Several hours after entering the Betreka Nebula, the Enterprise rendezvoused with the U.S.S. Pompeii, under the command of Captain Matt Decker. “That’s quite a luxury liner you’re in command of, Jim,” he commented after they established two-way visual communication, “though I can’t quite get used to seeing a Klingon on the bridge of a federation starship.”
“Two Klingons,” Koloth added, rising from the science station and moving into view. “And you are right, my dear Captain Decker. This ship is quite luxurious.”
Decker rolled his eyes and bit back a characteristically acerbic response. “Jim, my science officer has analyzed the telemetry and come up with a likely route to whatever destination the Orions have inside this nebula. Since we’ve got a smaller sensor profile and you’ve got the more powerful sensors, we’ll take point.”
Kirk acquiesced, aware that as the senior captain, Decker was technically in command here. He was also a legendary captain who would soon receive his own flag to put aboard a ship like the Enterprise. “Agreed, Matt. We’ll proceed at two-thirds impulse power. We ran into a small ambush when we entered the nebula, so it might be wise to slow our pace a little.”
“Ambush? What do you mean ambush, Jim? What sort of an ambush, and how many ships,” Decker demanded.
KadRiQ jumped into the conversation. “A minor annoyance along the lines of a Nausicaan house fly. It buzzed and tried to bite, but it found a diet of photon torpedoes not to its liking.”
Decker chuckled in spite of himself. “One down, five to go,” he remarked. “Well, we’re not getting any younger, so let’s get under way, gentlemen.” He broke the connection and moved his ship ahead of Enterprise and towards their destination.
“You heard the man, DeSalle,” Kirk said. “Follow the Pompeii. Ahead two-thirds impulse power.”
“Captain,” Uhura asked, “what do you think we’ll find, sir?”
“I imagine a makeshift Orion base, built onto the side of an asteroid – or maybe inside one. It should be interesting to see who all is there.”
* * *
On the Purloiner, Spock had just completed mind-melding with his fourth Security guard, a Rigelian ensign by the name of Abassian, who kept rubbing his temples and shaking his head. The action did not go unnoticed by the Vulcan. “Ensign,” he asked, “are you quite all right?”
The young ensign, his face craggy with the deep grooves all of his race receive during the Age of Maturity, and sporting short pale bands that reach out from the temples, forehead and chin towards the nose, stopped his fidgeting and stiffed his posture. “Yes, Commander. I don’t know …”
“You may speak freely, Ensign,” Spock encouraged. The other three crewmen had been easy to control; they were now guarding a group of Enterprise officers waiting for what the voice inside Spock’s head referred to as “corrective reprogramming.”
“Sir, I don’t know. It’s just … something’s not right here. Why are we–” Suddenly, the ensign doubled over in pain. For a moment he struggled to breathe, and then he seemed to regain control. “What does it want, sir?”
Spock, still telepathically tethered to the Rigelian’s mind, began to understand. Rigelians were more Vulcanoid than humanoid; their minds were more disciplined than humans’, and as a consequence, they were more difficult to reprogram.
“It wants us all, including the Orions. It wants them and their ships, and it wants us and the Enterprise as well. In fact, I believe it wants everyone and everything in the galaxy.”
Abassian began to speak but instead shuddered all over as another wave of pain shot through his body. “We shouldn’t … I mean, we can’t just … sir, why?” The pain was so intense that the Rigelian officer feared his eyes would explode.
Spock looked on impassively, wanting to entertain the ensign’s questions but knowing better than to provoke the creature to whom he was linked telepathically. Instead, Spock began constructing a shielded area inside his mind where he could concentrate and meditate without the creature’s knowledge. Reaching over to the shaking ensign, Spock placed his hands in the familiar position and re-initiated the mind meld.
Get him under control, the voice in Spock’s head ordered, or I’ll fill him with so much agony his heart will stop.
Spock nodded inwardly and reopened the link with Abassian, calming the Rigelian’s pain with reassuring thoughts and an order to cooperate. He also implanted a simple instruction, explaining how Abassian could construct a secret compartment in his mind to think without the creature’s knowledge. If they were ever going to get out of this mess, they would need to have their wits about them.
Abassian finally stopped his thrashing, the pain gone, and Spock broke the meld. The Vulcan was exhausted from the effort and needed a few minutes to rest. Apparently, the creature agreed; it did not pressure Spock to continue.
“Ensign,” Spock said, “you know what you have to do. Select one of your men and bring him to me in half an hour. We need to have all our crew ready by station fall.”
“Yes, Commander,” Abassian replied. “What should we do about the Klingons?”
“Leave them in their holding cells for now, Ensign,” Spock replied. “They are too primitive and warlike for us to control. They would try to take over, and when the Creature gave them a correction, they would go mad and kill each other.” Spock noted in his secret mental chamber that the creature did not react; he had been able to convince it that he was being completely honest. What he said to Abassian was not far from the truth; the Klingons’ thirst for blood was well-known in the galaxy.
* * *
The Creature dozed for a brief moment, recharging its energy almost instantly. It had no arms or legs like a humanoid, and only a bare minimum of internal organs, despite its immense size. Instead, it had only a heart/lung organ and a massive brain, which drew its energy from the minds to which it was connected.
The creature used that energy for conquest and to carry out asexual reproduction, in which it was actively engaged. Its zygotes were maturing rapidly; soon, thousands of grape-sized, gelatinous eggs would fly from its cloaca, attaching to any stable vertical or horizontal surface nearby. There, they would spread like teaspoonfuls of syrup, and to begin hardening and growing. Within an hour, the creature would be linked telepathically with each and everyone of them. It needed a new power source for that exercise, and the Enterprise crew was a made to order solution.
Finding the Orions had been fortuitous, the creature thought, as the reptilian Cardassians had proven far too difficult to control for any length of time in any but very small numbers. It would amass tens of thousands of loyal followers first throughout the Alpha and Beta quadrants, and then it would return to Cardassia Prime for a day of reckoning.
To be continued…
