EAD - Star Trek (Reboot) AU: Space Traders (PG)
In honor of Evil Author Day, I’m posting some of my WIPs and not-quite-abandoned drafts. Yes, I know Evil Author Day was actually yesterday, but I missed it. So I’m doing it today instead.
Star Trek (Reboot) AU: Space Traders (PG)
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This is based on the following plot bunny ( full details):
In a different time, James T. Kirk wasn't in the bar that night, and he didn't join Starfleet.
Instead, at the tender age of 12, he ran away from his abusive stepfather and absent mother, managed to stow away aboard a cargo ship leaving Earth, and spent the next 13 years of his life working as crew aboard various independent cargo and Trader ships. It's a hard life, especially since his age alone puts him on the wrong side of the law - when someone is already breaking the law just by hiring you, there's a strong risk that there are other laws that they won't balk at breaking. But even here, his famous luck is with him and he survives and thrives.
At 25, he is the captain and owner of his own small (by Starfleet standards, anyway) freighter. He's mostly a legitimate trader, but he's not above a little scavenging or crime when necessary (Sort of the Startrek version of Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly). On that fateful day, he's docked at the Vulcan Spaceport, engaging in legitimate trade, thank-you-very-much. Vulcans are just as susceptible to luxury imports as any other humanoid species.
When everything goes to hell in a hand basket, he jettisons his cargo and takes on as many Vulcans as he can carry - randomly beaming them off the planet's surface in groups, targeting the largest gatherings of lifeforms within reach of his equipment. He's not the only one to do so, but his is the largest non-Starfleet ship in Port, so he takes on nearly a 3000 refugees - which is about five times the limit that his ship is comfortably rated for, even if nearly half of them are children (children would be gathered in groups for learning, plus, humans instinctively desire to protect children - given the choice between a school and a government building, for example, most humans would naturally choose the school first for rescue efforts). Still, he doesn't need to get them far, just out of range of the gravity well caused by the black hole, and then - one of the Starfleet's big warships has survived and should be willing to take on enough refugees to ease his life support systems, if he can catch their attention before they leave in pursuit of the terrorist that just crushed a planet like so much dust under their feet. And if not - well, the Vulcan system has several planets and moons which are inhospitable but technically capable of supporting humanoid life: one even has a Starfleet outpost.
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Space Traders AU
Jim had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling. Which was why he was sitting on his bridge personally monitoring both the official and unofficial space channels. The scanning and unscrambling programs he was using may have been…possibly illegal, but they had saved his bacon many times in the past.
The Price of Survival wasn’t even supposed to be here - they were fully loaded and had been scheduled to break atmo in the wee hours of the morning, local time. But then there had been some sort of weird weather patterns, possibly caused by an outside force, and all civilian ships had been grounded in preparation for Starfleet’s arrival. Word was they were sending seven Constitution Class ships fresh out of spacedock to assist with the problem - a definite benefit of being a Founding member of Federation.
So, here he was, with a full ship and an antsy crew, listening to the space-chatter and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach.
And then it happened, all at once, so quickly that it was practically over before it had even begun. The sudden warnings, collision alerts, and weapons’ impacts - the death cries of the huge Federation warships. Seven ships, gone, just like that. What the fuck could do something like that? Those things were tough and well-armed - even a single warship was a formidable foe. But to take on seven of them, and win? It defied comprehension.
This was bad. This was very bad. He wanted the fuck off of this planet and out of this system before his ship and his people got caught in the crossfire.
“Red Alert, Red Alert, all hands to emergency stations, all hands to emergency stations. Prepare to break atmo.”
He switched from the all-ship broadcast to the engineering channel.
“Scotty, we might need to blow the Docking Clamp and override the Port Authority comp-lock, can you do it?”
“Aye, Cap’n, we can do it. It’ll take few minutes, though.”
“Alright. We’re going to want to go to Warp as soon as we can after breaking atmo, are we ready to go?”
“Aye Cap’n, just give the word. I got everything tidied away earlier. Engineering out.”
As he had been speaking with Scotty, his bridge crew had rushed in and taken their stations, in various states of undress. Under normal circumstances, there was a dress code of sorts for on-duty personnel, but that was hardly important in an emergency situation - he was far more concerned with his crews’ skills than with their appearance.
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“Hail them.” He was probably imagining things, but Jim could already sense the difference in the air, as the Life Support Systems struggled to cope with the fact that the ship was now packed from tip to stern with Vulcans. Cargo holds, personal quarters, hallways, even the bridge. Far more than his freighter was rated for and it was already taking its toll.
Not that he begrudged it - how could he? Any life that could be snatched from the jaws of death was a victory, especially given the magnitude of the tragedy that had just occurred. An entire planet - destroyed. It was beyond comprehension, so he didn’t even bother trying. There would be time enough later for that, right now he had over 2000 souls to take care of.
Two thousand stunned, grieving souls whose world had just literally been ripped from beneath their feet. Vulcans were supposed to be touch telepaths, unable to project or receive without actual physical contact, but right now, he could practically feel the crushing burden of their sorrow and pain. That mental scream when the planet had imploded…well, it was something that he never wanted to experience again. He had almost passed out from it, and his Betazoid communications officer actually had. Neisheen was back at work now, thanks to a quick stim shot, but the event had obviously had a profound effect on him. Thank goodness his pilot and navigator both had low ESPer ratings - otherwise, they might never have made it out of the gravity well in time.
They had made it out, though, and were now taking stock of the situation. Miraculously, one of the Federation Starships had actually survived the massacre - the Enterprise. But she was already heading out toward the edges of the system, probably getting ready to drop into Warp and pursue the enemy.