The Cardassian Incident- Part I
Title: The Cardassian Incident
Author: BadgerPride89
Series: AOS AU
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Pike
Warnings: mild swearing and violence, talk of traumatic past
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 25k
Beta: rainbowstrlght (worship her, seriously)
Artist: Lecri
Link to Art (look before reading please!): http://lecri.livejournal.com/24722.html
Mixer: Shingo the Pest
Link to Mix (listen while reading please!):
http://shingo-the-pest.livejournal.com/152239.html
Summary: Pike wasn’t paralyzed by Nero’s slug. As such, he took command of the Enterprise as scheduled and brought James. T. Kirk along as his Chief of Security. When the Enterprise is ordered to investigate an outpost’s sudden radio silence, they get caught between a rock and a hard place. The outpost scientists are missing and the only ones who seem to have any clue of what’s going on are the Cardassians, a new species and the local powerhouse. However, as time goes on, it’s clear the Cardassians want more than to just help the Enterprise, but just what? As the web is woven around them, Kirk has his own demons to face, demons he long thought dead. Can the crew navigate the treacherous waters of Cardassian interference and save their people?
Part One Part Ib Part II Part III Part IIIb End Notes
-\/-
To the Federation- Discovered bi'lite crystals...- Ship needed to secure...pirates in the are- attacks on -lease hurry.
Valo outpo-
-\/-
In a small, nearly unimportant sector of space, three ships converged. One would be taken over, one would topple an order, and one would usher in a new era.
-\/-
The sirens blared overhead, signaling the end of another drill.
“How long, Mr. Spock?” Jim called to the observation window.
“Five minutes, fifty-three seconds,” the intercom reported neutrally. Dammit. Jim turned to his exhausted contingent and tried to keep the disappointment off his face. They had improved, vastly. Just seven seconds short wasn't anything to be ashamed of. But still, seven seconds made all the difference.
“All right, guys, not exactly what we were hoping for, but I'm not worried we'll get there in the next drill,” he said as the gasping security officers nodded. “Dismissed.” The group started dispersing from the training room, their muttered curses and 'aw, man's echoing through the room and the corridors.
“Giotto!” Jim called to the burly, retreating back. The man stopped and turned, his goatee twitching. It wasn't a secret that Jim and Giotto - more commonly called Cupcake when he was irritating his superior officer - didn't get along, but Giotto was good. Almost as observant as Jim himself.
“Any theories on Lan's distraction today?”
Giotto straightened. “One, sir,” he replied.
Sir. Damn, now Jim knew things were serious.
“And it is...”
Giotto looked him squarely in the eye. “Manson. Word is Manson was the one who took him under her wing. He's taking it pretty hard.”
Damn it all. He'd suspected but...a pang of loss stabbed him in the chest.
“Thanks, Lieutenant,” he replied seriously. Giotto nodded and took his leave as Spock entered the room.
Jim sighed, weariness starting to catch up with him. He hadn't a decent sleep in days and he was really beginning to feel it.
“Running yourself and your security officers ragged is not conducive to anyone's health,” Spock observed unobtrusively. His voice was low, nonjudgmental even as his eyebrow rose in inquiry.
Jim shrugged. “We all have to improve,” Jim said, sagging slightly. Spock stepped closer until they were nearly breathing each other's air, Jim more than a little uncomfortable at the proximity.
“Commander. Jim,” Spock corrected himself almost awkwardly, “the security aboard the Enterprise has an efficiency rating of ninety-eight point four, the highest in the fleet. It started this mission five months ago with an efficiency of eighty-five point three. That dramatic rise can only be attributed to your leadership and dedication to those people.”
“Obviously the rating isn't high enough,” Jim retorted, almost snappishly. Spock placed his hands behind his back, undaunted.
“Lieutenant Manson's death was not your fault, nor can it be attributed to a lack of preparation. She knew the risks associated with the security forces.”
Jim just shook his head. “My officers' lives are my responsibility, Spock. If they screw up and get someone else killed, that's my fault. If they die because I wasn't fast enough-” He trailed off as Spock gave him a look.
“Jim, Lieutenant Manson died so her fellow officers could live. She chose to do so, and to blame yourself for her actions is not only illogical, it is unhealthy,” Spock's voice dropped to an intense whisper that still sent furious chills down Jim's back, for all that he'd grown used to the Vulcan, “The Enterprise needs you focused, not 'beating yourself up.'”
“I don't see any wounds, Mr. Spock,” Jim wearily teased.
Spock's serious demeanor remained unchanged. “With all due seriousness, pushing yourself and your officers past exhaustion is becoming a disturbing pattern and should be-”
“Hey, lovebirds!”
The two commanders shifted simultaneously to see Leonard McCoy standing just outside the training room, a hand on his hip. Jim rolled his eyes, silently thankful for his friend's interruption.
“Is it just me or did we have a game planned today at 1700 and it's now 1730?”
“Sorry, Bones,” Jim answered before Spock could start a snark fest, “Training ran a little late.”
McCoy harrumphed and scowled. “Well, come on, then. Unlike you two, I don't have all night.”
Spock and Jim traded looks, but moved towards him.
“Trust me, doctor, I shall not need all night to defeat you,” Spock said as the trio walked out of the room.
McCoy merely smirked. “Oh trust me, Commander,” he mocked, “I won't need all night to defeat you.”
Jim rolled his eyes at his friends' banter. “Old married couple,” he said in an almost sing- songy voice as they entered the turbolift, and he told the lift their destination. They both treated him with their versions of the 'you have got to be kidding me' look, which only served to reinforce Jim's statement. He barely bit back a laugh as he raised his hands in surrender, and they went back to snarking at each other.
Spock and Bones often fought - in fact, a few of their arguments were legendary around the Enterprise. It'd become a sort of hazing ritual with new hands to tell them the story of Talleius XI, and laugh when they couldn't look either their XO or CMO in the eye for fear of their acerbic tongues. Of course, any who knew the men at all knew there was little real animosity between them; and that most of what existed stemmed from Spock's depositing Jim on Delta Vega and Bones' anger at the action. Jim suspected that the fact his two friends were so alike, surface and cultural differences aside, had something to do with their success. They were certainly making better headway than Spock and Jim.
It wasn't even the big things anymore. It'd been months since he believed Spock thought he was an idiot. Just the little things. Jim didn't really know how it was supposed to be with Spock, but this teetering between former enemies, respected colleagues, and actual friends wasn't it.
They entered the rec room on deck five - a room nearly empty this close to ship meal time - and with the ease of practice set up the game: Pool. One wouldn't guess by looking at Bones - Jim certainly hadn't until he had his ass totally kicked - but the doctor was a pool shark. He knew every trick in the book, calculated the vectors like no one's business, and was unrivaled until he introduced it to Spock. Jim had to admit he'd laughed for hours when the student surpassed the master in their first match. Jim had no talent for the game himself - well, more like the patience needed to master the trickier aspects - but watching those two play after a tough day always refreshed him; and wore Spock down enough so Jim could defeat him at chess more easily. As Spock and McCoy flipped a coin to determine who had the first shot, Jim grabbed a chair and sat back to watch the fireworks.
Or would have, if not for the klaxon suddenly bleeping the 'urgent' signal. All three men tensed.
“All senior officers and department heads report to conference room one, replacements to come on duty immediately. Repeat-”
The game forgotten, the three moved as one through the ship until they entered said conference room where Scotty and Uhura were already seated. Jim acknowledged both of them as he took his place between Scotty and Spock, as the chain of command demanded.
“Any idea what's happening, Uhura?”
She shook her head. “Not a one,” she said without the usual underlying 'and if I knew I probably wouldn't tell you anyway' in her tone. In fact, she sounded rather worried. “A priority one message came in, coded captain only, I piped it down and the next thing I know, the Captain's telling me to get everyone up here yesterday.”
Something big then.
“Was there an admiral signature in the coding?” Spock asked.
“Yeah, Komack.”
Which meant shit was going to go pear-shaped faster than warp speed. Komack headed the colonial and scientific outpost departments within the fleet. For him to contact a star ship meant only one thing: Trouble, and lots of it.
“Lovely,” Bones drawled, as Pike stalked into the room with a slight limp; motioning for everyone to stay seated.
“All right, listen up, people,” he said tightly as he walked to the computer screen on the far wall, and tapped the view screen until a quadrant map appeared.
Jim and Spock sat straighter as the rest of the officers tensed. Very, very pear-shaped.
“This,” the screen zoomed in onto a tiny system just past Federation boarders, “is Valo. A small, almost inconsequential scientific research post out in the middle of nowhere. Population: Seven full-time scientists, with others dropped in as needed.”
Jim whistled. That was tiny, even for a research station.
“Their research?” Leonard asked.
Pike pressed a button on the table. “Your basic planetary survey. With one,” a molecular structure popped up on the screen and Jim heard Spock inhale sharply, “exception. This team discovered bi'lite crystals deep in the planet's mountains. So they reported.”
Even Jim gaped at that revelation. Bi'lite crystals had a number of useful properties, from medicinal to phaser focusers, and had become all the more valuable since Vulcan's destruction. Then his brain caught up.
“So they reported?” he repeated. “Why didn't they send any data with the report?”
“Because Kirk, the planet's swamped in high radiation ion storms. They were lucky the report made it back and wound up decipherable.”
That would explain it.
“So we are to fortify the position and verify their discovery, Captain?” Spock asked.
Pike nodded sharply. “Partially, Commander. We're also to investigate why they've gone into radio silence since that report.”
The pit in Jim's stomach dropped straight to hell. Pear-shaped indeed. No one just 'went into radio silence,' especially not with the discovery of the decade on the line. Those scientists should have been sending out reports, or at least 'we're okay, don't worry about us yet' messages every day, minimum.
“Theories,” Pike barked and they snapped into action.
“They could've caught something,” Bones started, “If it hit hard and fast enough, it could’ve incapacitated them before they managed to get a call out.”
The storms have been degrading the signal more than usual? They're sending the reports, but they're not getting through,” Uhura chimed in.
Jim shook his head. “My money's on pirates. The surrounding sectors are crawling with them - the Rymusians, Alkaidians, even the Orions. And that's just the species we know about. Some pirates intercepted their transmission, decided to cash in on the crystal market, took over the place.” He felt it in his bones. The months he'd been commanding Security had honed his already prodigious instincts on people. It wouldn't have been difficult either; seven scientists standing between the pirates and information that would make them rich. That was one hell of a tempting target. He'd raid the place in their shoes. Just the information would make a tidy profit. If they actually figured out how to grab a few crystals... no doubt, the problem was pirates.
“If someone has taken control of the outpost, it would explain why the scientists are not transmitting anything,” Spock concurred.
“You ever think they're keeping quiet so they don't attract pirates?” Bones asserted, “They were required to send out that report, maybe they're laying low now to buy themselves time until we get there.”
“That is a possibility, Doctor,” Spock actually conceded without a fight. “But ultimately, there are other ways to ensure their safety. Halting their biweekly transmissions is possibly just as provoking as the bi'lite report. If they wished to avoid attention, logically, their transmissions should have continued as usual.”
“When you put a human being in a stressful situation, Mr. Spock, logic goes out the fu-”
“Gentlemen, you are Star fleet officers, not debaters,” Pike interrupted with that 'if you make me say it again, I'll have your head' edge Jim wished he could produce.
“So basically, we have no idea what's going on. My guys take the lead, secure the place, and we take it from there. Sound about right?” Jim drew the conversation back on topic, wearily attempting to draw up squads from his officers. God, he needed sleep.
“Got it in one,” Pike said grimly before turning to Scott. “How long can we sustain maximum warp?”
“The engines can take twenty-six hours without intervention. However, I wouldn't push it past thirty if you want to go chasing after space pirates once we get there.”
Pike's whole manner hardened. “Mr. Scott, Valo is thirty-five hours away at maximum warp and we are the only ship in the immediate area. Do what you have to do to get us there in one piece and combat-ready, understood?”
Scotty nodded unhappily, muttering quietly under his breath.
Pike looked around the room. “Any questions?” None came. “Dismissed.” Everyone stood and filed out, with Scotty quickly calling Chekov to Engineering, and Uhura typing furiously into her padd; probably calling all of the support staff for a brainstorm.
“There goes our game,” Bones grumbled half-heartedly. Spock raised an eyebrow.
“Perhaps you will use this reprieve to better your game and become a challenge, Doctor,” he said simply before turning to Jim. “I would ask you to take this time to relax, but as I know you would not anyway, I shall simply ask you to not overwork yourself nor your forces.”
Jim rolled his eyes and spoke before Bones could verbalize his outrage. “Point received and taken, Commander.”
Spock looked him over, then turned on his heel and left; calmly walking to the bridge.
Bones crossed his arms. “Now what was that about?”
Jim cringed slightly. Now that he knew Spock better, he could almost swear the man did that on purpose.
“It's nothing,” he tried, waving a hand in dismissal.
Bones raised an eyebrow. “Really...” he drawled sarcastically, in the exact 'cut the bullshit' tone Spock, Pike, and practically any person who garnered Jim Kirk's respect could call upon.
“It's only a couple of extra practice sessions,” Jim said defensively as Bones' eyes widened.
“Jim, those kids already run four practice sessions a week, and you called for more? Again? I know you hate your people dying but doing - ” Bones fumbled, gesturing a bit wildly. “This is just crazy. She's not coming back just because you run them through the wringer. ”
Jim tried to remain calm, but the last few days combined with yet another high risk mission frayed his control. “This has nothing to do-”
“Damn right it does,” Bones overrode him, much to Jim's ire. “You start in on these extra practices every single time one of your people dies-”
“Don't tell me how to run my damn department. And if you're going to lecture me, you mind doing it where people aren't running around?” he hissed, gesturing to the few personnel giving the commander and doctor a wide berth.
Bones shook his head, as though clearing it. “Look, kid, I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job. I'm just saying that there's better ways of dealing with losing people than punishing yourself and the other survivors. That's all,” he backed off and stepped closer. “There's a reason they invented brandy and hangover hypos, you know.”
As expected, Jim couldn't help grinning as some of the tension diffused. “Thanks,” he answered.
“And if that fails, you can always kick the pants off that damn Vulcan of yours at chess. And invite me to watch,” Bones finished suggestively.
Jim sighed. The last month, between one thing or another, he and Bones hadn't had enough time together. Well, they had plenty of time together in life-imperiling situations, but friendship needed more than running through fire, both literal and not, to sustain it.
“You got it,” Jim said, the remaining fight draining out of him, leaving only weariness.
Bones looked him over again before slinging an arm over his shoulder, and directing him to bed.
-\/-
The hours before Enterprise assumed standard orbit around Valo saw a flurry of activity aboard the ship. An excited, nervous tension clung to the crew at large, as it always did when they were about to go into a dangerous mission head first. But a few, mostly the security forces, kept their focus razor sharp. They refused to be distracted by the mere fact that they were going into a hostile situation with little information, and instead got down to work.
Well, most of them. Their leader was having a hard time concentrating on the matter at hand, and couldn’t begin to figure out why.
“The Rymusians seem to steer clear of this area, though,” Ensign Parday said fervently, shaking her head.
As Jim frequently did when they had any idea what the Enterprise may be facing, he called in his people for brain-storming sessions on what they could expect, which maneuvers to use, what numbers - the list went on. Early in Jim's tenure as Chief, he'd made no apologies about the fact that he was inexperienced, that all but a few of their forces were inexperienced, and that he couldn't do this alone. The officers, in the beginning, were chosen randomly until the day that every single officer packed the conference room to plan strategy.
“So what if they normally do? We're talking information worth billions of credits here. That's enough to make even the most cautious folk take risks they normally wouldn't,” Crewman Reynolds retaliated.
“But they don't want Star Fleet up in their business. They know we'd kick them from here to the Delta quadrant if they messed with our people,” Lieutenant Masters countered.
Jim looked over his officers, attempting to counter his mind’s newfound tendency to wander.
“Lan,” he said loudly. The young man snapped out of his stupor, and met his superior's gaze. The air practically squeezed from the sudden tension in the room.
“Sir?” he asked.
“Anything to add?” Jim asked gently.
Lan shook his head. “No, sir.”
Jim bit back a sigh, and slid off the table he'd perched on.
“All right, guys, fact of the matter here is we don't know what we're dealing with. Could be nothing, could be a hell hole. So, two snipers, two investigators, and two guards ought to do to start things. Back-up squads will be on stand-by in our transporter room,” he said as he paced the room between his people. He stopped and met the almost hopeful looks the others gave him.
“Colt, Giotto, Aasta, Dract, Sahn, Lan,” the last of whom widened his eyes at the declaration, “You're with me. The rest of you, squads three and five are primary back-up.”
“Sir,” Commander Ratani, an older, grizzled betazoid known for his tactlessness, said, “If you need reinforcements, squad four should be first on your list. Potential hostage situation, remember?”
“And you guys got a workout last week.” Jim almost managed to not wince. “You’ve earned a pass on this one.”
Ratani shook his head in that way that Jim believed disappointed parents used on their kids.
“We're the squad trained for this,” he said, borderline insubordinate. “Let us do our jobs.” His eyes gleamed fiercely, and his squad mates nodded in agreement.
“And I'm your commanding officer,” Jim returned harshly, “my decision's final.”
Ratani blinked, but backed off. Jim looked between his people again, some of whom weren't meeting his gaze.
“Anything else?” No one spoke, but a certain rebellious feeling hung in the air. “Then you're all dismissed.”
Without a word, the security forces trudged out; their usual friendliness, energy, and eagerness absent.
“Sir?”
Jim turned and almost snapped at Lan, but held himself. He wasn't angry at the man, and he didn't deserve it.
“Why- why are you assigning me to the away team?” he asked hesitantly.
Jim stared at him a second before answering. “Because you're one of our top forensic experts,” he said, before closing the distance between them. “I need you down there.”
Lan just looked at his commander's shoes. “Sir, with all due respect, I don't think I'm cut out for that,” he replied softly.
“You are,” Jim said just as softly. “You just need a chance to remember that you are.”
Lan shook his head. “If she-”
“Lan, if Manson was here right now, what would she tell you about going on this mission?”
“She'd tell me to just do it,” he said after thinking a moment.“That we don't choose our missions, but we complete them the best we can anyway.”
“There you go,” Jim said. “You'll do fine.”
Lan looked skeptical but after a moment said, "If you say so, sir," and retreated.
If only all of Jim’s problems could be solved so easily. He tried not to let Ratani’s statement get to him, but fuck it was hard. Was he making the right decision? Should he have four on primary stand-by and not one of the others? No, he decided. They needed the break. Didn’t they?
-\/-
Upon beaming-in, the first thing that grabbed Jim was the silence. No humming of equipment, no whirring of the mobile security cameras, no footfalls nor chattering. Nothing except dead air. Jim mentally shuddered at the word choice.
Spock pulled out his tricorder and began taking his readings, sparing only a hard glance at Lan. The man got the message and took out his own tricorder, calibrated differently because of the different demands of his job, as Colt and Giotto took up defensive positions.
“There are no signs of life anywhere within range,” Spock reported, with a touch of regret coloring his tone.
Bones cursed as a strange bubble of relief grew in Jim’s chest. Before he had time to examine it, one of his officers spoke.
“Got a fix on some old organic matter,” Dract reported, “five meters that way.”
Jim nodded. “Bones, Colt, Lan, Aasta take that, would you?”
The two officers and one crewwoman headed out, as Jim walked up to Spock.
“The Mission Control?”
“Perhaps that is where we will discover some answers. Data and recordings should be kept on the computers in that area.”
“Sir, I’ve got a preliminary read on some unidentified organic matter,” Dract said again, excitement practically wafting off of the Andorian.
“Any idea what it could be?”
Dract shook his head. “Probably stuff left behind, skin cells, hairs, etc., but I won’t know until I get a closer look at it.”
“Giotto, go with him. Be careful,” Jim ordered admonishingly.
Dract rolled his eyes. “I promise I won’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere, sir.”
“Not funny,” Jim snapped. “Get going.”
Giotto and Dract, to their credit, slipped out of the hallway without another word. When Jim turned his gaze back to Spock, the Vulcan was looking at him like he was a specimen again.
“Where’s that mission control again?”
-\/-
Captain Christopher Pike did not pace when his three best officers were down on the ground. Well, not anymore. Not since the first time they left his ship without him.
Kirk's trouble-magnet inclinations aside, he, Spock, and McCoy together completed the most impossible of tasks. Despite drawing the hardest of missions, they kept ninety five percent of their personnel alive and uninjured, although typically because of Kirk and Spock's martyr tendencies.
So, Pike didn't pace. He didn't worry. But he did tap his fingers against his chair as he glanced back at Lieutenant Uhura - whom he installed as Communications Chief after the Narada, and never regretted it - every few seconds, anticipating the boys' call. She fixed him with an indulgent glare after the fifteenth time; and for a brief moment he wondered once again why she had no interest in command.
“Kirk to Enterprise, come in,” rang across his bridge, and Pike released a relieved sigh. No breathlessness on the other side, no pained grunt, and Kirk himself was calling. Always a good sign.
“Report, Kirk,” he ordered simply.
“No one's home, Captain. Literally other than us, the place is deserted.”
Dammit. “Theories?”
“Oh, we know what happened. We've got security footage of these weird people manhandling our favorite scientists, and some sort of scale cells they left behind. Not hard to connect the dots.”
Pike snorted in almost-amusement. “Anything else?”
“Actually, yeah - their computer data has been totally wiped. Everything's gone. Spock's working on it.”
“And why didn't you say that in the first place?” he asked mildly.
Kirk stammered on the other side of the line, as Sulu and Chekov traded amused snickers.
“Sahn is sending you guys the footage,” the boy recovered a second later.
Pike nodded once in approval. Kirk was only getting better at handling his curve balls.
“Have it, sir,” Uhura reported, “Putting it on screen.”
A second later, the Enterprise viewscreen was filled by grainy, dark footage. The camera was situated in a long corridor, positioned just so that it caught the entire area, including the cross corridor several meters away.
“It's from the main hallway and the time stamp is from twelve hours ago. Watch the intersection,” Kirk said.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then a group of people walked from behind the camera; their figures traveling up the screen. Pike quickly identified the seven missing scientists, as they were the ones trying to break the grips of the others, or had their arms up in the universal sign of surrender.
Once the group made it to the intersection, one of the kidnappers turned and fired a shot. The image turned to static.
“Uhura,” Pike said as he stood, and the woman went to work. She rewound the footage and began zooming in on the captor's face.
After a few minutes, the figure's features filled the screen and baffled Pike. Though the people were humanoids, they certainly didn't look like mammals. In fact, the first descriptor Pike could attach to the figures was human-shaped reptiles.
The severity of the reptilian features didn't surpass the Xindi standard, but it was close. The entirety of the forehead seemed like a cross between Klingon ridges and a scaled helmet, with a spoon-like extrusion right in the center. And the neck looked almost snake-like or turtle-like, scaled on the sides. It was wider than most humanoid species and seemed to end right near a typical collarbone. The skin color stood somewhere between brown and gray, as though it really couldn't make up its mind about which color it was.
“You getting this, Kirk?” A second passed.
“Got it, Captain - jeez, what are these guys? Spock, Bones, little help here,” Kirk called.
There was some shuffling and grumbling on the other side before it went silent. Pike allowed it for a moment.
“Thoughts, gentlemen?”
“If I recall correctly, these features look remarkably like the Raskilian description of a species known as the Cardassians,” Spock spoke up.
Translation: These guys are definitely Cardassians, but I don't know anything beyond that. Lovely.
Pike wracked his brain for any information on that species. Nothing came to mind, save the report Spock already quoted.
When the Raskilians joined the Federation a few years ago, they had warned of a nearby No Man's land which was met with complete radio silence and from which only ship had returned. It informed them that the Cardassians, who lived in the No Man's land, wanted to be left alone and wouldn't take no for an answer.
Could those same people have expanded their space to include this system?
“Finish sweeping that place, Kirk. You know what to look for,” Pike ordered. “Chekov, begin sweeping for anything that might be a ship's trail.”
“Aye, sir.”
“You got it, Captain,” Kirk said wearily. “How's everything up there?”
“Everything's perfectly norm-”
“Captain!” Chekov exclaimed over him.
Pike held back a ‘damn’, and on rolling his eyes. Ever since he brought Kirk into his command, normalcy flew right out the airlock. He didn't mind it most of the time; but here, now, with their scientists missing and only their captors' faces, he could use a little normalcy.
“There is a ship five hundred kilometers off the starboard bow, bearing three-one-seven mark one-oh-eight!”
Pike scowled as he marched back to his chair, with a slight limp in his gait.
“Klingon?” Only they and the Romulans could get so close without anyone noticing.
“No sir. Design is not Klingon nor Romulan,” the boy said in frustration. “It matches nothing on file.”
Great. Wonderful.
“Chris, what's going on up there?” Kirk's voice came through the speakers statically.
“Put that ship on main viewer,” Pike ordered before putting the ship on yellow alert. “Sorry Kirk, I'm little busy right now. Keep investigating. I want that destroyed data restored next time I call, understood?”
Kirk swore audibly before acknowledging him and cutting the line, and Pike turned all his attention to the ship outside.
At first glance, the ship was large. Smaller than Enterprise, but easily larger than the explorer-class. It appeared bulky and unwieldy; not that a space ship needed to be graceful to get the job done. The brown metal gleamed uneasily in the rising sunlight; and something about the way it sat there, assessing them, left Pike uneasy. Experience had taught him that someone taking the time to decide if they should attack or not was as often a curse as a boon.
“Chekov, Uhura, what have you got for me?” he stated briskly.
“Sensors are not getting anything, Captain,” Chekov pronounced haphazardly; his attention firmly on his monitors, as his fingers rapidly adjusted them. “No life form readings, no weapons readings, no cargo, there's nothing. I can barely keep it on the computer itself.”
“Guesses then, Mr. Chekov.”
“If I can get Mr. Scott or Mr. Spock to take a look at them maybe I could guess, Captain. Right now, all I can tell you is that I have no idea what they are capable of.”
“I don't like things sneaking up on us, ensign,” Pike said simply, as he signaled engineering to get their boss up to the bridge.
“Neither do I, sir,” Chekov responded.
“Captain, I'm getting a lot of radio activity from the vessel on several channels, but I can't make any of it out. The translational matrix is having a hard time finding a basis-Captain, they're hailing us,” Uhura finished calmly.
“Open the channel, Lieutenant,” Pike replied. And blinked.
He saw ridged eyebrows, a scaled, sloping neck, gray skin, and a spoon-like extrusion on the center of the forehead.
Part Ib
Author: BadgerPride89
Series: AOS AU
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and Pike
Warnings: mild swearing and violence, talk of traumatic past
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 25k
Beta: rainbowstrlght (worship her, seriously)
Artist: Lecri
Link to Art (look before reading please!): http://lecri.livejournal.com/24722.html
Mixer: Shingo the Pest
Link to Mix (listen while reading please!):
http://shingo-the-pest.livejournal.com/152239.html
Summary: Pike wasn’t paralyzed by Nero’s slug. As such, he took command of the Enterprise as scheduled and brought James. T. Kirk along as his Chief of Security. When the Enterprise is ordered to investigate an outpost’s sudden radio silence, they get caught between a rock and a hard place. The outpost scientists are missing and the only ones who seem to have any clue of what’s going on are the Cardassians, a new species and the local powerhouse. However, as time goes on, it’s clear the Cardassians want more than to just help the Enterprise, but just what? As the web is woven around them, Kirk has his own demons to face, demons he long thought dead. Can the crew navigate the treacherous waters of Cardassian interference and save their people?
Part One Part Ib Part II Part III Part IIIb End Notes
-\/-
To the Federation- Discovered bi'lite crystals...- Ship needed to secure...pirates in the are- attacks on -lease hurry.
Valo outpo-
-\/-
In a small, nearly unimportant sector of space, three ships converged. One would be taken over, one would topple an order, and one would usher in a new era.
-\/-
The sirens blared overhead, signaling the end of another drill.
“How long, Mr. Spock?” Jim called to the observation window.
“Five minutes, fifty-three seconds,” the intercom reported neutrally. Dammit. Jim turned to his exhausted contingent and tried to keep the disappointment off his face. They had improved, vastly. Just seven seconds short wasn't anything to be ashamed of. But still, seven seconds made all the difference.
“All right, guys, not exactly what we were hoping for, but I'm not worried we'll get there in the next drill,” he said as the gasping security officers nodded. “Dismissed.” The group started dispersing from the training room, their muttered curses and 'aw, man's echoing through the room and the corridors.
“Giotto!” Jim called to the burly, retreating back. The man stopped and turned, his goatee twitching. It wasn't a secret that Jim and Giotto - more commonly called Cupcake when he was irritating his superior officer - didn't get along, but Giotto was good. Almost as observant as Jim himself.
“Any theories on Lan's distraction today?”
Giotto straightened. “One, sir,” he replied.
Sir. Damn, now Jim knew things were serious.
“And it is...”
Giotto looked him squarely in the eye. “Manson. Word is Manson was the one who took him under her wing. He's taking it pretty hard.”
Damn it all. He'd suspected but...a pang of loss stabbed him in the chest.
“Thanks, Lieutenant,” he replied seriously. Giotto nodded and took his leave as Spock entered the room.
Jim sighed, weariness starting to catch up with him. He hadn't a decent sleep in days and he was really beginning to feel it.
“Running yourself and your security officers ragged is not conducive to anyone's health,” Spock observed unobtrusively. His voice was low, nonjudgmental even as his eyebrow rose in inquiry.
Jim shrugged. “We all have to improve,” Jim said, sagging slightly. Spock stepped closer until they were nearly breathing each other's air, Jim more than a little uncomfortable at the proximity.
“Commander. Jim,” Spock corrected himself almost awkwardly, “the security aboard the Enterprise has an efficiency rating of ninety-eight point four, the highest in the fleet. It started this mission five months ago with an efficiency of eighty-five point three. That dramatic rise can only be attributed to your leadership and dedication to those people.”
“Obviously the rating isn't high enough,” Jim retorted, almost snappishly. Spock placed his hands behind his back, undaunted.
“Lieutenant Manson's death was not your fault, nor can it be attributed to a lack of preparation. She knew the risks associated with the security forces.”
Jim just shook his head. “My officers' lives are my responsibility, Spock. If they screw up and get someone else killed, that's my fault. If they die because I wasn't fast enough-” He trailed off as Spock gave him a look.
“Jim, Lieutenant Manson died so her fellow officers could live. She chose to do so, and to blame yourself for her actions is not only illogical, it is unhealthy,” Spock's voice dropped to an intense whisper that still sent furious chills down Jim's back, for all that he'd grown used to the Vulcan, “The Enterprise needs you focused, not 'beating yourself up.'”
“I don't see any wounds, Mr. Spock,” Jim wearily teased.
Spock's serious demeanor remained unchanged. “With all due seriousness, pushing yourself and your officers past exhaustion is becoming a disturbing pattern and should be-”
“Hey, lovebirds!”
The two commanders shifted simultaneously to see Leonard McCoy standing just outside the training room, a hand on his hip. Jim rolled his eyes, silently thankful for his friend's interruption.
“Is it just me or did we have a game planned today at 1700 and it's now 1730?”
“Sorry, Bones,” Jim answered before Spock could start a snark fest, “Training ran a little late.”
McCoy harrumphed and scowled. “Well, come on, then. Unlike you two, I don't have all night.”
Spock and Jim traded looks, but moved towards him.
“Trust me, doctor, I shall not need all night to defeat you,” Spock said as the trio walked out of the room.
McCoy merely smirked. “Oh trust me, Commander,” he mocked, “I won't need all night to defeat you.”
Jim rolled his eyes at his friends' banter. “Old married couple,” he said in an almost sing- songy voice as they entered the turbolift, and he told the lift their destination. They both treated him with their versions of the 'you have got to be kidding me' look, which only served to reinforce Jim's statement. He barely bit back a laugh as he raised his hands in surrender, and they went back to snarking at each other.
Spock and Bones often fought - in fact, a few of their arguments were legendary around the Enterprise. It'd become a sort of hazing ritual with new hands to tell them the story of Talleius XI, and laugh when they couldn't look either their XO or CMO in the eye for fear of their acerbic tongues. Of course, any who knew the men at all knew there was little real animosity between them; and that most of what existed stemmed from Spock's depositing Jim on Delta Vega and Bones' anger at the action. Jim suspected that the fact his two friends were so alike, surface and cultural differences aside, had something to do with their success. They were certainly making better headway than Spock and Jim.
It wasn't even the big things anymore. It'd been months since he believed Spock thought he was an idiot. Just the little things. Jim didn't really know how it was supposed to be with Spock, but this teetering between former enemies, respected colleagues, and actual friends wasn't it.
They entered the rec room on deck five - a room nearly empty this close to ship meal time - and with the ease of practice set up the game: Pool. One wouldn't guess by looking at Bones - Jim certainly hadn't until he had his ass totally kicked - but the doctor was a pool shark. He knew every trick in the book, calculated the vectors like no one's business, and was unrivaled until he introduced it to Spock. Jim had to admit he'd laughed for hours when the student surpassed the master in their first match. Jim had no talent for the game himself - well, more like the patience needed to master the trickier aspects - but watching those two play after a tough day always refreshed him; and wore Spock down enough so Jim could defeat him at chess more easily. As Spock and McCoy flipped a coin to determine who had the first shot, Jim grabbed a chair and sat back to watch the fireworks.
Or would have, if not for the klaxon suddenly bleeping the 'urgent' signal. All three men tensed.
“All senior officers and department heads report to conference room one, replacements to come on duty immediately. Repeat-”
The game forgotten, the three moved as one through the ship until they entered said conference room where Scotty and Uhura were already seated. Jim acknowledged both of them as he took his place between Scotty and Spock, as the chain of command demanded.
“Any idea what's happening, Uhura?”
She shook her head. “Not a one,” she said without the usual underlying 'and if I knew I probably wouldn't tell you anyway' in her tone. In fact, she sounded rather worried. “A priority one message came in, coded captain only, I piped it down and the next thing I know, the Captain's telling me to get everyone up here yesterday.”
Something big then.
“Was there an admiral signature in the coding?” Spock asked.
“Yeah, Komack.”
Which meant shit was going to go pear-shaped faster than warp speed. Komack headed the colonial and scientific outpost departments within the fleet. For him to contact a star ship meant only one thing: Trouble, and lots of it.
“Lovely,” Bones drawled, as Pike stalked into the room with a slight limp; motioning for everyone to stay seated.
“All right, listen up, people,” he said tightly as he walked to the computer screen on the far wall, and tapped the view screen until a quadrant map appeared.
Jim and Spock sat straighter as the rest of the officers tensed. Very, very pear-shaped.
“This,” the screen zoomed in onto a tiny system just past Federation boarders, “is Valo. A small, almost inconsequential scientific research post out in the middle of nowhere. Population: Seven full-time scientists, with others dropped in as needed.”
Jim whistled. That was tiny, even for a research station.
“Their research?” Leonard asked.
Pike pressed a button on the table. “Your basic planetary survey. With one,” a molecular structure popped up on the screen and Jim heard Spock inhale sharply, “exception. This team discovered bi'lite crystals deep in the planet's mountains. So they reported.”
Even Jim gaped at that revelation. Bi'lite crystals had a number of useful properties, from medicinal to phaser focusers, and had become all the more valuable since Vulcan's destruction. Then his brain caught up.
“So they reported?” he repeated. “Why didn't they send any data with the report?”
“Because Kirk, the planet's swamped in high radiation ion storms. They were lucky the report made it back and wound up decipherable.”
That would explain it.
“So we are to fortify the position and verify their discovery, Captain?” Spock asked.
Pike nodded sharply. “Partially, Commander. We're also to investigate why they've gone into radio silence since that report.”
The pit in Jim's stomach dropped straight to hell. Pear-shaped indeed. No one just 'went into radio silence,' especially not with the discovery of the decade on the line. Those scientists should have been sending out reports, or at least 'we're okay, don't worry about us yet' messages every day, minimum.
“Theories,” Pike barked and they snapped into action.
“They could've caught something,” Bones started, “If it hit hard and fast enough, it could’ve incapacitated them before they managed to get a call out.”
The storms have been degrading the signal more than usual? They're sending the reports, but they're not getting through,” Uhura chimed in.
Jim shook his head. “My money's on pirates. The surrounding sectors are crawling with them - the Rymusians, Alkaidians, even the Orions. And that's just the species we know about. Some pirates intercepted their transmission, decided to cash in on the crystal market, took over the place.” He felt it in his bones. The months he'd been commanding Security had honed his already prodigious instincts on people. It wouldn't have been difficult either; seven scientists standing between the pirates and information that would make them rich. That was one hell of a tempting target. He'd raid the place in their shoes. Just the information would make a tidy profit. If they actually figured out how to grab a few crystals... no doubt, the problem was pirates.
“If someone has taken control of the outpost, it would explain why the scientists are not transmitting anything,” Spock concurred.
“You ever think they're keeping quiet so they don't attract pirates?” Bones asserted, “They were required to send out that report, maybe they're laying low now to buy themselves time until we get there.”
“That is a possibility, Doctor,” Spock actually conceded without a fight. “But ultimately, there are other ways to ensure their safety. Halting their biweekly transmissions is possibly just as provoking as the bi'lite report. If they wished to avoid attention, logically, their transmissions should have continued as usual.”
“When you put a human being in a stressful situation, Mr. Spock, logic goes out the fu-”
“Gentlemen, you are Star fleet officers, not debaters,” Pike interrupted with that 'if you make me say it again, I'll have your head' edge Jim wished he could produce.
“So basically, we have no idea what's going on. My guys take the lead, secure the place, and we take it from there. Sound about right?” Jim drew the conversation back on topic, wearily attempting to draw up squads from his officers. God, he needed sleep.
“Got it in one,” Pike said grimly before turning to Scott. “How long can we sustain maximum warp?”
“The engines can take twenty-six hours without intervention. However, I wouldn't push it past thirty if you want to go chasing after space pirates once we get there.”
Pike's whole manner hardened. “Mr. Scott, Valo is thirty-five hours away at maximum warp and we are the only ship in the immediate area. Do what you have to do to get us there in one piece and combat-ready, understood?”
Scotty nodded unhappily, muttering quietly under his breath.
Pike looked around the room. “Any questions?” None came. “Dismissed.” Everyone stood and filed out, with Scotty quickly calling Chekov to Engineering, and Uhura typing furiously into her padd; probably calling all of the support staff for a brainstorm.
“There goes our game,” Bones grumbled half-heartedly. Spock raised an eyebrow.
“Perhaps you will use this reprieve to better your game and become a challenge, Doctor,” he said simply before turning to Jim. “I would ask you to take this time to relax, but as I know you would not anyway, I shall simply ask you to not overwork yourself nor your forces.”
Jim rolled his eyes and spoke before Bones could verbalize his outrage. “Point received and taken, Commander.”
Spock looked him over, then turned on his heel and left; calmly walking to the bridge.
Bones crossed his arms. “Now what was that about?”
Jim cringed slightly. Now that he knew Spock better, he could almost swear the man did that on purpose.
“It's nothing,” he tried, waving a hand in dismissal.
Bones raised an eyebrow. “Really...” he drawled sarcastically, in the exact 'cut the bullshit' tone Spock, Pike, and practically any person who garnered Jim Kirk's respect could call upon.
“It's only a couple of extra practice sessions,” Jim said defensively as Bones' eyes widened.
“Jim, those kids already run four practice sessions a week, and you called for more? Again? I know you hate your people dying but doing - ” Bones fumbled, gesturing a bit wildly. “This is just crazy. She's not coming back just because you run them through the wringer. ”
Jim tried to remain calm, but the last few days combined with yet another high risk mission frayed his control. “This has nothing to do-”
“Damn right it does,” Bones overrode him, much to Jim's ire. “You start in on these extra practices every single time one of your people dies-”
“Don't tell me how to run my damn department. And if you're going to lecture me, you mind doing it where people aren't running around?” he hissed, gesturing to the few personnel giving the commander and doctor a wide berth.
Bones shook his head, as though clearing it. “Look, kid, I'm not trying to tell you how to do your job. I'm just saying that there's better ways of dealing with losing people than punishing yourself and the other survivors. That's all,” he backed off and stepped closer. “There's a reason they invented brandy and hangover hypos, you know.”
As expected, Jim couldn't help grinning as some of the tension diffused. “Thanks,” he answered.
“And if that fails, you can always kick the pants off that damn Vulcan of yours at chess. And invite me to watch,” Bones finished suggestively.
Jim sighed. The last month, between one thing or another, he and Bones hadn't had enough time together. Well, they had plenty of time together in life-imperiling situations, but friendship needed more than running through fire, both literal and not, to sustain it.
“You got it,” Jim said, the remaining fight draining out of him, leaving only weariness.
Bones looked him over again before slinging an arm over his shoulder, and directing him to bed.
-\/-
The hours before Enterprise assumed standard orbit around Valo saw a flurry of activity aboard the ship. An excited, nervous tension clung to the crew at large, as it always did when they were about to go into a dangerous mission head first. But a few, mostly the security forces, kept their focus razor sharp. They refused to be distracted by the mere fact that they were going into a hostile situation with little information, and instead got down to work.
Well, most of them. Their leader was having a hard time concentrating on the matter at hand, and couldn’t begin to figure out why.
“The Rymusians seem to steer clear of this area, though,” Ensign Parday said fervently, shaking her head.
As Jim frequently did when they had any idea what the Enterprise may be facing, he called in his people for brain-storming sessions on what they could expect, which maneuvers to use, what numbers - the list went on. Early in Jim's tenure as Chief, he'd made no apologies about the fact that he was inexperienced, that all but a few of their forces were inexperienced, and that he couldn't do this alone. The officers, in the beginning, were chosen randomly until the day that every single officer packed the conference room to plan strategy.
“So what if they normally do? We're talking information worth billions of credits here. That's enough to make even the most cautious folk take risks they normally wouldn't,” Crewman Reynolds retaliated.
“But they don't want Star Fleet up in their business. They know we'd kick them from here to the Delta quadrant if they messed with our people,” Lieutenant Masters countered.
Jim looked over his officers, attempting to counter his mind’s newfound tendency to wander.
“Lan,” he said loudly. The young man snapped out of his stupor, and met his superior's gaze. The air practically squeezed from the sudden tension in the room.
“Sir?” he asked.
“Anything to add?” Jim asked gently.
Lan shook his head. “No, sir.”
Jim bit back a sigh, and slid off the table he'd perched on.
“All right, guys, fact of the matter here is we don't know what we're dealing with. Could be nothing, could be a hell hole. So, two snipers, two investigators, and two guards ought to do to start things. Back-up squads will be on stand-by in our transporter room,” he said as he paced the room between his people. He stopped and met the almost hopeful looks the others gave him.
“Colt, Giotto, Aasta, Dract, Sahn, Lan,” the last of whom widened his eyes at the declaration, “You're with me. The rest of you, squads three and five are primary back-up.”
“Sir,” Commander Ratani, an older, grizzled betazoid known for his tactlessness, said, “If you need reinforcements, squad four should be first on your list. Potential hostage situation, remember?”
“And you guys got a workout last week.” Jim almost managed to not wince. “You’ve earned a pass on this one.”
Ratani shook his head in that way that Jim believed disappointed parents used on their kids.
“We're the squad trained for this,” he said, borderline insubordinate. “Let us do our jobs.” His eyes gleamed fiercely, and his squad mates nodded in agreement.
“And I'm your commanding officer,” Jim returned harshly, “my decision's final.”
Ratani blinked, but backed off. Jim looked between his people again, some of whom weren't meeting his gaze.
“Anything else?” No one spoke, but a certain rebellious feeling hung in the air. “Then you're all dismissed.”
Without a word, the security forces trudged out; their usual friendliness, energy, and eagerness absent.
“Sir?”
Jim turned and almost snapped at Lan, but held himself. He wasn't angry at the man, and he didn't deserve it.
“Why- why are you assigning me to the away team?” he asked hesitantly.
Jim stared at him a second before answering. “Because you're one of our top forensic experts,” he said, before closing the distance between them. “I need you down there.”
Lan just looked at his commander's shoes. “Sir, with all due respect, I don't think I'm cut out for that,” he replied softly.
“You are,” Jim said just as softly. “You just need a chance to remember that you are.”
Lan shook his head. “If she-”
“Lan, if Manson was here right now, what would she tell you about going on this mission?”
“She'd tell me to just do it,” he said after thinking a moment.“That we don't choose our missions, but we complete them the best we can anyway.”
“There you go,” Jim said. “You'll do fine.”
Lan looked skeptical but after a moment said, "If you say so, sir," and retreated.
If only all of Jim’s problems could be solved so easily. He tried not to let Ratani’s statement get to him, but fuck it was hard. Was he making the right decision? Should he have four on primary stand-by and not one of the others? No, he decided. They needed the break. Didn’t they?
-\/-
Upon beaming-in, the first thing that grabbed Jim was the silence. No humming of equipment, no whirring of the mobile security cameras, no footfalls nor chattering. Nothing except dead air. Jim mentally shuddered at the word choice.
Spock pulled out his tricorder and began taking his readings, sparing only a hard glance at Lan. The man got the message and took out his own tricorder, calibrated differently because of the different demands of his job, as Colt and Giotto took up defensive positions.
“There are no signs of life anywhere within range,” Spock reported, with a touch of regret coloring his tone.
Bones cursed as a strange bubble of relief grew in Jim’s chest. Before he had time to examine it, one of his officers spoke.
“Got a fix on some old organic matter,” Dract reported, “five meters that way.”
Jim nodded. “Bones, Colt, Lan, Aasta take that, would you?”
The two officers and one crewwoman headed out, as Jim walked up to Spock.
“The Mission Control?”
“Perhaps that is where we will discover some answers. Data and recordings should be kept on the computers in that area.”
“Sir, I’ve got a preliminary read on some unidentified organic matter,” Dract said again, excitement practically wafting off of the Andorian.
“Any idea what it could be?”
Dract shook his head. “Probably stuff left behind, skin cells, hairs, etc., but I won’t know until I get a closer look at it.”
“Giotto, go with him. Be careful,” Jim ordered admonishingly.
Dract rolled his eyes. “I promise I won’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere, sir.”
“Not funny,” Jim snapped. “Get going.”
Giotto and Dract, to their credit, slipped out of the hallway without another word. When Jim turned his gaze back to Spock, the Vulcan was looking at him like he was a specimen again.
“Where’s that mission control again?”
-\/-
Captain Christopher Pike did not pace when his three best officers were down on the ground. Well, not anymore. Not since the first time they left his ship without him.
Kirk's trouble-magnet inclinations aside, he, Spock, and McCoy together completed the most impossible of tasks. Despite drawing the hardest of missions, they kept ninety five percent of their personnel alive and uninjured, although typically because of Kirk and Spock's martyr tendencies.
So, Pike didn't pace. He didn't worry. But he did tap his fingers against his chair as he glanced back at Lieutenant Uhura - whom he installed as Communications Chief after the Narada, and never regretted it - every few seconds, anticipating the boys' call. She fixed him with an indulgent glare after the fifteenth time; and for a brief moment he wondered once again why she had no interest in command.
“Kirk to Enterprise, come in,” rang across his bridge, and Pike released a relieved sigh. No breathlessness on the other side, no pained grunt, and Kirk himself was calling. Always a good sign.
“Report, Kirk,” he ordered simply.
“No one's home, Captain. Literally other than us, the place is deserted.”
Dammit. “Theories?”
“Oh, we know what happened. We've got security footage of these weird people manhandling our favorite scientists, and some sort of scale cells they left behind. Not hard to connect the dots.”
Pike snorted in almost-amusement. “Anything else?”
“Actually, yeah - their computer data has been totally wiped. Everything's gone. Spock's working on it.”
“And why didn't you say that in the first place?” he asked mildly.
Kirk stammered on the other side of the line, as Sulu and Chekov traded amused snickers.
“Sahn is sending you guys the footage,” the boy recovered a second later.
Pike nodded once in approval. Kirk was only getting better at handling his curve balls.
“Have it, sir,” Uhura reported, “Putting it on screen.”
A second later, the Enterprise viewscreen was filled by grainy, dark footage. The camera was situated in a long corridor, positioned just so that it caught the entire area, including the cross corridor several meters away.
“It's from the main hallway and the time stamp is from twelve hours ago. Watch the intersection,” Kirk said.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then a group of people walked from behind the camera; their figures traveling up the screen. Pike quickly identified the seven missing scientists, as they were the ones trying to break the grips of the others, or had their arms up in the universal sign of surrender.
Once the group made it to the intersection, one of the kidnappers turned and fired a shot. The image turned to static.
“Uhura,” Pike said as he stood, and the woman went to work. She rewound the footage and began zooming in on the captor's face.
After a few minutes, the figure's features filled the screen and baffled Pike. Though the people were humanoids, they certainly didn't look like mammals. In fact, the first descriptor Pike could attach to the figures was human-shaped reptiles.
The severity of the reptilian features didn't surpass the Xindi standard, but it was close. The entirety of the forehead seemed like a cross between Klingon ridges and a scaled helmet, with a spoon-like extrusion right in the center. And the neck looked almost snake-like or turtle-like, scaled on the sides. It was wider than most humanoid species and seemed to end right near a typical collarbone. The skin color stood somewhere between brown and gray, as though it really couldn't make up its mind about which color it was.
“You getting this, Kirk?” A second passed.
“Got it, Captain - jeez, what are these guys? Spock, Bones, little help here,” Kirk called.
There was some shuffling and grumbling on the other side before it went silent. Pike allowed it for a moment.
“Thoughts, gentlemen?”
“If I recall correctly, these features look remarkably like the Raskilian description of a species known as the Cardassians,” Spock spoke up.
Translation: These guys are definitely Cardassians, but I don't know anything beyond that. Lovely.
Pike wracked his brain for any information on that species. Nothing came to mind, save the report Spock already quoted.
When the Raskilians joined the Federation a few years ago, they had warned of a nearby No Man's land which was met with complete radio silence and from which only ship had returned. It informed them that the Cardassians, who lived in the No Man's land, wanted to be left alone and wouldn't take no for an answer.
Could those same people have expanded their space to include this system?
“Finish sweeping that place, Kirk. You know what to look for,” Pike ordered. “Chekov, begin sweeping for anything that might be a ship's trail.”
“Aye, sir.”
“You got it, Captain,” Kirk said wearily. “How's everything up there?”
“Everything's perfectly norm-”
“Captain!” Chekov exclaimed over him.
Pike held back a ‘damn’, and on rolling his eyes. Ever since he brought Kirk into his command, normalcy flew right out the airlock. He didn't mind it most of the time; but here, now, with their scientists missing and only their captors' faces, he could use a little normalcy.
“There is a ship five hundred kilometers off the starboard bow, bearing three-one-seven mark one-oh-eight!”
Pike scowled as he marched back to his chair, with a slight limp in his gait.
“Klingon?” Only they and the Romulans could get so close without anyone noticing.
“No sir. Design is not Klingon nor Romulan,” the boy said in frustration. “It matches nothing on file.”
Great. Wonderful.
“Chris, what's going on up there?” Kirk's voice came through the speakers statically.
“Put that ship on main viewer,” Pike ordered before putting the ship on yellow alert. “Sorry Kirk, I'm little busy right now. Keep investigating. I want that destroyed data restored next time I call, understood?”
Kirk swore audibly before acknowledging him and cutting the line, and Pike turned all his attention to the ship outside.
At first glance, the ship was large. Smaller than Enterprise, but easily larger than the explorer-class. It appeared bulky and unwieldy; not that a space ship needed to be graceful to get the job done. The brown metal gleamed uneasily in the rising sunlight; and something about the way it sat there, assessing them, left Pike uneasy. Experience had taught him that someone taking the time to decide if they should attack or not was as often a curse as a boon.
“Chekov, Uhura, what have you got for me?” he stated briskly.
“Sensors are not getting anything, Captain,” Chekov pronounced haphazardly; his attention firmly on his monitors, as his fingers rapidly adjusted them. “No life form readings, no weapons readings, no cargo, there's nothing. I can barely keep it on the computer itself.”
“Guesses then, Mr. Chekov.”
“If I can get Mr. Scott or Mr. Spock to take a look at them maybe I could guess, Captain. Right now, all I can tell you is that I have no idea what they are capable of.”
“I don't like things sneaking up on us, ensign,” Pike said simply, as he signaled engineering to get their boss up to the bridge.
“Neither do I, sir,” Chekov responded.
“Captain, I'm getting a lot of radio activity from the vessel on several channels, but I can't make any of it out. The translational matrix is having a hard time finding a basis-Captain, they're hailing us,” Uhura finished calmly.
“Open the channel, Lieutenant,” Pike replied. And blinked.
He saw ridged eyebrows, a scaled, sloping neck, gray skin, and a spoon-like extrusion on the center of the forehead.
Part Ib