Alone in the Light, Part 1
Title: Alone in the Light, Part 1
Author:
j_green_teeth
Universe/Series: reboot
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3768 of ~41,000
Warnings: Minor/OC Character Death, discussion of Suicide (highlight to view complete warnings)
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, implied Scotty/Uhura, OC/OC, ensemble, Many OCs
When they had set off a year ago Jim had known intellectually that a starship Captain was responsible for the lives and deaths of everyone under their command. Now he understood what that meant. Tonight it meant reviewing the scanty mission report they had put together on the disastrous away mission to Kumba 6-4. 'Dead men tell no tales,' he thought morosely before starting in.
Kumba 6-4 is a natural satellite of the sixth planet orbiting the yellow star, Kumba. It has breathable atmosphere, gravity of 1.1 Gs and a human habitable temperature variance.All mission times relative to stardate 2259.167 09:58:17 SGT.0:00:00Away team beams down to planet. Team includes - Lieutenant Zaile Quing as leader, Ensign Robert Nigel, Ensign Monmoth, Ensign Filipe Juana, Ensign Preston Harper, Lieutenant Annie Mendleson and Ensign Able Swanson.0:00:00 - 0:05:43Initial visual survey for threats completed. No threats on visual inspection. No harmful chemicals, radiation, flora or fauna detected on scanners. (Initial threat assessment: addendum 9)0:05:44 - 0:13:88Team set up and calibrates transport boosters. No problems registered by ship crew or away team. (Conditions requiring use of boosters: addendum 10).0:13:89 - 0:15:03Lieutenant Quing advises away team to split up. Team 1 (Lieutenant Mendleson, Ensign Juana and Ensign Harper) heads east-south-east (41.57.58,115.4) to collect soil samples. Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing, Ensigns Nigel, Monmoth and Swanson) heads north (41.57.58, 358) to collect plant samples and do a visual inspection of the terrain from higher ground. (audio log: addendum 5.1)0:58:72 - 1:03:45Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing) checks in with ship. Reports steady progress to higher ground. No threatening flora or fauna. (audio log: addendum 5.2)1:03:55 - 1:10:12Teams 1 (Lieutenant Mendleson) reports on soil collection. Team investigates stream. (audio log: addendum 5.3)1:58:99 - 2:04:05Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing) team achieves high ground 3.2 kilometer from beam down location. Report flora and fauna becoming more plentiful farther away from the beam down site. (audio log: addendum 5.4)2:04:15 - 2:12:58Team 1 (Lieutenant Mendleson) reports team has followed stream towards its source. Team 1 also reports more flora and fauna away from the beam-down site. (audio log: addendum 5.5)2:24:23 - 2:26:00Team1 (Lieutenant Mendleson) reports siting of large lizard-like creature. Ensign Juana conjectures they are carnivorous based on jaw and body structure. Lieutenant Mendleson directs her team to return to beam-down site. Lieutenant Mendleson advises Team 2 to do the same. Captain orders radio check-in every 15 minutes. (audio log: addendum 5.6)2:26:01 - 2:27:03Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing) copies acknowledging orders to return to beam-down site and 15 minute check-ins. (audio log: addendum 5.7)
Jim remembers the agonizing silence on the bridge. Everyone speaking in hushed tones waiting for their people to check in again.
2:41:01 - 2:41:25Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing) reports increased motion in the vegetation. Team 2 moving back toward the beam down site in haste. (audio log: addendum 5.8)2:41:40 - 2:42:01Team 1 (Lieutenant Mendleson) also reports increase movement along with faint ground tremors. Team moving back towards the beam-down site in haste. (audio log: addendum 5.9)2:48:54 - 3:03:34Team (Lieutenant Mendleson) reports that the team is under attack. The report halts and there are several screams, the bellow of an unidentified animal and the phaser fire. Communicator remains active until 6:03:00 but no other intelligible sounds are recorded. (transcript: addendum 5.10)3:03:59 - 3:04:24Enterprise bridge Science Officer on duty (Commander Spock) reports that sensors indicate fewer human life signs on Kumba 6-4. Commander Spock infers that Lieutenant Mendleson, Ensign Juana and Ensign Harper are no longer alive. (Discussion of the accuracy of sensor life sign reading on Kumba 6-4: addendum 6.1- 6.4).
Jim remembers clenching his fingers white on the arms of the Captain's chair. He couldn't justify sending any more people down without more information. The tense silence on the bridge had let him know that everyone else was thinking the same thing.
In his quarters he rubbed his hand over his face and went back to reading.
3:05:51 - 3:06:32Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing) is hailed. Ensign Nigel responds and reports that the indigenous lizard creatures have caught and killed Lieutenant Quing and Ensign Monmoth. (audio log: addendum 5.11)3:18:59 - 3:19:13Request from Ensign Swanson for emergency beam-out. Ensign Swanson's signal located within the transport boosters. (audio log: addendum 5.12)3:19:18Emergency beam-out initiated.3:19:20Error reported in transporter system Alpha 1's matrix. Destabilization of matrix results in partial wipe of transporter buffer leading to Ensign Swanson's fatal partially rematerialization. (Transporter error log: addendum 7)(Autopsy results: addendum 8).
Seven went down and the only one who came back up was a melted, half-formed mess of blood and viscera. Jim shuddered.
3:18:00, 3:33:00, 3:48:00, 4:03:00, 4:18:00, 4:33:00, 4:48:00, 5:03:00, 5:18:00, 5:33:00, 5:48:00, 6:03:00All away team communicators are hailed at fifteen-minute intervals by the Communications Officer on duty, Lieutenant Uhura, relieved by Ensign Himshe at 5:02:37. (audio log: addendum 5.13 - 5.25)
Jim had communications stop after the sixth hour. Spock and Chekov were both sure that there were no humans still alive on the planet's surface. Jim activated his terminal and dictated his portion of the report.
“Commanding officer's note: Kumba 6-4 is still a potential planet for colonization. I recommend that further scouting missions are undertaken with guns, big fucking guns.” Jim sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Computer, delete that last remark. I recommend that further scouting missions utilizes a shuttle flyover and any ground personnel be equipped with large animal gear.”
He stared at the wall for an endless minute. “Lieutenant Mendleson, Lieutenant Quing, Ensign Harper, Ensign Juana, Ensign Monmoth, and Ensign Nigel are all missing presumed dead. No autopsies have been performed as no bodies were recovered. Ensign Swanson is dead, official cause is transporter malfunction. All personnel records have been updated to reflect that away team members died in the line of duty. I will be recommending posthumous commendations for each.” There wasn't much more he could say in his official report. “Report complete, apply Captain's seal, route for approval from department heads including Communications, Science, Security and Medical.”
The next several pieces of paperwork in his queue were form letters from the ship's legal staff. They contained anything he as the Captain needed to know about the recently deceased crew members’ last will and testaments. Ensign Harper and Lieutenant Quing had wanted their ashes dispersed into space. The rest had wanted their ashes returned to a family member, friend or religious official. An empty urn would be sent to each. All had requested a shipboard funeral to be performed by the Captain. Jim didn't think he had ever seen a personnel file for someone who hadn't requested one. It was the first and easiest question on Starfleet's sobering in-the-event-of-your-death paperwork. Jim remembered filing his own together with Bones. There had been alcohol involved. It was after the Narada attack, after they knew he wasn't going to be chucked out of Starfleet for his impressive list of crimes committed to save humanity, but before they knew he was going to be Captain. Of course there had been alcohol. They both checked the box for an on-ship memorial service. Jim had chosen to have his ashes scattered in whatever part of space he kicked the bucket. Bones had wanted his ashes sent to his daughter and another drink.
Jim looked at the first name on the list. Ensign Swanson had requested the generic remembrance ceremony. He pulled up Able Swanson's personnel file. He listed his next of kin was a brother on Earth colony Nicus 2. He had bounced around specializations at the Academy before settling on security. He had been on a training mission on Agles Fro during the Narada attack. He had requested assignment to the Enterprise after graduation. Lieutenant Commander Vick's reviews suggested that he was an adequate but not outstanding officer. A short list of away missions ended with the one to Kumba 6-4.
Jim sighed and moved on to Lieutenant Annie Mendleson's file. She had requested a Pan Solar end ceremony. He would have to ask Lieutenant Uhura to pull the right audio files for that. Lieutenant Mendleson had a husband assigned to the USS Albert Lee who had been planning to transfer to the Enterprise as a junior science officer specializing in botany. The picture in her profile was a face he remembered passing in the hall, with rosy cheeks and a wicked smile.
Grimly Jim set to working making notes for the next of kin letter. It had taken him two hours to compose his first one. Now it took him fifteen minutes. It wasn't any easier but he had gotten better at distilling his grief for another lost member of his crew.
He was on the fifth letter when his door chimed. “Come.” The door opened to reveal his First Officer, good friend and resident tight ass, Spock. “Come on in.”
“Captain, I see you have already begun your paperwork.” Spock took two steps in and stood, posture perfect.
Jim shrugged. “They deserve it.” Spock nodded his understanding. Jim continued. “I want Scotty looking at the transporters and Chekov working on the scanners.”
“Lieutenant Alvez's report suggests that the transporter malfunction was due to a quantum pulse shorting the matrix.” Spock sounded as reasonable as always.
“Good.” Jim picked up then dropped a stylus on his desk. “That will give Scotty a place to start.”
“Several authorities on the technology believe quantum pulses are impossible to detect or to compensate for.” A year ago Jim would have taken the comment as censure. Somewhere along the line he had learned that Spock was just managing expectations.
Jim had never gotten anywhere by aiming low. “Which is why Scotty is my Chief Engineer, not an ‘authority’. That man has made the impossible into reality more times than I can count.”
“Twelve,” Spock stated dryly. Jim gave him a filthy look. “I can cite twelve occasions in the past year when his accomplishments have been precluded by accepted theories of reality.”
“I want him working on the transporters. If it they worked better today I wouldn't be writing seven fucking letters.” He still would have been writing six but even one less would have made a difference.
“Understood.” Spock glanced down then back at him. “May I help you with the letters?” Jim understood why Spock was hesitant to ask. That first death Spock had asked if Jim would be completing the required paperwork, or if he would prefer Spock did it. Jim had still been shocked at Yeoman Smith’s messy death. He had screamed at Spock on the bridge that the Yeoman was his responsibility, not Spock’s. Another in an embarrassing number of wildly inappropriate arguments on the bridge. There were less of those now. Jim was learning not to hoard his failures so jealously.
“Do you think you could do Ensign Monmoth’s? I don’t know squat about Lurrisian sub-sects. I don’t want to imply anything about cross-dressing or the sun eel collapsing its bicycle.”
Spock’s lips twitched a little. He was probably remembering that particular failure of the universal translator.
“I have enough knowledge to draft a suitable letter.”
Jim gestured to the second chair by the desk. Spock gracefully folded into it and activated the second terminal. They set to work in a comfortable silence.
Jim looked at the stack of PADDs his yeoman had dropped off and rubbed his hands together. He was looking forward to this, and since this was paperwork that was saying something. The paperwork in question was the final arrangements for the social events for the next two months. Kumba 6-4 was in the ass-end of nowhere. Even Mars X thought Kumba 6-4 was in the sticks, so to get anywhere interesting was a long haul. Two months and a few days travel would get them to Federation Ground Base 4 on the planet Plix.
Plix was a populous planet and Ground Base 4 was a large installation. The native Plixi were humanoid with a complex set of frills and fins on their heads and backs. They had taken natural order and beauty and made them the foundations of their society. Their society was structured around these precepts. Even the planetary emblem was a stylized Mandelbrot set. Because of its hierarchical nature and scientific exploration, joining Starfleet was considered a respectable career for those Plixi who wanted to see the galaxy. So many young Plixi wanted to see the galaxy that Ground Base 4 included a Starfleet academy. Like all the off-world academies it had seen a surge of recruits in the past year and a half. One of the main reasons the Enterprise was en route there was to add some of those recruits to the crew and let some crew transfer. Of the fifteen transfers, ten were to other ships, six of those for promotions, four for other reasons. The other five had requested ground postings. So between transfers and a depleted crew they would be picking up forty-eight new crew members. Jim had already reviewed the potential personnel files and made his recommendations.
After Plix they were slated for a month-and-a-half patrol of the neutral zone. Tensions with the Romulans had always been high but now they were stratospheric. Since there was nothing even remotely interesting between here and Ground Base 4 (well, there was one Starfleet outpost, but it was tiny and too far out of the way to be bothered with), Doctor Evans, the one man psychology department of the ship, had recommended some structured activities to keep the crew anchored and stimulated. Jim had snorted at the phrasing. On Earth, when you were cooped up with people through the winter, you would get cabin fever. In space you got space-crazy. Different names for being so bored gnawing off your own leg seemed like a good idea. Frankly, Jim knew his crew was crazy enough already. He had proof that they were all just one alien spore short of bat shit insane. So, ‘structured activities,’ full speed ahead.
Jim started down the list. Biweekly movie night would become weekly. Five teams had signed up for the football tournament. Jim made a mental note to pester Sulu, his team captain, about their team name, ‘All your balls are belong to us’. They had arranged a round robin tournament with two games a week for five weeks. Lieutenant Kresch was putting together a scavenger hunt. The art gallery was opening next week. Jim took a moment to wallow in a smug glow at the talent of his crew. Fourteen different crew members had works on display. There were also going to be several concerts. Beyond that several smaller events had been planned, such as lectures. Jim signed the form with an enthusiastic flick before affixing his electronic seal.
As he sat back he reflected that the crew could do with some cheering up anyway. The last of the funerals from the Kumba 6-4 away mission had been held yesterday. In a crew of under four hundred people, losing seven was a big thing. Everyone had lost a friend, a co-worker, a rival or a familiar face. Lieutenant Mendleson’s funeral had been the day after her death as custom dictated. The other six had been yesterday, ending with half of the crew in the mess hall for Juana’s ‘proper Irish wake’. Jim would bet Bones had treated more than a few hangovers this morning.
Both Jim and Dr. Evans were hoping this mess of cultural and social activities would brighten the bleak atmosphere on the ship.
~*~*~*~
Jim was just waiting for Starfleet to redesign the uniforms again. They seemed to do it every couple of years and he was convinced a redesign could only make things better. The current predilection for Command gold and high collars put him solidly on the worst-dressed list of starship captains. The dress uniform he was wearing now was even more of a fashion disaster then the standard uniform. The collar was higher and gold trim on the gold shirt just looked silly. He ran a finger around his neck, tugging at the collar. He felt strangled but Ensign Singh had wanted the gallery opening to be an occasion and had asked everyone to come in formal wear.
Ensign Singh had outdone himself. The first room of the gallery had two holo sculptures and five holo works arranged on the three open walls. Most of the art for the exhibit was 2D or 3D holos but a few of the artists had the supplies to create physical works. Instead of a single large room the rest of the pieces were displayed in a series of switchback hallways. All the walls had been painted black to allow for greater contrast with the artwork. Thin lines of red, blue and gold had been added to break up the black. For the opening a few high tables had been added to hold champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres. All in all it looked classy.
Jim abandoned his tugging to grab a drink. It was sparkling grape juice. Oh, well. He wandered over to where Scotty was standing examining an impressionistic seascape. “Hi, Scotty.”
“Cap’n,” Scotty acknowledged but didn’t look toward him. “It’s a nice picture isn’t it? Yeoman Sun has been boastin' for the past week that his painting was out here in front.” Jim hummed. “He’s pretty proud of this one.”
“It follows the forms of impressionism well.” Spock had snuck up behind them.
Jim turned to greet him. “Hi, Spock.”
“Commander.” Scotty was still focused on the holo.
“I think the display matrix might be faulty in the upper-left quadrant,” Spock said.
Scotty nodded. “I was just looking at that.” The three of them stared at the painting for a few seconds. Jim caught the shift of colors that Spock and Scotty must have noticed.
There was the click of heels and a subtle scent of jasmine. Uhura leaned over Scotty’s shoulder and wrinkled her forehead. “What’s so fascinating?”
“Holo matrix glitch.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t see it.”
Scotty’s hand skimmed over the holo. “There’s a color change here.”
She scrunched her nose. “Nope.” She shook her head. “I’ve always been better with things I can hear than things I can see.”
“I just need to pull this panel and check the coil alignment.” Scotty worked as he talked, oblivious to Jim's eye roll and Uhura’s fond smile.
Spock stepped away to speak with one of the anthropology ensigns. Scotty, face in the panel, continued, “That reminds me. Dr. Evans told me to do my talk about transporters first; said it would reassure people.”
Jim shrugged. “I guess I’ll have more time to think up questions for ‘The Wonderful World of Warp drives'. How about you Uhura, got all your stuff together?”
“Of course. Although there hasn’t been much interest in the seminar on scent-based communication. We may switch it out for another session of basic Andorian.”
The seascape flickered for a second, long enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room to Scotty’s fiddling. Scotty didn’t seem to notice as he snapped the panel shut. “Fixed.” He turned and slipped his arm around Uhura’s waist.
Ensign Singh tapped his glass to get everyone’s attention. He gave a short speech about the pieces and the artists before encouraging them to enjoy the art and reminding them that the pieces would be on display for the next three months.
Spock was still talking to the Ensign, so Jim had lost his chance to monopolize Spock’s attention for the evening. Uhura and Scotty were examining an abstract piece across the room. With no one to talk to Jim started to work his way towards the back of the gallery. The circular collage of photos from Stabler’s Folly was neat. It captured the saturated tones of the green sky and amber cities. The small sculpture in the first corner had some indefinable air of motion as the human figure pulled itself out of the metal scraps. Jim lingered in front of a large holo. It was two-dimensional, relying on shade and curve to imply features. Jim felt as if there were a hundred faces looking back at him out of it. Then he blinked and the holo was nothing more than scattered dark patches on a lighter background. He had just found the name Elizabeth Daws on a small plaque next to the holo when a Lieutenant came up to him. It was another of the anthropology team. “Hello, Captain.”
“Lieutenant Umba,” he replied with an automatic polite smile.
She glanced at the holo. “Intellectually I know that the human mind in hardwired to find faces, but ever since I saw this piece I can’t help but feel it's watching me.”
Jim took another look. Again the faces appeared and disappeared. “It’s rather haunting.”
“Mark my words, Captain, it will follow you into your dreams.”
Jim manfully resisted the reflexive, 'Maybe you can come by and make sure I have sweet dreams.' He didn’t flirt with his crew, well, except Spock. Lieutenant Umba's calculating expression made Jim think she wouldn't be impressed by it anyway. Instead he asked, “So do you know the artist?”
“Elizabeth.” She shook her head lazily. “Only in passing. I helped set up so I saw everything early.”
There was a pregnant pause. Jim finally broke it by asking, “So what’s your favorite piece?”
She looked one more time at the holo and frowned. “The moving mural Lieutenant Commander Muntz did. It's at the end of the last hall, if you like, I’ll show you.”
They had a stilted conversation about the different pieces until Jim begged off, claiming paperwork. Really he just wanted to get out of his dress uniform.
Whether it was because the painting was that creepy or it was the Lieutenant’s suggestion, he did dream of the faces in the painting that night. His subconscious filled in the details. First the faces of Mendleson, Harper and Quing emerged from the paint then bled away to show Monmoth, Smith, Olson, and Paine. The faces continued to swell and ebb, Juana, Uuuos, Grez, Harrington, Ice Heart, Nigel, Bloom, Ricky. He did not rest well.
Next: Part 2
Author:
j_green_teeth
Universe/Series: reboot
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 3768 of ~41,000
Warnings: Minor/OC Character Death, discussion of Suicide (highlight to view complete warnings)
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, implied Scotty/Uhura, OC/OC, ensemble, Many OCs
When they had set off a year ago Jim had known intellectually that a starship Captain was responsible for the lives and deaths of everyone under their command. Now he understood what that meant. Tonight it meant reviewing the scanty mission report they had put together on the disastrous away mission to Kumba 6-4. 'Dead men tell no tales,' he thought morosely before starting in.
Kumba 6-4 is a natural satellite of the sixth planet orbiting the yellow star, Kumba. It has breathable atmosphere, gravity of 1.1 Gs and a human habitable temperature variance.All mission times relative to stardate 2259.167 09:58:17 SGT.0:00:00Away team beams down to planet. Team includes - Lieutenant Zaile Quing as leader, Ensign Robert Nigel, Ensign Monmoth, Ensign Filipe Juana, Ensign Preston Harper, Lieutenant Annie Mendleson and Ensign Able Swanson.0:00:00 - 0:05:43Initial visual survey for threats completed. No threats on visual inspection. No harmful chemicals, radiation, flora or fauna detected on scanners. (Initial threat assessment: addendum 9)0:05:44 - 0:13:88Team set up and calibrates transport boosters. No problems registered by ship crew or away team. (Conditions requiring use of boosters: addendum 10).0:13:89 - 0:15:03Lieutenant Quing advises away team to split up. Team 1 (Lieutenant Mendleson, Ensign Juana and Ensign Harper) heads east-south-east (41.57.58,115.4) to collect soil samples. Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing, Ensigns Nigel, Monmoth and Swanson) heads north (41.57.58, 358) to collect plant samples and do a visual inspection of the terrain from higher ground. (audio log: addendum 5.1)0:58:72 - 1:03:45Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing) checks in with ship. Reports steady progress to higher ground. No threatening flora or fauna. (audio log: addendum 5.2)1:03:55 - 1:10:12Teams 1 (Lieutenant Mendleson) reports on soil collection. Team investigates stream. (audio log: addendum 5.3)1:58:99 - 2:04:05Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing) team achieves high ground 3.2 kilometer from beam down location. Report flora and fauna becoming more plentiful farther away from the beam down site. (audio log: addendum 5.4)2:04:15 - 2:12:58Team 1 (Lieutenant Mendleson) reports team has followed stream towards its source. Team 1 also reports more flora and fauna away from the beam-down site. (audio log: addendum 5.5)2:24:23 - 2:26:00Team1 (Lieutenant Mendleson) reports siting of large lizard-like creature. Ensign Juana conjectures they are carnivorous based on jaw and body structure. Lieutenant Mendleson directs her team to return to beam-down site. Lieutenant Mendleson advises Team 2 to do the same. Captain orders radio check-in every 15 minutes. (audio log: addendum 5.6)2:26:01 - 2:27:03Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing) copies acknowledging orders to return to beam-down site and 15 minute check-ins. (audio log: addendum 5.7)
Jim remembers the agonizing silence on the bridge. Everyone speaking in hushed tones waiting for their people to check in again.
2:41:01 - 2:41:25Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing) reports increased motion in the vegetation. Team 2 moving back toward the beam down site in haste. (audio log: addendum 5.8)2:41:40 - 2:42:01Team 1 (Lieutenant Mendleson) also reports increase movement along with faint ground tremors. Team moving back towards the beam-down site in haste. (audio log: addendum 5.9)2:48:54 - 3:03:34Team (Lieutenant Mendleson) reports that the team is under attack. The report halts and there are several screams, the bellow of an unidentified animal and the phaser fire. Communicator remains active until 6:03:00 but no other intelligible sounds are recorded. (transcript: addendum 5.10)3:03:59 - 3:04:24Enterprise bridge Science Officer on duty (Commander Spock) reports that sensors indicate fewer human life signs on Kumba 6-4. Commander Spock infers that Lieutenant Mendleson, Ensign Juana and Ensign Harper are no longer alive. (Discussion of the accuracy of sensor life sign reading on Kumba 6-4: addendum 6.1- 6.4).
Jim remembers clenching his fingers white on the arms of the Captain's chair. He couldn't justify sending any more people down without more information. The tense silence on the bridge had let him know that everyone else was thinking the same thing.
In his quarters he rubbed his hand over his face and went back to reading.
3:05:51 - 3:06:32Team 2 (Lieutenant Quing) is hailed. Ensign Nigel responds and reports that the indigenous lizard creatures have caught and killed Lieutenant Quing and Ensign Monmoth. (audio log: addendum 5.11)3:18:59 - 3:19:13Request from Ensign Swanson for emergency beam-out. Ensign Swanson's signal located within the transport boosters. (audio log: addendum 5.12)3:19:18Emergency beam-out initiated.3:19:20Error reported in transporter system Alpha 1's matrix. Destabilization of matrix results in partial wipe of transporter buffer leading to Ensign Swanson's fatal partially rematerialization. (Transporter error log: addendum 7)(Autopsy results: addendum 8).
Seven went down and the only one who came back up was a melted, half-formed mess of blood and viscera. Jim shuddered.
3:18:00, 3:33:00, 3:48:00, 4:03:00, 4:18:00, 4:33:00, 4:48:00, 5:03:00, 5:18:00, 5:33:00, 5:48:00, 6:03:00All away team communicators are hailed at fifteen-minute intervals by the Communications Officer on duty, Lieutenant Uhura, relieved by Ensign Himshe at 5:02:37. (audio log: addendum 5.13 - 5.25)
Jim had communications stop after the sixth hour. Spock and Chekov were both sure that there were no humans still alive on the planet's surface. Jim activated his terminal and dictated his portion of the report.
“Commanding officer's note: Kumba 6-4 is still a potential planet for colonization. I recommend that further scouting missions are undertaken with guns, big fucking guns.” Jim sighed and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Computer, delete that last remark. I recommend that further scouting missions utilizes a shuttle flyover and any ground personnel be equipped with large animal gear.”
He stared at the wall for an endless minute. “Lieutenant Mendleson, Lieutenant Quing, Ensign Harper, Ensign Juana, Ensign Monmoth, and Ensign Nigel are all missing presumed dead. No autopsies have been performed as no bodies were recovered. Ensign Swanson is dead, official cause is transporter malfunction. All personnel records have been updated to reflect that away team members died in the line of duty. I will be recommending posthumous commendations for each.” There wasn't much more he could say in his official report. “Report complete, apply Captain's seal, route for approval from department heads including Communications, Science, Security and Medical.”
The next several pieces of paperwork in his queue were form letters from the ship's legal staff. They contained anything he as the Captain needed to know about the recently deceased crew members’ last will and testaments. Ensign Harper and Lieutenant Quing had wanted their ashes dispersed into space. The rest had wanted their ashes returned to a family member, friend or religious official. An empty urn would be sent to each. All had requested a shipboard funeral to be performed by the Captain. Jim didn't think he had ever seen a personnel file for someone who hadn't requested one. It was the first and easiest question on Starfleet's sobering in-the-event-of-your-death paperwork. Jim remembered filing his own together with Bones. There had been alcohol involved. It was after the Narada attack, after they knew he wasn't going to be chucked out of Starfleet for his impressive list of crimes committed to save humanity, but before they knew he was going to be Captain. Of course there had been alcohol. They both checked the box for an on-ship memorial service. Jim had chosen to have his ashes scattered in whatever part of space he kicked the bucket. Bones had wanted his ashes sent to his daughter and another drink.
Jim looked at the first name on the list. Ensign Swanson had requested the generic remembrance ceremony. He pulled up Able Swanson's personnel file. He listed his next of kin was a brother on Earth colony Nicus 2. He had bounced around specializations at the Academy before settling on security. He had been on a training mission on Agles Fro during the Narada attack. He had requested assignment to the Enterprise after graduation. Lieutenant Commander Vick's reviews suggested that he was an adequate but not outstanding officer. A short list of away missions ended with the one to Kumba 6-4.
Jim sighed and moved on to Lieutenant Annie Mendleson's file. She had requested a Pan Solar end ceremony. He would have to ask Lieutenant Uhura to pull the right audio files for that. Lieutenant Mendleson had a husband assigned to the USS Albert Lee who had been planning to transfer to the Enterprise as a junior science officer specializing in botany. The picture in her profile was a face he remembered passing in the hall, with rosy cheeks and a wicked smile.
Grimly Jim set to working making notes for the next of kin letter. It had taken him two hours to compose his first one. Now it took him fifteen minutes. It wasn't any easier but he had gotten better at distilling his grief for another lost member of his crew.
He was on the fifth letter when his door chimed. “Come.” The door opened to reveal his First Officer, good friend and resident tight ass, Spock. “Come on in.”
“Captain, I see you have already begun your paperwork.” Spock took two steps in and stood, posture perfect.
Jim shrugged. “They deserve it.” Spock nodded his understanding. Jim continued. “I want Scotty looking at the transporters and Chekov working on the scanners.”
“Lieutenant Alvez's report suggests that the transporter malfunction was due to a quantum pulse shorting the matrix.” Spock sounded as reasonable as always.
“Good.” Jim picked up then dropped a stylus on his desk. “That will give Scotty a place to start.”
“Several authorities on the technology believe quantum pulses are impossible to detect or to compensate for.” A year ago Jim would have taken the comment as censure. Somewhere along the line he had learned that Spock was just managing expectations.
Jim had never gotten anywhere by aiming low. “Which is why Scotty is my Chief Engineer, not an ‘authority’. That man has made the impossible into reality more times than I can count.”
“Twelve,” Spock stated dryly. Jim gave him a filthy look. “I can cite twelve occasions in the past year when his accomplishments have been precluded by accepted theories of reality.”
“I want him working on the transporters. If it they worked better today I wouldn't be writing seven fucking letters.” He still would have been writing six but even one less would have made a difference.
“Understood.” Spock glanced down then back at him. “May I help you with the letters?” Jim understood why Spock was hesitant to ask. That first death Spock had asked if Jim would be completing the required paperwork, or if he would prefer Spock did it. Jim had still been shocked at Yeoman Smith’s messy death. He had screamed at Spock on the bridge that the Yeoman was his responsibility, not Spock’s. Another in an embarrassing number of wildly inappropriate arguments on the bridge. There were less of those now. Jim was learning not to hoard his failures so jealously.
“Do you think you could do Ensign Monmoth’s? I don’t know squat about Lurrisian sub-sects. I don’t want to imply anything about cross-dressing or the sun eel collapsing its bicycle.”
Spock’s lips twitched a little. He was probably remembering that particular failure of the universal translator.
“I have enough knowledge to draft a suitable letter.”
Jim gestured to the second chair by the desk. Spock gracefully folded into it and activated the second terminal. They set to work in a comfortable silence.
Jim looked at the stack of PADDs his yeoman had dropped off and rubbed his hands together. He was looking forward to this, and since this was paperwork that was saying something. The paperwork in question was the final arrangements for the social events for the next two months. Kumba 6-4 was in the ass-end of nowhere. Even Mars X thought Kumba 6-4 was in the sticks, so to get anywhere interesting was a long haul. Two months and a few days travel would get them to Federation Ground Base 4 on the planet Plix.
Plix was a populous planet and Ground Base 4 was a large installation. The native Plixi were humanoid with a complex set of frills and fins on their heads and backs. They had taken natural order and beauty and made them the foundations of their society. Their society was structured around these precepts. Even the planetary emblem was a stylized Mandelbrot set. Because of its hierarchical nature and scientific exploration, joining Starfleet was considered a respectable career for those Plixi who wanted to see the galaxy. So many young Plixi wanted to see the galaxy that Ground Base 4 included a Starfleet academy. Like all the off-world academies it had seen a surge of recruits in the past year and a half. One of the main reasons the Enterprise was en route there was to add some of those recruits to the crew and let some crew transfer. Of the fifteen transfers, ten were to other ships, six of those for promotions, four for other reasons. The other five had requested ground postings. So between transfers and a depleted crew they would be picking up forty-eight new crew members. Jim had already reviewed the potential personnel files and made his recommendations.
After Plix they were slated for a month-and-a-half patrol of the neutral zone. Tensions with the Romulans had always been high but now they were stratospheric. Since there was nothing even remotely interesting between here and Ground Base 4 (well, there was one Starfleet outpost, but it was tiny and too far out of the way to be bothered with), Doctor Evans, the one man psychology department of the ship, had recommended some structured activities to keep the crew anchored and stimulated. Jim had snorted at the phrasing. On Earth, when you were cooped up with people through the winter, you would get cabin fever. In space you got space-crazy. Different names for being so bored gnawing off your own leg seemed like a good idea. Frankly, Jim knew his crew was crazy enough already. He had proof that they were all just one alien spore short of bat shit insane. So, ‘structured activities,’ full speed ahead.
Jim started down the list. Biweekly movie night would become weekly. Five teams had signed up for the football tournament. Jim made a mental note to pester Sulu, his team captain, about their team name, ‘All your balls are belong to us’. They had arranged a round robin tournament with two games a week for five weeks. Lieutenant Kresch was putting together a scavenger hunt. The art gallery was opening next week. Jim took a moment to wallow in a smug glow at the talent of his crew. Fourteen different crew members had works on display. There were also going to be several concerts. Beyond that several smaller events had been planned, such as lectures. Jim signed the form with an enthusiastic flick before affixing his electronic seal.
As he sat back he reflected that the crew could do with some cheering up anyway. The last of the funerals from the Kumba 6-4 away mission had been held yesterday. In a crew of under four hundred people, losing seven was a big thing. Everyone had lost a friend, a co-worker, a rival or a familiar face. Lieutenant Mendleson’s funeral had been the day after her death as custom dictated. The other six had been yesterday, ending with half of the crew in the mess hall for Juana’s ‘proper Irish wake’. Jim would bet Bones had treated more than a few hangovers this morning.
Both Jim and Dr. Evans were hoping this mess of cultural and social activities would brighten the bleak atmosphere on the ship.
~*~*~*~
Jim was just waiting for Starfleet to redesign the uniforms again. They seemed to do it every couple of years and he was convinced a redesign could only make things better. The current predilection for Command gold and high collars put him solidly on the worst-dressed list of starship captains. The dress uniform he was wearing now was even more of a fashion disaster then the standard uniform. The collar was higher and gold trim on the gold shirt just looked silly. He ran a finger around his neck, tugging at the collar. He felt strangled but Ensign Singh had wanted the gallery opening to be an occasion and had asked everyone to come in formal wear.
Ensign Singh had outdone himself. The first room of the gallery had two holo sculptures and five holo works arranged on the three open walls. Most of the art for the exhibit was 2D or 3D holos but a few of the artists had the supplies to create physical works. Instead of a single large room the rest of the pieces were displayed in a series of switchback hallways. All the walls had been painted black to allow for greater contrast with the artwork. Thin lines of red, blue and gold had been added to break up the black. For the opening a few high tables had been added to hold champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres. All in all it looked classy.
Jim abandoned his tugging to grab a drink. It was sparkling grape juice. Oh, well. He wandered over to where Scotty was standing examining an impressionistic seascape. “Hi, Scotty.”
“Cap’n,” Scotty acknowledged but didn’t look toward him. “It’s a nice picture isn’t it? Yeoman Sun has been boastin' for the past week that his painting was out here in front.” Jim hummed. “He’s pretty proud of this one.”
“It follows the forms of impressionism well.” Spock had snuck up behind them.
Jim turned to greet him. “Hi, Spock.”
“Commander.” Scotty was still focused on the holo.
“I think the display matrix might be faulty in the upper-left quadrant,” Spock said.
Scotty nodded. “I was just looking at that.” The three of them stared at the painting for a few seconds. Jim caught the shift of colors that Spock and Scotty must have noticed.
There was the click of heels and a subtle scent of jasmine. Uhura leaned over Scotty’s shoulder and wrinkled her forehead. “What’s so fascinating?”
“Holo matrix glitch.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t see it.”
Scotty’s hand skimmed over the holo. “There’s a color change here.”
She scrunched her nose. “Nope.” She shook her head. “I’ve always been better with things I can hear than things I can see.”
“I just need to pull this panel and check the coil alignment.” Scotty worked as he talked, oblivious to Jim's eye roll and Uhura’s fond smile.
Spock stepped away to speak with one of the anthropology ensigns. Scotty, face in the panel, continued, “That reminds me. Dr. Evans told me to do my talk about transporters first; said it would reassure people.”
Jim shrugged. “I guess I’ll have more time to think up questions for ‘The Wonderful World of Warp drives'. How about you Uhura, got all your stuff together?”
“Of course. Although there hasn’t been much interest in the seminar on scent-based communication. We may switch it out for another session of basic Andorian.”
The seascape flickered for a second, long enough to draw the attention of everyone in the room to Scotty’s fiddling. Scotty didn’t seem to notice as he snapped the panel shut. “Fixed.” He turned and slipped his arm around Uhura’s waist.
Ensign Singh tapped his glass to get everyone’s attention. He gave a short speech about the pieces and the artists before encouraging them to enjoy the art and reminding them that the pieces would be on display for the next three months.
Spock was still talking to the Ensign, so Jim had lost his chance to monopolize Spock’s attention for the evening. Uhura and Scotty were examining an abstract piece across the room. With no one to talk to Jim started to work his way towards the back of the gallery. The circular collage of photos from Stabler’s Folly was neat. It captured the saturated tones of the green sky and amber cities. The small sculpture in the first corner had some indefinable air of motion as the human figure pulled itself out of the metal scraps. Jim lingered in front of a large holo. It was two-dimensional, relying on shade and curve to imply features. Jim felt as if there were a hundred faces looking back at him out of it. Then he blinked and the holo was nothing more than scattered dark patches on a lighter background. He had just found the name Elizabeth Daws on a small plaque next to the holo when a Lieutenant came up to him. It was another of the anthropology team. “Hello, Captain.”
“Lieutenant Umba,” he replied with an automatic polite smile.
She glanced at the holo. “Intellectually I know that the human mind in hardwired to find faces, but ever since I saw this piece I can’t help but feel it's watching me.”
Jim took another look. Again the faces appeared and disappeared. “It’s rather haunting.”
“Mark my words, Captain, it will follow you into your dreams.”
Jim manfully resisted the reflexive, 'Maybe you can come by and make sure I have sweet dreams.' He didn’t flirt with his crew, well, except Spock. Lieutenant Umba's calculating expression made Jim think she wouldn't be impressed by it anyway. Instead he asked, “So do you know the artist?”
“Elizabeth.” She shook her head lazily. “Only in passing. I helped set up so I saw everything early.”
There was a pregnant pause. Jim finally broke it by asking, “So what’s your favorite piece?”
She looked one more time at the holo and frowned. “The moving mural Lieutenant Commander Muntz did. It's at the end of the last hall, if you like, I’ll show you.”
They had a stilted conversation about the different pieces until Jim begged off, claiming paperwork. Really he just wanted to get out of his dress uniform.
Whether it was because the painting was that creepy or it was the Lieutenant’s suggestion, he did dream of the faces in the painting that night. His subconscious filled in the details. First the faces of Mendleson, Harper and Quing emerged from the paint then bled away to show Monmoth, Smith, Olson, and Paine. The faces continued to swell and ebb, Juana, Uuuos, Grez, Harrington, Ice Heart, Nigel, Bloom, Ricky. He did not rest well.
Next: Part 2