Chapter 4 – Part Two – Special Occasions
Captain Bateson regarded the humanoid Shi'ar obliquely, obviously somewhere along the line they had avian ancestry, yet he could not take his eyes off her – she was stunning! "Can I get you another drink Your Majesty? Perhaps you would like something alcoholic?"
"I find non-intoxicating drinks best in first contact situations captain," she gently admonished, watching his look of disappointment, deciding that maybe she ought to keep her erstwhile saviour happy - "perhaps we could do that another time?" She suggested licking her lips, realising immediately afterwards that it had looked rather suggestive.
Forced begrudgingly to accept her logic decided to change topic.
"Tell me more about the Shi'ar Empire."
He disliked the sound of Empire it always conjured up ideas of conquering armies, slavery, brutal murders and who knows what else? Yet his guest radiated such charm, and sex appeal he was finding it difficult to remain professional. Perhaps she has some kind of pheromones? These thoughts were quickly quashed when he realised it had been almost seventy years since he'd got any female action – chronologically at least. Subjectively at least a couple of years and the allure of an alien female….her scent, her beauty, now he was getting like Kirk…..taking a deep breath he decided that if a Vulcan could fight off the effects of Pon Farr he could do his best to 'keep it in his pants.'
"It's not as bad as it sounds, really," she said reassuring. "We've hit some rough times as the Chitauri have recently invaded our sector of space. We were here near the edge of the Milky Way trying to locate where their nearest armada," she paused.
Trying to consciously control the fear she felt –that they had been ambushed as the Chitauri had de-cloaked and fired without their sensors knowing. The thought of so many dead angered her, greatly. Among the survivors the thirst and desire for revenge was great – hers included. When they found their home world she would personally see every male, female and child put slowly to death. Then the planet would be destroyed, their fleets stripped for spare parts, and any survivors forced to watch the whole tawdry affair. Until the hated enemy was dead there would be no peace – not while Chitauri still breathed. Then they would destroy the hated Skrulls. While the Formidable's engineers were busy helping in the repairs of her ship, other Shi'ar vessels were busy scouting Federation territory, ascertaining their strengths and weaknesses. Perhaps they could expand their territories there?
"We believe they are still nearby but we cannot detect them"
"What kind of species is the Chitauri – just so the Federation knows if or when we encounter them?"
Unable to prevent gulping at the thought of another alien fleet being nearby decided to put his tea down. What the Federation needed was intelligence. He paid very careful notice to her response, watching for any known signs of deception. It wasn't just one action or gesture that would scream "I'm lying through my teeth," good liars were far more astute having mastered most telltale signs. It was the whole package, perhaps half a dozen gestures that might give the game away. Curious – it was almost as though she's trying to decide how much to reveal.
"Well Captain they are a species capable to changing their shape. They are quite skilled at it"
This immediately brought a jolt of fear, controlling it immediately realised that this was more a game of chess they were indulging in, where keeping your cool was essential. "We've encountered the Founders who are able to do just that in the Gamma Quadrant, but I doubt they are related somehow"
"What makes you so sure?"
"The Founders aren't too fond of what they call 'solids,'"
"Really," she answered genuinely intrigued. "What happened?"
"Went to war, we won and they lost. That's the short version." He smiled. "But any information you are willing to share on the Chitauri would be welcome"
"Of course, perhaps you would be willing to share information on the Founders?"
"I had assumed an exchange of information would be required"
"You read people very well"
"I don't know about that," he admitted coyly, now on his guard, certainly not about to fall victim to flattery or some other means to get on his good side. Maybe that was his pragmatic nature again? "Perhaps I could show you around the ship?"
An orange beam speared through the gloom and darkness to strike the standing ensign full on the in chest, she didn't even try to avoid or dodge. Set on full stun it propelled her over her station, to impact the floor landing in a tangle of limbs – where she lay, unconscious. He breathed a sigh of relief as he tried to get the Griffon operational. They weren't out of the woods yet. Surprisingly it had survived a glancing blow from the enemy's largest guns, albeit barely. Blood ran freely down his head leaving a strong metallic taste on his lips. Triple layer shielding worked then! If it didn't there would likely have been nothing left of the Griffon. Continuing to work on the console he was greeted by lights returning, so instead of everything being dark he got see what he was crashing into – all in all he was not sure which was better.
Turning the ship hard to port they swung away from the fifteen mile long alien ship, a quick glance confirmed that both Captain and First Officer remained unconscious, as did both Ensigns, the Bynar, although the Kzinti was slowly rising. The Bridge or what was left of it was a complete mess, supporting beams had collapsed, gaps could be seen in conduits; some were even big enough to place your whole arm in – putting anything organic in plasma conduits would be unpleasant.
"You okay?"
"I feel like someone just dropped the roof on my head," he uttered staggering to the nearest console for support. "I'll alert medical to send staff down to see to the wounded. Can you fly it?"
"For a while can't fly and do tactical at the same time although though. Warp drives are non-functional. We have full impulse and I'm attempting to use the sun as a shield," watching out of the corner of his eye as the huge orange Kzinti began to sway unsteadily, forced to sit down abruptly before his legs gave way.
"Don't feel too good," he whispered. "I need to just lie down for one minute." Then he went slack sprawled across two stations.
"Great, just great, I guess it's just me then?"
No doubt other sections were trying to cope as best they could, it might be short while until they got clear. Continuing their current course towards the sun at three quarter impulse, he hoped to gain enough time while repairs took place, maybe they might make out of here yet?
The turbolift opened within a minute as relief officers poured out to much needed help on the bridge. He just hoped they didn't fire again anytime soon. The sun got closer and closer until they swung around the other side, intensely careful to avoid any slingshot manoeuvres.
Luckily the alien ship seemed to have no intent on pursuit.
Ten hours later repairs were well underway, both Captain and First Officer had returned to active duties, still sore, nursing more than a few injuries that would take several days to fully repair.
"They really did a number on us!"
"Relax Commander, we're alive and faced down another enemy"
"At what cost though, sir?" He regarded the Vulcan out the corner of his eye. "We've got dozens dead, hundreds more injured and the ship's a wreck, again"
He placed a hand on the Commander's shoulder, "Remember, we are alive and will live to fight another day. We also got valuable intelligence. How we join the dots is the big question"
"True," replied, turning to face his CO, "Something still doesn't feel right"
"What is intriguing is what happened to both Ensigns wasn't just confined to the bridge, it happened all across the ship. We're still at a loss to explain it"
"Really?" he said puzzled. "I was not aware of that"
"It appears my thick Vulcan skull gave me more protection that I first thought," he answered wryly.
Back on Betazed the was sun is shinning high in the sky again as Arayta sips her drink, this time it is not alcoholic, her head already hurts too much from yesterday. Having decided that chilled water would be better had ordered a large jug of it from the replicator. Mulling over what had tipped the scales to give her such a humongous hangover was hard pressed to decide if it had been the wine, the vodka shots with the neighbours. Finally deciding that the Saurian brandy had been the nail in the coffin of a pain free day sat back and drank her water in peace.
Her husband seems oblivious to her pain, having seen such overindulgence many a time. Nowadays she suspected he just tuned her out. Situated deep within the bowels of the house he is busy learning to play the violin, his thoughtful nature ensured the room was more or less soundproofed to prevent it from disturbing her day. The Federation was such a utopia nowadays it was hard to find things to do. Although the invasion by the extragalactic aliens had taken its toll, they were now well on their way to recovery – or at least that was her opinion.
In the basement Markus was putting on his black uniform, having used the computer to generate some truly ear splittingly bad violin playing, guaranteed to ensure she didn't decide to come down and investigate, at least not while nursing a hangover. They were back and it was time, to borrow an old 20th Century phrase, 'to put the band back together'. His dark hair was swept to right, which when combined with his dark tanned skin created an image of perfect health. He smiled. Since well before the Third World War he'd had a plethora of lovers, wives, not all had been female, and his wife was by no means the last. He tapped the coordinates on to the console opening a conduit to an alternate universe, what had once laughingly been called 'Project Entry,' waiting patiently for the conduit to open, as it did so he stepped through.
Deep within the Nevada desert, where once had laid a US military base, subject to the utmost secrecy, while paradoxically, and, at the same time public knowledge, it had conducted some of the most highly classified experiments on planet Earth. Now it stood as a testament to a long dead age, as forsaken as the desert in which it stood, miles beneath the earth, all of the relics within gathering dust. Within a wooden crate on whose sides the emblem of the United States had once been tattooed, sported dual burn marks – but they had been there almost as long as it had resided within the dusty confines - untouched for over four centuries. Further down that same warehouse lay other items, once of deep significance or intrinsic value, were also covered with dust.
Most were blanketed with intricate webs and on those silken threads spiders walked with very little to eat other than others of their own kind. Even mice and rats no longer called it home. One such ring shaped object was covered with tarpaulin, underneath it began to rotate. The movements caused a slight breeze that grew gradually stronger until the protective membrane was discarded, falling to the floor. It circled faster, and faster, at each point one of the symbols on the side lit up, and seemed to engage a form of clamp. Ten seconds later a geyser of what seemed to resemble water rushed out from the object, disintegrating all within its path.
Nine foot tall organic armour stepped through from their point into the whirling miasma arriving on this side of the wormhole, striding confidently scattering flotsam across the floor as they went ignorant or uncaring of many of the objects. Walking through the structure, towards a nearby lift shaft, the cable having long since snapped, and at the bottom lay the lift, broken and useless. They stepped onto the rusted metal which broke easily beneath clawed feet. The suits began to levitate leaving the ground behind, rising towards the higher floors. At the top the two clawed humanoid hands pulled the doors apart, not bothering to duck its ample frame, shattering the decaying concrete on impact – entering the corridor. Despite there being no internal lighting of any kind, it mattered not to the beings within those suits. They continued obliviously down another corridor, until they were faced with doors supposedly able to withstand nuclear bombardment. Twin crimson beams soon made short work of them and within minutes they were free.
Earth Station McKinley was a hive of activity. Having the Federation government and Academy shift from Alpha Centauri to here had been the only real alternative unfortunately neither were likely to be relocated elsewhere anytime soon. So they'd be forced to move their ship building facilities further out towards Saturn and Jupiter away from all the interstellar traffic which had been slowing down and disrupting performance. Docked there was one was the new Frontier class which in essence was a much longer Galaxy class frame, but with a shorter neck – one that was no longer designed for saucer separation. Sitting in the Captain's chair was David Valentine, waiting to get underway again. Running a hand through his long dark hair looked expectantly at his First Officer, Karen Peters who nodded.
He felt an excitement that had been absent for a good many years, a feeling of elation and happiness at returning to their true function – exploration. "Sound the alarm for the detachment of all umbilicals and walkways. We're about to undertake our next mission, to travel beyond the galaxy," there was a verve, not just on the bridge but all across the ship, the atmosphere was electric. They would continue where Kirk had left off, hopefully making it possible for space stations to be built between two galaxies, a halfway house. But their job was to make the way safe first, find safe places to begin building.
Verash Merak, the bird headed Taheen Science Officer tapped his console, "Sir we're picking up heavy neutrino and chroniton particles from an old…wait a minute….it appears to be an old US military bunker"
Events were conspiring against them! He tapped controls on his chair, "Location?"
"White Sands, Nevada, but there is no record of such a place used by the US military"
He smiled lopsidedly, "Trust me Commander there is let me assure you of that. It just wasn't a well kept secret documented secret"
"Didn't they used to call it Area… something or other?" Inquired Merak his beak hanging slightly ajar – lost in thought. He couldn't quite remember the last bit although it was on the tip of his tongue.
"Area 51. According to some of the history I've read they used an old Boeing 747 to fly the workers in and out daily"
"I saw one of those in a museum once," Karen remarked.
The feeling of dread was overwhelming; it felt like someone was dancing on his grave. "Back to the task at hand though people," stated the Captain archly, unable to hide his anxious expression.
"A couple of organic lifeforms have departed and are busy making their way to the surface," stated Merak rubbing a claw against his beak in a remarkably similar gesture to humans rubbing their chins, "It doesn't appear too safe down there. I recommend we meet them topside"
"Can we get a lock on them?" Val queried watching as the avian shook his head, "I agree," he confirmed, "Commander's Verak and Peter's take an Away Team composed of marines in full combat gear, and let's see just what the hell is going on"
"Yes sir," they chimed in unison making their way to the turbolift.
The Captain looked at the Klingon Chief of Security, "Alert one of your best teams we're going to need their expertise"
"But sir I should," he never finished his sentence as the Captain beckoned silence.
"Normally I would agree but if one of those ships arrives I'll need your considerable experience at tactical far more"
Feeling pacified by the Captain's logic, "Yes Captain"