual dimorphism."

Doctor Marcus turned an accusing eye towards Chekov, sitting quietly behind Sulu, trying not to be noticed. "You think the Reavers are the female of the species, Ensign?"

"Uh... um... yes, Ma'am."

"Based on what?"

Chekov shrugged, "In my experience, Doctor, the female of most predator species tend to be larger and more aggressive."

Spock raised a brow, "That would seem to suggest genetic tampering with this species, whatever their original form. The mutation may depend on the influence of a Y-chromosome."

"Or a passive X-chromosome that became dominant somehow," McCoy said, "In some isolated populations, certain suppressed traits have a tendency to resurface. If those traits have an evolutionary advantage, they can actually overwhelm the dominant gene."

"Gentlemen," Kirk stood up, feeling the briefing beginning to derail, "This is all fine speculation, but what we lack here is information. There are that one basic question we're still no closer to answering."

"Indeed," Spock nodded, "The question of who manufactured this planet, and why."

"Most importantly, how," Marcus said, "at least, that's what the Federation Council wants to know. Needless to say, the ability to construct entire planets to a specific design is far beyond Federation technology."

"For now, though," Kirk said, "we need to narrow down our priorities, solve one or two problems at a time. This planet has enough mysteries to occupy Starfleet for generations, but they didn't send us here to solve all of them."

Spock nodded, "In fact, the specific priorities of our mission include an examination of whatever intelligence might remain on this planet, as well as a search for the intelligence responsible for its creation."

McCoy snarled from his spot in the center of the action, "And how do you propose we do that? Go down there and start asking the locals?"

Spock stared at McCoy, then almost as an afterthought back at Kirk, "I propose we should do exactly that, Captain."

"They don't seem very talkative to me, Spock."

"No, Sir, they don't. However," and he raised his voice to make sure the rest of the department heads could hear, "on the assumption that some remnant of intelligent life may still exist on this planet, it should be our priority to identify and preserve such intelligence for any clues as to the history of this world and its origins. A living specimen would be ideal, of course, but written or digital records would also be of value."

Kirk nodded, though he sensed something in Spock's voice that told him there was probably an away mission and a considerable amount of danger in the works some time in the next twenty four hours. "What's your plan, Spock?"

The Vulcan simply nodded, as if confirming that Kirk had guessed his intentions correctly. "Flyby scans of the Gaza Strip area show a relatively large population density of the caveman-type organisms co-mingling with a smaller group of active reavers..."

"All males, Sir," Chekov added, still partially hiding behind Sulu, "I checked the readings myself. No females of the caveman wariety."

"... which, if Chekov is correct, may indicate disproportionality in that particular population. If the changes are the result of viral influence or mass mutation, a pre-cataclysm population may still exist there."

Kirk scratched his chin, "I dunno, Spock, Gaza was a pretty rough place in the 1990s... in fact wasn't it known for having an extremely high population density?"

"In fact, it was known for having one of the highest population densities on the planet, coupled with perpetual guerilla combat against neighboring partisans and a proliferation of militant ideology. It is my belief that the high population density, coupled with the presence of armed reactionary elements and the availability of firearms may have delayed whatever fate consumed the rest of this world."

"That's a hell of a belief, Spock... almost a leap of faith."

Spock raised a brow, "Faith is illogical, Captain... however, in this case, it may be all we have left."

"I see." Kirk turned to the department heads gathered in the room, and as he did, saw the looks of dread spread across their faces, "I know how you all feel... I won't order anyone to go, but I will ask for volunteers. First team to find what we're looking for might just earn themselves a nice fat promotion."

The looks of dread faded a bit as various officers weighed the the risk of dismemberment by reavers - or having their heads bashed in by snarling ape-men-against the possibility of a jump in rank. The senior officers recognized this as an invitation to pass the offer on to the ambitious upstarts in their own departments, while the junior officers - including Chekov and Sulu - mulled it quietly in their own heads.

"All qualified volunteers should report to the Engineering Ready Room at eighteen hundred hours tomorrow," Spock announced, "Be advised, this will be a prolonged away mission deep in the heart of potentially hostile territory. A degree of danger is to be expected."

.

-1758 hours -

Sixty five men and women were waiting for Spock in the Ready Room by the deadline, an eclectic mix to be sure, from various departments all around the ship and all from different backgrounds. As a Starfleet tradition since the Second Romulan War, every single one of these officers and crewmen were required to be a jack of all trades and a master of one, and assigned to ship's departments according to that one speciality in which they were uniquely distinguished. To this end, Commander Spock quickly divided them up to have the specialties more or less evenly distributed. With twenty six security officers (and nine others with advanced combat training) he split the volunteers into thirteen groups; three on each shuttle as a security force, one additional officer with a science or engineering background as operations officer, and finally, one member of Doctor Marcus' survey team as section leader. Naturally, the Commander personally took command of the one team that lacked a third security officer, reasoning he could trust himself to do double-duty before any of his subordinates.

Mission planning went smoothly enough, considering the prevailing anxiety of the volunteers. The team leaders picked out twelve landing sites on the outskirts of the Gaza Strip, just outside the crumbling wall the Israeli Military had once erected to contain the strip's one and a half million restless inhabitants. Once the away teams made landfall, the shuttles would provide air support, scouting the urban terrain for possible leads or threats and - if necessary - provide defensive support if the locals got a little too frisky. Each team head its own search sector, and the method of searching each was their own responsibility.

"This," Spock reminded them as the planning session closed, "is to be a forensic examination of the region. Any artifact, any recording, any book, any painting, anything that could possibly have been created by an active civilization is to be considered evidence. Also required is DNA analysis of any locals encountered, microbial analysis of the soil and food supply, and catalogs of additional flora and fauna to compare against present Earth records. Your ultimate goal is to locate and contact any sapient life forms that may still survive in the area."

A series of nods circled the room. By now, most of the volunteers were either wearing or wrestling their way into field jackets and equipment packs for the flight to Other Earth.

"Any questions?" Spock asked.

No one replied, save Doctor McCoy from the seat closest to Spock and the rest of the team on which he had forced himself, "I don't suppose there's a reason you're planning this away mission like a military assault, Spock."

The Vulcan frowned. "If you prefer to think of it along those terms, Doctor, then your role as the analogous battlefield medic may be greatly appreciated. Otherwise, recognize that this mission plan is simply the most logical technique available to us."

"If you say so, Spock."

Twenty minutes later, Enterprise's shuttle bay thundered open behind a forcefield curtain. Artificial gravity was shut down, and one after another the twelve active shuttles drifted off their landing pads and maneuvered gracefully into open space. In standard orbit, Enterprise was in purely inertial flight, orbiting the planet only by its native momentum and the planet's gravity; once the shuttles were clear of Enterprise, their impulse engines powered up, and mass suddenly ceased to be a factor. Within minutes they slipped gently into the upper atmosphere, held aloft only by the action of a few thrusters and a subspace field that cheated both the laws of physics and the tyranny of gravity itself.

Shuttlecraft Fourteen was the first to arrive, making a low-altitude pass over the Mediterranean sea as the sun set behind it. Mission pilot Hikaru Sulu checked their position against Enterprise' sensor plot and raised altitude just as the coast became visible on the horizon. It hardly defied his expectations: drab, dreary, lifeless, a kind of desolation that was anything but magnificent. The cluster of ruins that had once been Other Earth's Gaza Strip looked more like a sprawling garbage heap than the remains of an urbanized refugee zone. Even "Real Earth" Gaza never looked like this; this planet was as alien as any other world they had visited on training missions and simulations alike.

"I have a visual on our landing site," Doctor Marcus said from the Ops station. Paradoxically, too, since technically Sulu was the Operations officer on this team. "Five kilometers due east, just behind that security wall."

"I'll make a low pass and scout our search area." He fired braking thrusters just before crossing the coast and then descended to just above one hundred meters, coasting on momentum alone. At some low velocity he didn't bother to specify, he set the sensors on full scan and swept the entire region below the shuttle, images and data relayed directly to Marcus' station.

"Wow..." was her first response, followed moments later by "Oh wow!"

"What do you see?"

"An anomaly."

Sulu glared at her, wondering of their illustrious science officer's penchant for cryptic remarks hadn't rubbed off.

"Suddenly I'm not so sure that cataclysm really happened centuries ago."

"What do you mean?"

"You see that?" Marcus pointed through the window, where in the fading light a few isolated flashes were becoming visible, like the twinkling of sand in the sunlight. "You know what that is?"

Sulu stared, but shook his head.

"Small arms fire."

"What, really?"

"If these people are using cordite - and I don't see why they wouldn't be - I don't see it staying viable in these conditions more than a few decades."

Sulu shrugged. "You never know. But it's something we ought to look out for, don't you think?"

"I suppose so."

The landing site was up ahead, clearly marked on the heads up display on the shuttle's canopy window. Sulu brought the ship in a slow descent towards it and started the landing lights in the passenger compartment for the away team to prepare for a potentially rough touchdown. "How long you think this will take?"

Marcus shrugged. "How long do we have?"

"We should setup the transporter modules as soon as we're down. Statistically speaking, ninety percent of all accidents on away missions occur in the first thirty minutes after beamdown."

"But we didn't beam down this time. What are the stats for shuttle missions?"

"You don't want to know."

"That's reassuring." She watched him work the controls for a moment and the corresponding movements of the shuttle as it descended towards pale dust. Deep down she secretly admired him for being able to maneuver this craft so gracefully; in her college days she almost had a heart attack just learning how to pilot a conventional aeroshuttle, and these heavy shuttles were three times that size.

Fitting, now that she thought about it, since the starship that contained them was one of the largest that Starfleet had ever put into space. With a crew of nearly seven hundred hundred and an arsenal of the best equipment and technology Earth science had ever developed, the Enterprise wasn't a starship as much as it was a self-propelled flying city. Just this one ship could do the work of any five starships of any other class, no matter what that work entailed. Brand new ship with a brand new crew and a brand new Captain fresh out of the academy... "You know," Marcus brought it up now that she had a spare moment and no one of consequence within earshot, "When I came to the Enterprise I was told I'd be working under Admiral Pike. It gave me a bit of confidence, you know? Thinking that whatever else happened, we'd have someone watching over us with a proven record, someone we could count on."

"Things change," Sulu said offhandedly, burying the pain inherent in that comment, "If it hadn't been for your father, Pike would still be in charge of the Enterprise right now."

"If it hadn't been for my father, I never would have needed to come aboard the Enterprise."

"Fair enough. Though much as I hate to admit it, he might have been onto something, what with the war and all."

Marcus suddenly looked alarmed, "What war? The Klingons?"

"You haven't heard, I take it?" Sulu sighed, "The Andorians invaded Coridan two days ago. They've announced they're going to annex the north and south polar regions and part of that densely populated southwest island continent that I can't remember the name of."

Marcus looked incredulous, "Isn't Coridan a Federation world? Why would they do that?"

"They can do whatever they want as long as it doesn't violate the express will of the Federation Council. And Coridan isn't a Federation world, technically it was under the protection of the Vulcan government."

"And it isn't anymore?"

Sulu looked slightly annoyed, but cultivated his patience. "There is no Vulcan government, not anymore. And even if there was, the Federation hasn't recognized New Vulcan as a member yet."

"So the Andorians are just stepping into a power vacuum?"

"Something like that. Actually, lots of different people have been fighting over Coridan for a hundred years, this is just the latest chapter in that whole saga." Sulu slapped the controls and cut landing thrusters, more abruptly than might have been safe. The shuttle dropped the last five feet or so to the ground, slamming on its landing skids for the hydraulics to bear the brunt of it.

Doctor Marcus gripped the arms of her chair in an instant of panic, but Sulu went on as if nothing had happened, "The Telarites and the Bolians will probably get involved to protect their own mining interests. If we're lucky, they'll just race to annex any ore-bearing parts of the planet the Andorians haven't claimed yet and draw a line in the sand."

"And if we're not lucky?"

"They'll send their fleet to try and drive the Andorians out, and we'll have a war on our hands."

Marcus smiled, "It's good to know our rookie Captain has such competent people under his command. All the same, though, I'd still feel more confident with an experienced commander on the bridge."

"With all we've been through together, you still consider him inexperienced?" Sulu asked without looking up from his monitors, finishing the post-flight powerdown.

"Just saying. I'd feel better knowing the man responsible for keeping me alive actually knew what he was doing, right? I mean, apart from all that unpleasantness with Khan-"

"We've explored beyond the edge of the galaxy, stopped an invasion of blastoneuron parasites, prevented a full-scale war with the Romulans, intercepted a full-scale Gorn invasion and prevented the extinction of an entire species. I think the Captain's picked up a pretty long resume by now."

Marcus squinted at him, "What about his failures?"

"Those were the failures. And not just his, all of ours. We're able to do our jobs because Captain Kirk is an excellent commander and a proven leader. And after some of the things we've seen the last couple of years, I think good leadership is something Starfleet could use a lot more of."

"If you say so."

"I do say so." Sulu unclipped his restraints and ducked into the passenger compartment, joined Buckley and Kruzman in unloading equipment from the cargo pod, "Tell you what. If Captain Kirk somehow fails to get us all killed, you have to have a drink with me when we get back to the ship."

Marcus smiled. "That sounds like a safe bet. You're on."

- 2250 hours -

"Alpha Team to Enterprise, all mission teams have reached landing sites. We are beginning search phase one."

Lieutenant Uhura answered, "Acknowledged, Alpha Team. We'll monitor your progress from here." This, of course, was the understatement of the day. Almost the entire bridge had been geared to support the ground effort; the engineering stations had been converted to mission control for the shuttles, along with the twin ops stations in the rear of the room that now displayed vital sign tracking of all sixty seven members of the landing party. The main viewer was ablaze with a real-time map of the Gaza Strip along with sixty seven transponder beacons, plus the locators for the thirteen shuttles and the half dozen aerial probes dropped in ahead of time to help the group coordinate their efforts.

Kirk watched the transponder signals begin to fan out, encroaching slowly into the strip in three-man formations: two security men armed with phaser rifles and one officer with a tricorder and a field kit. His main interest was on Spock's team, the command group for the entire mission and-by design-covering the most densely populated region of the Strip.

Tying in his own intercom, Kirk asked, "Alpha team, we've gotten reports from other units about small arms fire within the strip..."

"I confirm, Captain," Spock replied, "Gunfire appears sporadic, isolated pockets of activity. Indications are, its activity peaked some three hours ago and is now declining in intensity."

Kirk raised a brow, "You mean the shooting just started?"

"Sensors showed no evidence of gunfire when we surveyed this area a week ago."

"Then whatever's happening now wasn't happening when we got here."

"Correct, Captain. Aerial surveillance is attempting to identify the gunmen, but so far we are unable to pinpoint their exact location. Tricorders have been set to scan for cordite, and we are continuing the search on foot."

"Right. I want regular reports every six hours. Enterprise out." Kirk closed the channel to the away team, then tapped the page on his chair to the tactical section, "Phaser room."

"Tomlinson here."

"Mister Tomlinson, set your number two phaser bank to a strong stun setting, planetary bombardment mode. Just incase the away teams need some extra support."

"You'll have it in five minutes, Captain."

"Kirk out."

"Multiple life forms conwerging on Charlie Team, Keptin," Chekov was reading it off his control panel, but the same was vaguely discernible on the viewscreen.

"Any danger?" Kirk asked.

"Hard to say, Sir, but there is another group of life forms moving ahead of them, passing Charlie Team now. The first group may be pursuing them."

"Advise Charlie Team to stay clear and continue their search. Meanwhile, continue scans of the planet surface for any signs of active technology or power signatures. Maybe somebody's still got a ham radio or something."

"Aye, Keptin..."

"Captain... I'm picking up a radiation surge on sensors," Ensign Rodriguez, the acting science officer in Spock's absence, reported from the starboard science station, "It's in high orbit, bearing one nine eight mark fourteen."

"I have it, Keptin," Chekov reported a heartbeat later, "Readings show an unknown wessel has appeared at sublight speed, moving into standard orbit."

This was all happening too fast. An away mission this size was already taxing Enterprise's logistical limits, let alone the unwanted surprise of an uninvited guest. "Go to yellow alert, standby battlestations."

A number of things on the Enterprise suddenly changed, even at a relatively low alert condition. The yellow alert condition prompted all nine of the ship's phaser banks to power up to standby mode, with gun crews and operators checking their power cells and swapping out any units whose reports were even slightly out of spec. The coolant lines for the main deflector screen were opened all the way, and the capacitors for the forcefield generators were charged to maximum capacity. Though not quite at battle stations, Enterprise was now in a condition where the full force of its power and technology could be redirected in a matter of seconds to the singular task of engaging and destroying a hostile force; not prepared for a fight, but prepared to block if someone should take a swing.

After several tense minutes, Chekov reported, "The alien wessel has entered standard orbit, Keptin. Inclination forty eight degrees, apogee of two thousand kilometers."

"Uhura, lock in on the alien ship, standard greeting and friendship messages."

"Aye sir."

"No intersect in our orbits," Chekov went on, "he may not be aware of us, Sir."

"Or he may not be interested, which is just as good... either way, keep an eye on the alien ship, I want to know the moment it blinks in our direction."

"Yes, Sir."

"No response yet from the other ship," Uhura said, "Should I continue hailing?"

Kirk nodded, "Two minute intervals, standard linguicode. And alternate friendship messages with a request for identification."

"Aye, Sir."

And turning back to his science officer he asked immediately, "Have they scanned us?"

"No, Sir, but at this range they don't really need to."

"Same for them. What do you make of it?"

Rodriguez plunged her face into the scrolling lights of the sensor scope, reading telescope and optical sensor data from the ship's medium-range sensor array. The library computer ran an analysis routine against its own memory banks even as Rodriguez ran one in her own head. Both came up with the same result, "Signatures are fully consistent with Gorn technology, but no previous record of this configuration. I show modular construction, between one hundred and three hundred thousand ton displacement. I can't get a solid reading on its defenses, but its emission spectrum suggests some type of phase-layered ferromagnetic material."

"Can you estimate armaments, Ensign?"

Rodriguez squinted at her monitors, "Very few fixed emplacements, but I'm detecting several remote combat vehicles with heavy armaments on board. Consistent with standard Gorn battle doctrine... except..."

"Except what?"

She looked up at the Captain and frowned, "That hull configuration is hardly optimal for combat, Sir. Structural density is low, plus a lot of surface features that look like very large hatches or doors or something of that nature. If I had to guess, I'd say this was an up-gunned freighter."

"Alien ship has dropped something into the atmosphere, Keptin!" Chekov sounded entirely too excited for what his monitors were showing him. Kirk kept his eyes on Rodriguez and waited for her sensors catch up.

"It looks like a reentry capsule," she reported immediately, "ballistic flight only... ablative heat shield... about twenty five tons... no life signs aboard."

"Heading?"

"Um..." she worked her console for a few moments before the results came back, "If it follows its present heading, it will land on the western shore of Alaska, close to the Aleutian Islands. No present danger to the away team."

"Must be Santa Claus making a delivery," Kirk nodded, appreciating for once the novelty of an alien race whose motives were not saturated with wrathful xenophobia. On the other hand, alot of the more noteworthy academy situations were based on the worst-case scenarios dreamed up by a generation of long-dead explorers. It was distressing to think he'd spent all those years preparing for things that would never happen, or failing to prepare for things that would. "Bailey, you and Chekov monitor that ship, be sure to give it a wide berth."

"Aye Captain."

"Aye, Keptin!" the two officers poured themselves into the helm console now, and suddenly their workstations became a galaxy of holographics as they began programming escape maneuvers for every possible action the alien ship might take.

Satisfied, Kirk turned to the opposite corner of the bridge, "Uhura, contact Alpha Team, tell them keep their eyes peeled for any Gorn presence on the surface."

"Yes, Sir, but... isn't the alien capsule heading for the other side of the planet?"

Kirk smiled, "They've seen us, and they know we've seen them. If they're smart, they'll monitor our landing party as closely as possible without initiating contact."

That seemed like merely a wild guess, but Uhura followed the order anyway.

"Speaking of which," turning lastly to his science officer, "I want you to launch two standard probes, inertial guidance only. Put them in a Molniya orbit with maximum dwell time over Alaska so we can cover that area at all times."

Rodriguez nodded and programmed the starboard probe bay. "Captain, at that altitude we won't get very detailed readings. We'll be able to track their movements, but..."

"That's all we need, Ensign. We're not out to spy on them, this is just a precaution."

"Aye, sir..."

Three minutes later, the launch hatches on the side of the "neck" of the ship irised open, each releasing a Starfleet observation probe into space, port and starboard. Both probes accelerated away from the ship under the drive of micr-fusion thrusters, ponderously slow without the benefit of space-denting subspace fields, but quickly enough to cancel their angular velocity around the planet and launch into an extremely elliptical North-South orbit.

Thousands of kilometers away, the Gorn ship took note. Not that the commander on board had expected his counterpart to do otherwise, and like Kirk, it was a relief to discover commonality with an alien - but not overtly hostile - intelligence. With due caution, the Gorn commander waited until Enterprise was below the horizon, then released another teleport capsule, this time on a much flatter trajectory that would bounce off the atmosphere and back into space before again plunging to the ground below. It would take a few hours to arrive, but that trajectory was calculated to bring the second capsule to a landing site on the eastern shore of one of the planet's enclosed water reservoirs, just off the beach of what humans would call "Gaza City."