FIRE DRILL
Their collective memory spans billions of years, to a time when the Milky Way Galaxy was still a malformed globular cluster churning sloppily in the cosmos, slowly collapsing into itself in the cosmic dance that would one day stabilize into a natural spiral. They had been the first to understand the true nature of gravity, the secrets of space and subspace and hyperspace and quasi space. They had watched empires rise and fall on a million worlds, they had guided new species to prominence and quietly blotted others out of the book of life. They were timeless, eternal, immortal, all knowing and all powerful. Yet they were the humblest of all life forms produced in the universe, utterly powerless against even the most benign chemical changes, suffering and dying in radiation little more intense than moonlight.
Eons ago, in a star system that no longer exists, they had been microbes in the salty marshes of a dying world, eeking out a pathetic existence in pockets of life, nourished by chemical elements baked out of the mud by their sun's increasingly harsh radiation. By all other accounts they were an evolutionary cul de sac, never to develop into the kind of complex life that might build cities, roads, starships and colonies. And yet here, as on many other planets, the miracle of life spawned that rare miracle of intelligence, all the more amazing for the risks it took and the hurdles it overcame. It evolved, as intelligence often does, from the simplest forms of communication, the chemical signals used by bacterial colonies to indicate changes in salinity and temperature. As the signals became more complex over tens of millenia, so too did the mechanism of acting on them, until action itself became a form of communication, and the messages began to order themselves into patterns. Overlapping patterns spawned new patterns, and then the new patterns gave rise to orders and classes and relationships that had almost nothing to do with the simple genetic algorithms that spawned them until, after untold thousands of generations, the first vague twinkle of consciousness began to emerge: complexity slithered from the bacterial slime of almost perfect simplicity.
In terms of individual creatures, there were more Chameloids on Doppelgänger than there were stars in the galaxy. But unlike other beings who reveled in the illusion of self-continuity, the demarcation for an individual Chameloid was tricky, and sometimes totally arbitrary. While the number of life forms on the planet numbered in the millions of trillions, the fact was that only a single distinct entity existed here, a singular identity supreme to all others. It was also true that five thousand two hundred and forty identities existed on this world, all of them integral but vastly less intelligent subsets of the whole. Each of these multitudes was conscious and sentient, but fully conscious only of themselves and that which truly distinguished them from one another. They were aware of the Whole only in the vaguest sense, with a distant understanding that they were part of something larger and more powerful than themselves, something which they could not access but, in any case, had access to them. Presently, several of these beings felt the inexorable call of their master, they a part of it and it the entirety of them. Their orders were given as if it were their purpose to exist, as a mind gives an order to an arm, an arm to a hand, a hand to a finger. At these orders, a group of twenty organized themselves into an appropriate form and rose silently from the depths that had hidden them until now, first to the surface of Doppelgänger's dying oceans, then into the upper atmosphere as their power plant became fully alive.
The trouble was immediately evident. The skies were crowded with messy aliens, creatures confined to unmoving bodies, isolated from each other, part of nothing but themselves. Distinctly unlike "us," and yet similar enough that on some level of organization, common ground could be reached. They sensed that aboard one of the alien vessels, a single of their number had been made to do exactly that, breaking itself deliberately and carefully into fragments as small and as isolated as the rodents that had discovered them. Without a means to share their thoughts, there was no way to know if that effort had been successful, and yet scanner beams beyond even their comprehension had identified the problem.
Something new had been born. Something unplanned, something uncontrolled. It had been created by the rodents, probably accidentally, most likely in curiosity and an attempt to learn more. Like most newborns, this one was confused, hungry, and frightfully temperamental. It could be absorbed by the Scout if it came to that, but more likely it would continue to rampage until it matured, and then it would probably reject absorption in ignorance and fear and continue on its ravenous path in a slightly more organized but still unacceptably savage path. It would become a Hunter, a predator of the skies, feeding on the life blood of familiar life forms until someone or something was forced to destroy it.
Though the Chameloid cared little about such wayward offspring, it was always best to prevent this if it was ever possible. Absorption was the best option, as it would mean either the death of the newborn or its recreation in a less tragic form. Of course, the humanoids who inhabited the ship called 'Enterprise' would find the solution almost as perplexing as the problem itself... as if anyone cared about the desires of rodents.
Doppelgänger-B Orbit USS Enterprise (NCC-1701) Stardate 2261.28
- 1212 hours -
Doctor Ayash would never understand what was happening to him. Understanding would have required more time than remained in his abruptly terminated life, and the jumble of sensations he now experienced would only complicate the matters. His mind was still trying to process the shock of seeing The-Thing-Lieutenant-Onise-had-become physically envelop the examination table and most of the bulkhead next to it, as if melting the materials from body heat alone. When it stood, the table and the bulkhead had become a living, moving part of his body; the former parted and became an extra pair of legs, the latter straightened into a shaft protruding between what still almost resembled shoulder blades to form something like a scorpion's tale above a headless, throbbing torso. It wasn't even a creature as Ayash understood the concept, just an amorphous jumble of body parts and limbs, all of them specialized for something, but thrown together on a body in a state of such complete disorder that one wondered if it hadn't been dreamed into existence by a feverish toddler.
He had two seconds to try to process this image before one of those highly-specialized limbs snapped out from the headless torso and impaled him through the chest. It instantly tore his heart in half, and then a set of spiny mandibles attached to that limb opened in his chest cavity, the arm parted down the middle, and Doctor Ayash was torn in half like a wet napkin, upper and lower torso tossed to opposite sides of the room. Just as quickly as it had killed him, the creature slithered through the ruined isolation lab until it reached Ayash's shattered torso, knelt down over the remains, then formed a mouth from a convenient orifice between two of its legs and scooped the remains whole. It paused for a moment, digesting the carcass, and then seconds later seemed to collapse in on itself until it took on a new form. This one more organized, more natural; man-shaped, but not quite human, almost apelike in build and stature. And still headless at that: where there should have been a neck, there was a only a large gasping maw lined with crooked white teeth, opening and closing reflexively.
Doctor Marcus watched this with a fascinated horror and a touch of disbelief, like watching a mountain lion eating a bear. She understood instantly that whatever Lieutenant Onise had become had suddenly panicked when its form had been disrupted, that it killed Doctor Ayash in order to obtain DNA information on what it was supposed to look like. It was just as evident that the new creature hadn't been very careful in assimilating that DNA, it had accomplished only a gross and undetailed approximation based on what it assumed were the most relevant features. Relevance, in this case, was a horrifying epiphany: apart from its enormous muscle mass, the only other "correct" features it had copied was that weird toothy maw in the neck hole and a complicated bulb on its stomach that, unless Carol's imagination had gone haywire, appeared to be a set of extremely exaggerated genitals.
Miri's horror was anything but fascinated, and laced with fury. It wasn't only that she'd gone out of her way to warn everyone how dangerous the Reavers really were, but in their tinkering they had gone and created something far more dangerous, something more pure. The knowledge wasn't exactly her own, but on some level she understood that she was part of something that did understand, and that something - whatever it was - scorned Starfleet for bringing this thing into existence. And precisely as she expected, Miri saw a pair of beady globes open and close on its chest, just below that toothy maw, like a pair of eyes on an upside-down face. Those eyes fixed directly on her, and the creature began to stomp towards her, snapping its teeth in an unnerving mixture of hunger and lust.
Miri's phaser was still grasped in her hand. She shined the guide beam on the middle of its chest and fired, full disruptor force, at a distance of less than five feet. The creature flashed into flame where the beam hits its chest and it recoiled from her in agony. She fired again, this time at the waist, and the beam drilled right through it to tear a gash out of the wall behind it. It had had enough of this; in pain and terror, it bolted for the door and ran frantically down the corridor in no particular direction, simply seeking shelter from something it perceived as a source of pain.
But if Miri had her way, it would find no sanctuary on this ship. She ran after it, snapped open her communicator and toggled to the intercom directory for the Cave. Leaving in such a hurry, she no longer noticed or even cared about the three squatting mirages ducked down in the corridor and ran past them without a second thought. Nor did she notice those three barely-visible figures rush into the Isolation Lab after her departure, and last of all failed to notice the sounds of weapons fire from the lab and the brief, highly abbreviated screams of Doctor Marcus as a plasma rifle robbed her of consciousness.
"Peter, this is Admiral Miri! Call in the troops!"
"No kidding! Something in here smells like Reavers! Did one of them get loose?"
"One of the grups has been transformed. A male." Miri said, running down the corridor after it. It was moving quickly, but stopping just long enough to tear through the pressure doors that had closed when the ship went to yellow alert. Since it didn't know about turbolifts, Miri knew she would have no trouble keeping up with it. "Doctor Ayash triggered it somehow. It's looking for food and a breeding source."
"A breeding source?"
"Do you remember the Chcikenheads we fought on Cyprus?"
She heard Leila and Nabi say in unison, "It becomes what it eats."
"Exactly. Every time they kill someone, they turn into a weirdo version of that person. And then they split down the middle and copy themselves..."
Only Peter answered, "Who did it eat? Who does it look like?"
"Doctor Ayash. But it didn't transform all the way yet..." Miri paused momentarily, finding two security officers lying unconscious in the corridor. Both looked as if they'd been slammed into the walls, one with a badly broken arm and the other bleeding from the nose. They were alive, and from the looks of things they'd even managed to do some damage of their own. Miri followed a trail of dark red blood down the corridor to where the Reaver was right now in the process of tearing a pressure door off its hinges. It was doing so in a strange way. Its hands had somehow melded into the actual structure of the door, as if it was spreading its fingers in a wall of soft butter. Then a swift jerk of its arm pulled the entire pressure door off its frame, the Reaver folded the entire door up like a piece of cardboard and tossed it out of its path so it could continue running.
"This could be interesting..." Miri picked up both of the guard's phaser pistols and picked up her pursuit, "Get everyone together, get all the firepower you've got. Let's show all these grups how to do it right!"
- 1214 hours -
"All security teams mobilized!" Lieutenant Rand said on the intercom, "I'll do what I can, but all hell's breaking loose in that compartment, Jim!"
Kirk could see that from the security board. Spock's sensors had detected almost a dozen UV anomalies, mostly centered around the science labs and some of the library computer access ports. It was obvious that the Romulans were helping themselves to any information Enterprise could collect on Doppelgänger, and much less obvious that they had probably done a thorough inspection of every sensitive military device on the entire ship for intelligence purposes. Far from obvious was just what the hell was happening in the isolation lab, with computer reports of a totally unknown life form followed by failure reports as something crashed through a series of pressure doors in Compartment 106. Whatever it was, it was headed for the core module in the very center of the saucer, and had evidently moved up three decks to make a beeline for the communications center below the bridge.
Too much was happening too quickly and with too many unknown factors to take into account. No wonder the Klingons were staying out of this. "Security teams in place in Compartment 106, decks two through five," Sulu reported, "Additional alien life form reported on Deck Four! It's a Reaver, Sir! A big one!"
"It's headed for the communications center," Spock added, monitoring the pursuit on his console, "Security Team Four is in the nearest defensive position. Contact in five seconds..."
"Phaser fire in Compartment 212," Sulu said, "UV anomalies and... wait... now reading plasma weapons! And a life form!"
Spock added, "I read it as Vulcanoid, Captain. Probably an additional Romulan infiltration team."
Kirk pounded his fists on his command chair, "We need more security... where the hell are Rand's people?"
"Security teams moving into position near Compartments 212 and 307. Additional Romulan presence detected in Compartment 308, near the starboard impulse engine. They may be attempting to reach the engineering module."
"Send an ad-" then Kirk thought better of it. The Romulans almost certainly had some kind of plan for how to escape the Enterprise if they were discovered, and were probably instructed to commit suicide rather than allow themselves to be captured alive. If they thought they could get to the engineering section, then their next actions might be wholly predictable. They could be contained, maybe even dealt with, as long as they were routed through a pre-determined path into an ambush... "Spock, assuming they're headed for the engine room, what would be the best manual route?"
"The ladder-way dorsel access, forward frame. They would enter the engineering section just aft of the fuel lab. Although, Captain, I suspect the Romulans may attempt to leave the Enterprise using our own airlocks as an egress point. Probably Airlock Three via deck twelve."
Kirk nodded, "Seal up their suits and jump overboard. Once they're outside our screens, their ship can beam them back."
Spock nodded, "Yes, Captain. However, the possibility of sabotage to our engine systems remains a factor..."
"True that," Kirk punched the intercom for the engine room, "Scotty, incase you haven't heard, we've got ourselves some uninvited guests on board..."
The answer was filled with static, a voice in the distance through a cloud of white noise so thick Kirk could barely make out Scotty's voice, "Aye, Sir! I've got a jammer operating incase the bloody Romulans planted a noisemaker! Keenser's got a team checking the plumbing now!"
"A miracle worker, that's what he is. This might just work..." he punched the intercom again, this time for Rand's communicator, "Status report, Ensign!"
"All teams moving into position, Captain. We've secured compartment 307, but it looks like the Romulans are barricading themselves in sections 212 and 310. I can't imagine what for, it's not like they can go anywhere."
"Let 'em go, Rand. I want a clear a path for them into Airlock Three, that's their most likely exit plan. Hopefully we can force them off the ship with a minimal fight. Meanwhile, divert two fire teams to deal with that Reaver before it does more damage than it already has."
"Captain, I request manual environmental control through the security board. It'll be easier to encourage their movements if I can decompress compromised sections."
Kirk shouted, "DeCasta!"
"Security override engaged," the environmental officer reported, "It's all yours, Ensign."
- 1221 hours -
"This is the bridge! Intruder alert! All personnel, evacuate decks four through seven, sections 209 through 212. Repeat: all personnel, evacuate decks four through six, sections 209 through 212!"
Miri heard the announcement, but from what she could remember of the Enterprise's arrangement on the fly she was nowhere near those sections. The "two hundreds" were in the second ring from the middle of the saucer and everything above "oh eight" was on the port side of the ship. Presently she was passing through an intersection with a label in one corner reading, "D4-C105," meaning "Deck Four, Compartment 105." She knew exactly where she was now, because she remembered that this compartment was close to the Communications Resource center where Ensign Ayala and fifty other linguists were still busily processing and categorizing the thousands of gigabytes of audio, video and sensor data gathered from the away mission three weeks ago. Somewhere in that communications center, Ensign Ayala was still fuming over the lack of a working transtator array in the library computer board, and that was probably the Reaver's destination after all.
Over a year ago, the Onlies overheard some radio messages that mentioned that there were very few females on the island of Cyprus and that the place was overrun with caveman-types (and therefore, presumably, a much safer place to be). When a month later they landed there to see for themselves, they were greeted by a group of bizzare creatures that looked like a pack of six-foot chickens, pecking at shipping containers trying to get cockroaches. When those creatures discovered the Onlies, they turned vicious in an instant; a dozen of them cornered Big John (the second oldest boy in the group, one who had a crush on Miri ever since Gideon died) and ripped him to pieces, eating the flesh in large chunks without seeming to even chew. In short order all twelve of the creatures transformed into duplicate images of their victim, wearing the same clothes he was wearing, and two of them even talked like him, though the other ten didn't have anything intelligent to say other than garbled threats and curses.
Miri wondered if the thing that attacked Ensign Ayala a few days ago really was the transformed Lieutenant, or just a clever chickenhead that beamed aboard the ship in his place. Either way, she knew exactly how to fight these things. All of the Onlies did, and one check of her communicator confirmed that they were all in the right position. "It's headed for the communications center. Where are you?"
Peter the Rabbit answered, "We're on Deck Seven, just outside Compartment 204. Ready for your call."
And Miri didn't even need to ask why they were where they were. Chickenheads always sought lower ground when startled, and moved instinctively towards the largest open spaces they could find. That meant that even if it got to Ayala before Miri did, it would be easier to drive it towards the lower decks, heading into the larger and less cluttered compartments where it could find more room to maneuver. And Peter the Rabbit must have figured out, somehow, that Ayala would probably head straight for her own quarters if she had to run for it. His position was perfect for both contingencies, and Iron Town had just the right architecture for it too.
Exactly how Peter could know any of this was something of a mystery. But Miri knew it too, and she knew it with enough certainty that she didn't bother wondering how or why.
She climbed a ladder and rounded a corner on her way to the communications center where, half an hour ago, Ensign Ayala had ordered her to retrieve that transtator array for the fourth time. There was no sign of the Chickenhead here, but it couldn't be far away. Somehow Miri could "smell" it moving nearby, like the scent of burning garbage carried on a non-existent breeze. It was down a corridor somewhere, waiting for something. It was changing somehow, but Miri couldn't tell into what. Nor could she tell how she was able to tell any of this just by the scent of it; for the first time, she was becoming aware that there was something else outside of her that was involved in this task, something that had an interest in seeing the Onlies succeed.
"God is with us," she said, taking comfort in the revelation, "God will provide."
The Communications Center looked like business as usual, except for the cloud of nervous energy hanging over everyone's heads and the half dozen security officers situated in flanking positions near the room's two exits. It wasn't a good look, the exits were far too close together. Miri made her way to Ayala's station and batted her on the shoulder, "Ensign, can you come with me please?'
Ayala spun in her chair in surprise, "Where have you been? Did you talk to Hobus?"
"We've got more important things to worry about."
"Yeah, I think we've been boarded. The security teams can handle that, though..."
Miri took one of the phaser pistols off her belt and handed it to Ayala. "No. No they can't."
"What are you talking about?"
"Trust me."
"What's going on?"
"Just trust me. You need to get out of here right now." Miri started for the opposite hatch, the one that opened to the starboard side closer to Iron Town. It would be preferable if they could make a calm retreat to where the Onlies were waiting for them, but it wasn't all that likely with a reaver chasing them. Ayala followed in an anxious stroll, feeling very much like she was being lead somewhere at gunpoint but without an actual gun pointed at her.
Just short of the hatch, Miri caught a powerful whiff of that burning garbage smell and turned to the other end of the communications center as another person entered the room. The reason for the smell was immediately obvious, as the figure of Doctor Ramsi Ayash locked its eyes directly on Ayala and started moving purposefully through the rows of computer stations to follow them.
Just like the other chickenheads. It would try camouflage first until someone tried to challenge it. "Come on. We don't have much time..."
"Ensign Ayala!" The imitation of Doctor Ayash shouted through the room, "I am needing a moment of your time, please..."
"Oh, right, my physical," Ayala turned from the door, feeling more than a little relieved to be involved with something other than Miri's creepy desperate errand.
"Ayala, don't!"
"I had a physical scheduled twenty minutes ago. I forgot to..."
Miri drew her phaser, snapped into the disruptor setting, and fired a single blast directly at Ayash's head. The phaser beam vaporized the top of his skull and almost knocked him over a computer console behind him. Almost. He caught his balance and stared at Miri in shock and surprise, until his more primal instincts reasserted themselves and the surprise gave way to rage. His disguise no longer valid, his form began to change; not completely away from Ayash's general outline, but more of a distorted monstrous version of him, as if he had swallowed Doctor Jekyl's fabled concoction.
The communications officers became a stampede of red-shirted cattle, flooding the exits in a disorganized panic that almost swept Miri along with it. "Iron Town! Now!" Miri grabbed Ayala by the arm and dragged her through the hatch before they were both trampled to death. For the moment they became part of the stampede, running down the corridor in no particular direction as the sound of phaser fire - probably from the security officers guarding the door - framed their retreat. From the sound of things, the phasers were on a strong stun setting; that would probably slow it down, buy them enough time to get closer to their destination. The nearest turbolift was just down the corridor from the comm center, but already a dozen of the fleeing officers had crammed into it and closed the doors behind them. "Keep going!" Miri said, and spun around in the corridor towards the now-distant hatchway.
"Going where?"
"Iron Town! Your quarters!"
"Why?"
Miri snatched the other phaser from Ayala, snapped it to the disruptor setting and pointed it at her head, "Because if you don't, I'll kill you and feed you to that thing!"
Ayala didn't have the wherewithal to wonder if Miri was serious. She sprinted down the corridor as fast as she could, catching her bearings just long enough to make sure she was heading in the right direction. It was still another hundred meters to the outer habitat ring, and without knowing anything about what was happening Ayala didn't want to risk not having enough time to make the dash.
Miri planted herself in the now-empty corridor next to the turbolift doors and thumbed a control to call the lift. It would be a few seconds longer than usual, what with the security alert and computer verifications and all. Which was just as well, because if the lift got there too early it would throw her timing all to hell. The sound of phaser fire from the communications section dwindled away, followed by screams and cries of alarm as the chickenhead - obviously unaffected by phaser stuns - pummeled a handful of them. The turbolift doors opened, then when no one entered, closed again; Miri swore silently and this time waited before calling another one.
It was taking longer than usual. It must be smarter than the ones on Cyprus, Miri realized, actually taking the time to assume new forms instead of just blindly rampaging through the ship looking for a host. She wondered for a moment if it was trying to impersonate one of the security officers... but then the hatch reopened, and globular pile of human flesh about the size of a buffalo stomped into the corridor. Miri couldn't make out an actual shape of the thing anymore - it wasn't using clearly defined arms or legs, just flailing powerful limbs propelling it by any surface they could reach - but from the look of things it had probably eaten three or four of the security officers and used them to replace damaged or stunned body parts.
So it was changing forms, but only to heal and grow stronger, and not to camouflage itself. It wasn't that much smarter than the Cyprus creatures after all. The plan would still work.
Miri punched the turbolift controls again, then aimed both phasers and fired at the thing, as close to its center of mass as possible. Twin shimmering beams of fire poured against the thing's skin like firehouses against a garbage bag, partially collapsing it and partially forcing it backwards. Huge chunks of the thing flashed into incandescence and floated into the air as a cloud of sash, but still the thing kept rushing forward with considerably effort, even as her last dual-phaser beam tore off a piece of it nearly three feet wide.
The turbolift opened. Miri ducked inside and pressed the manual controls, set the turbolift to deposit her at the next station in Compartment 204, one deck down. The way this thing was moving, it would catch up to her in less than a minute. Hopefully, Miri thought, she could extend that by another minute or two, depending on how well these two phasers held up...
- 1228 hours -
Lieutenant Rand watched the display on her tricorder screen, relayed from the ship's internal sensors, tracking the cluster of UV anomalies moving through the corridor on the other side of the hatch. Teams three and five were in the adjacent passageways perpendicular to the one the Romulans were in now, ready to unleash a barrage from their phaser rifles if the Romulans did not continue to move in the proper direction towards Compartment 309 and the vertical causeway to the engineering module. She watched them go, waited until exactly the right moment, then hit the controls to open the hatch and fired her rifle in a long, sweeping burst through the curving corridor, forcing several of the Romulans to flatten themselves against the circular walls to avoid her shots. Rand held the rifle over her head and kept the phaser pulses pouring out continuously, sweeping it back and forth like a garden hose as the other five security officers crouched low, advancing on the Romulans under her covering fire. The intruders could do little in this situation and in these close quarters, and they knew it. A few of those bright green phaser bolts tore pieces out of the corridor in a vain effort to discourage their pursuers, and then the last of the Romulans vanished behind the next pressure door, sealing the passage behind them.
Rand keyed her communicator again, "Security to bridge. Intruders have entered compartment 309, Deck Seven. Maintaining pursuit along pre-arranged path."
On the bridge, Uhura relayed the report to Commander Spock, who in turn collected the report into a mental picture of the situation and reported to his captain, "Intruders have entered the causeway, Captain, sealing hatches behind them. Confirming approximately fifteen individuals, seven of them moving downwards on the forward ladderway, the others covering their retreat."
"Uhura, evacuate Airlock Three," Kirk said, "have all security teams continue herding the Romulans there. I want those intruders off my ship!"
"I have a reading on the alien intruder on the starboard side," Spock added, "It is now moving at speed towards Compartment 204 amidst intermittent phaser fire. Security teams are having difficulty tracking its movements, but report they should have it cornered momentarily."
Kirk nodded, feeling the situation teetering on the brink of his control. On a starship with a crew of nearly a thousand, it shouldn't have been this difficult to neutralize an uninvited guest.
Uhura's voice boomed over the ship's intercom, "This is the bridge, all personnel evacuate compartments 105 and 204, decks five through eight. Repeat: all personnel, evacuate compartments 105 and 204, decks five through eight. Security teams secure both compartments..."
"Captain," Spock's attention was drawn away from the internal security monitors for a moment as something intense flared on the overhead screen. It was a celestial tracking display from the SADAR computer, really just an elaborate graph of virtual graviton paths from different directions through the Enterprise's gravitic sensors. "Sensor contact from the planet," and turning to the more precise sensor scopes he added, "There is a large body approaching from the direction of the planet. Possibly a vessel."
"The Gorn," Kirk said, scornfully. Their timing couldn't be worse.
"Mass reading is inconsistent with the Francium, Captain. I read a small craft, less than two thousand tons in mass, some one hundred meters in length. Unknown power, unknown configuration. Life form readings indeterminate."
"Then it's just another new contestant in this little treasure hunt. Great. Whoever they are, they're just gonna have to wait in line until things calm down." Another inquisitive alien was the last thing the Enterprise needed right now. And though on some level Kirk was a little concerned as to how another alien vessel could have arrived without being detected on the long range sensors, for the moment he had much more important matters on his mind. Not least of which was...
"Airlock Three is already opening, Keptin," Chekov said, reading his status display console, "The Romulans have their own thruster suits, it seems."
Spock confirmed those readings with his own scientific sensors, "Reading sixteen Romulans in thruster suits, unknown type. Six of them are cloaked, three are visible. Seven appear to be enclosed in some type of ballute-style lifepods."
Kirk could already picture them: large inflatable spheres just big enough for a man to sit in, containing little but a portable life support unit and a spigot for a very limited supply of fresh water. They were the starship's equivalent of an inflatable life raft, a device that could be deployed by a desperate crew-member in seconds instead of the five to ten minutes it would take to find and dress a space suit. "Probably using them to transport their wounded," Kirk decided, "And maybe any information they might have stolen from the Enterprise... either way, they'll be easier to deal with outside the Enterprise."
"Romulan contingent moving away from us under thruster power, towing the ballutes behind them," Spock added. Then he noticed something peculiar, something that didn't quite jive with his understanding of the Romulan methods or objectives. All seven of the ballutes contained discernible Vulcanoid lifesigns along with several kilograms of other materials that were probably pilfered Starfleet equipment and memory tapes. But one of the ballutes - towed through space by what was probably the ranking officer, judging by their formation - appeared to be completely empty, save for a small object that read like a Hesperian palmcomp, and an ultraviolet refraction consistent with a portable cloaking device. "Captain, the Romulans h-"
"Enemy wessel becoming wisible, Keptin!" Chekov shouted as the viewscreen image told the same. Shaped like a flying wing, the Romulan bird of prey was a flying dagger of hostility just under two hundred meters in length, painted black and jade green over most of the ship and the dark red outline of a giant alien bird painted on the underside of the hull. The ship was maybe a dozen kilometers away, too close for torpedoes. Too close for a Romulan warship. Closer than any hostile vessel should ever be.
Kirk immediately ordered, "Deflectors, full intensity! Lock phasers on tar-!" a tumbling rope of bright green flame whipped over the top of the saucer section, the first of what suddenly became a series concentrated plasma bolts from the Romulan's main batteries. At this range, it was hard for them to miss; nearly a dozen direct hits struck the shields in as many seconds, shaking the Enterprise slightly but not seeming to cause major damage.
"Phasers locked," Sulu reported.
"Fire at will. Impulse power, evasive Flanker Three Starboard. Spock, analysis of Romulan weapon..."
"Their ballutes, Captain!" Spock shouted to complete what had been interrupted by the Romulan attack, "The Romulans may have a hostage!"
"What?!"
"Multiple phaser hits, Keptin," Chekov reported, "Their forward shields are failing..."
"Transporter beams!" Spock looked up from his sensor scope with an urgent, almost emotional expression, "The intruders must have beamed aboard the Romulan vessel. They're taking evasive action, now moving towards... they've powered up their main drives!"
Framed in a thick barrage of phaser fire, the bird of prey glowed brightly for a moment and then exploded into a streak of white light, racing into the distance faster than even the sensors could follow. The Romulans had gone to warp, taking with it not just a treasure trove of military secrets, but a living prisoner for the Romulan intelligence services to interrogate.
"Pursuit course! Maximum warp!" Kirk ground his teeth; he'd allowed himself to become overwhelmed by the sudden confluence of disasters and hadn't considered all possibilities. The Romulans had outmaneuvered him completely, and to think one member of his crew might have been endangered by that mistake... "Security check on all personnel, find out exactly who's missing! Sulu, Chekov, I don't care how you do it, you find a way to get that ship out of warp!"
"We'll try Sir, but we do not know enough about Romulan wessels to-"
"No better time to find out! Get to it!"
"Aye, Keptin! Programming pursuit course!"
"Warp engines standing by," Sulu reported, then punched the intercom on his consoles, "All sections man battle stations! Standby for warp!"
- 1225 hours -
Ensign Ayala heard phaser fire behind her, then the tortured screams of whatever that nightmare was that was chasing after her. The next pressure door on the left opened into Iron Town, Compartment 304. The way that thing was moving she wondered if she would be safe even in her own quarters. Maybe if she crawled into a rescue pod and rolled into the closet it might not find her, or maybe...
She heard the sound of grinding metal behind her, and turned her head just enough to see the shape of something large and shaggy racing down the passage after her. It was barely keeping its form anymore, just a jumbled mass of limbs and jaws mated together with patches of seared flesh. There was no sign of Miri to keep the thing at bay now; the only thing between Ayala and Iron Town was that last pressure door, and she was now quite sure this thing was about to kill her within sight of her bedroom door.
The pressure door opened in front of her, almost miraculously, just before she would have crashed into it. Then it closed again just as quickly, though obviously less miraculously as Ayala turned her head and saw two of the children from Doppelgänger squatting down next to the door with Kalashnikov rifles, one of them still pounding the door control as if trying to make sure it closed all the way. Just as the pressure door closed completely, something massive crashed into it from the other side, knocking it completely off its tracks but not quite breaking it down. The two children guarding the door scurried off, but they were hardly alone. Twenty five Onlies, heavily armed, squatting behind sitting benches and the big stairway to the upper level, leaning over the balcony rails overhead in perfect firing positions. The spacious atrium of Compartment 204 had become a kill zone.
Ayala slowed down just long enough to take this all in, then sprinted for her quarters, her hands already grasping for the door handle a dozen meters away... then with a flash of light and an electronic pulse, she felt a blast of heat in her left hip, and an instant later she lost all feeling in her leg. She staggered and fell, crashing to her shoulder within a few meters of her own door, knowing but not understanding that someone had just shot her in the leg with a phaser on stun.
"I'm sorry, but you have to be conscious!" she heard Miri shout, and traced the voice to where the Ensign was kneeling on one leg at the top of the big stairway, fiddling with the settings on a phaser rifle. "It won't take you if you're unconscious."
"Then stun me so it'll leave me alone!"
"That won't work. It can't be killed while it's still liquid like this. It's too adaptable." As if to prove her point, the warped and barely-holding pressure door began to churn and melt, collapsing in on itself as something on the other side of it began to dissolve its structure, molecule by molecule. "When it takes your form, it'll be vulnerable for a few seconds. Once it knows it's been discovered, it'll transform itself into something stronger. That's the trick. You have to kill it before it can change forms again."
Ayala fought back tears. Not that she needed to be told, but it was worth the point to ask, "Then what happens to me?"
"It likes you for some reason."
"Miri, please!"
"I'm sorry, Ensign, but you grups brought this on yourselves."
The pressure door collapsed into a pile of disjointed chemicals. The writhing mass of limbs and mandibles clambered through, ridiculously flailed around the courtyard for a moment until it finally located its preferred quarry. And noticing nothing else, it closed the distance to Ayala almost before she could think to crawl away from it. It caught her by the back of the neck almost without slowing down, hoisted her almost ten feet into the air. Ayala screamed and cried, and the thing grabbed at her writhing form with as many limbs as it could bring to the task. She pleaded with it frantically, hysterically, then fell silent as the creature twisted her backwards and tore her in half at the waist. Then it broke her again into quarters and into eighths, separating legs from pelvis and arms from shoulders, arms from elbows, even hands from wrists. Then after neatly dismembering her into bits of manageable size, a dozen sets of jaws opened at once and swallowed the parts almost in a single action.
For a second or two, the creature seemed dormant, satiated, even delighted. Then its surface began to writhe and churn, the dead scorched parts of its body dropped away as it salvaged what little it needed to complete its transformation. In less time than it took to claim its last victim, it arranged the thickest part of itself into humanoid form, and a part of its shaggy skin took on a dark red color and became a uniform tunic. The spitting image of the late Ensign Ayala stood up slowly in the midst of a pile of dead flesh.
She seemed confused for a moment, regarded her surroundings in puzzlement. She patted her left leg to find it was not - as she remembered - paralyzed, and looked around for any sign of the creature that she vividly remembered was about to eat her alive. Then she remembered Miri, and the Onlies laying in ambush around the courtyard. Confusion turned to anger and frustration laced with anxiety, "Miri, what happened? Where did it go?"
Miri shouted at the top of her lungs, "Set!"
Twenty four children shouted back, "Set!"
And Miri gave the order, "Fire!"