Chapter 1 - And the Alpha Shall Be Omega.....2286, USS Enterprise
As a child, Peter Kirk had dreams of riding through the stars at the side of his Uncle Jim. That proved impossible, and only contributed to the heartbreak of the year he lost his parents to the Ghidoran spores on Deneva. But now, he was a grown man, and that minor heartbreak was long past, subsumed in the incredible events of the past 20 years. Now, his dream was to march into the Captain's Quarters and tell his Uncle of the ancient menace that stalked all life. Approach would be everything.
After all, it was almost certain that Peter would have to confess it was he who blew up Admiralty Hall. He had done that for a reason, but that action would surely not help his case before a man with a justly earned reputation for toughness. He could already hear the questions.
"The single worst act of terrorism in the entire History Of the Federation, and you come here and you tell me it was my own flesh and blood behind it?!! All done in the name of some fairy-tale? Bones, what's your analysis?"
"Classic insanity, Jim. Oh, it's common enough, in unstable personalities like his. Life hands him a few hard knocks, and he goes all to pieces. Oldest game in the book - his childhood ended badly, and he transfers his rage over that into a mythical, invisible enemy - that of course, only he can see. Hears voices, dreams. Paranoid Schizophrenic. Sorry, kid. Thought you were tougher than that. Truth is, you're quite weak. Do you concur, Spock?"
"Indeed, Doctor. Legends of Ghidorah have often served as 'boogeyman' to the feeble-minded. Captain, his terrorist action demands General Order 7."
Kirk held up a phaser.
"I must agree. Goodbye, Peter. You have failed to convince me of anything other than your..."
Peter blocked the blue beam that emerged - with his hand. His eyes glowed golden. Kirk, McCoy, and Spock all laughed.
"So you can stop a phaser. You can't stop me, Peter. I was built to crush the Universe, and so far I'm 1 and 0!"
To Peter's horror, the very flesh of the 3 officers merged, and their heads became Ghidorah's. He woke up screaming.
"NOOOO!!!! Uncle Jim, why didn't you believe me?"
Trying to calm himself, Peter looked in the mirror. There, he found no comfort, for his eyes were still glowing, a reminder of the useless power he wielded. Power that could accomplish almost any task - but could never present a challenge to the Ancient Destroyer.
"Don't even think it, Kirk. He'd gobble you up like a piece of holiday candy."
His eyes returned to normal just as his roommate, Lieutenant Ryan Walton, came back from his shift. Even if he had heard Peter scream, he would have thought nothing of it. Walton had been his Academy Roommate, as well. Even though the public-at-large didn't know that StarFleet Command itself was behind Peter's imprisonment and torture, all knew he had been through an ordeal.
"Hey, Peter. How's tricks in the land o'kids?"
"I must be doing a good job. My uncle actually agreed to have dinner with me tomorrow night. I think before he was fearful of my opinion regarding my assignment."
"I don't care if he is James T. Kirk, Peter. If he had made it clear to me that it was voluntary, no way would I play chaperone to 200 varying brats. I mean, Jess and I aren't even sure we want to have kids, just yet."
"You and Jessica Roesch finally tied the knot? Congrats, Ryan! I always knew you two loved each other."
Actually, Peter had always known. A side effect of the psi-enhancing drugs his captors had used to call Ghidorah had left him with an embarrassingly intrusive telepathy that years of Vulcan discipline were hard-pressed to rein in.
"Hold on, Pete. We're not married yet. She's on board, too, though, as junior legal liaison. She gets to tell your Uncle when the PD's about to be broken."
"Not good, Ryan. But I think she'll survive, somehow. Jessica has a way of getting through, as having a relationship with you has proven. So, do you have a date certain, yet?"
"We're hoping for October, but we need your help. Um, would you be Best Man?"
"Would I? Of course."
For Peter, such a light was welcome at the end of the apocalyptic tunnel he had been traveling. To help two dear friends would surely help to lighten his own mood, if anything could.
"Great. Now, can we ask you something else?"
"Whatever it is, I'll do it. After all, sharing that semi-private suite with you two rescued me from those two losers who Admir- who someone glommed onto me."
"Oh, yeah. Bzutchl and J'Epric. Why the Academy ever stuck you with those two is beyond this Information Specialist. Now, the other request is this: Can you get us someone to perform the ceremony?"
"Sure thing. I'll make an appointment with the ship's registrar, and..."
"Pete, we were aiming a bit higher."
"How high?"
"Nice guy, terrific Commander, same last name as you...."
"Uncle Jim."
"C'mon, Peter! It will be the biggest day in both our lives, and to be able to say that Captain James T. Kirk performed the ceremony will be something to tell our great-grandkids about. Now what do you say?"
"I'll ask him. But no guarantees. He's kind of squeamish about performing weddings, since an incident early in his command."
"That's all we can ask, pal."
With that, Peter dressed and left for his shift. It was the part of the day he dreaded. The visiting families of the crew dropped off their kids in the largest recreation area, and it was Peter's job to supervise and watch over them.
"Personal Log. I view my job as three-fold. One, I must keep the very youngest, from 4 to 8, playing nice. I must also keep them from climbing all over each other. The ones from 8 to 12 are okay, and honestly seem more interested in viewing vids or constructing source-tracing fractal holos than anything else. Those handful that are 13, 14, and 15 present a special problem. I have 200 or so kids under my jurisdiction. These teenagers seem intent on bringing even more kids into the world. While I sympathize, I have my common sense, not to mention my orders. Of course, Saavik and I were bonded when I was 18, so maybe I'm one to talk. But however much I enjoyed her pon farr, that was done to save her life. I keep telling myself. I'll say this. They keep me on my toes."
Still trying to cipher out a way to tell his Uncle of Ghidorah, Peter spied two of the more active teens - Peter Preston and Angela Thompson - sitting innocently by a closed door. Smiling, he walked over.
"Oh, uh, Peter. How are you doing? My name's Peter, too, you know..."
"I know, Peter. And you're Chief Engineer Scott's nephew, and Angela here is the daughter of our esteemed Security Chief. Now, while standing guard is a time-honored tradition, would you mind telling me just who is in that closet?"
"Er, yes, sir, I would."
"Angela?"
"She'd kill me, sir."
"Why don't you two go on to the swimming pool?"
The teens both smiled cat-canary specials.
"Yes, Sir!"
Peter stared at them a moment.
"Yes, that sounds like fun. But that area is pretty heavily in use, so you both better wear suits. I'll check in, later."
The two left, completely unnerved by Peter's telepathy, which was secretly at a level most never knew of. He stood before the door, and scanned it, waiting for the right moment to strike. The two inside, he had warned before. While waiting, he thought upon his true dilemma.
All those years had passed, but he and Ambassador Sarek had never been able to tell Kirk - or Spock - that Ghidorah was coming, and that conspirators within the Federation wanted it to come. There were too many members of the Order of the Ancient Destroyer, too widely dispersed in positions of power. Any and all transmissions would be scrutinized. The cultists had demonstrated a willingness to kill anyone who got in their way. So it was that only aboard his Uncle's ship, face-to face, this very night, could he speak upon the quite unspeakable.
In almost any other scenario, there were too many ways that StarFleet's upper echelon and their cohorts could get rid of even a man like James T. Kirk. It was for that reason that Peter and Sarek destroyed Admiralty Hall and the conspirators inside of it. When the threat finally emerged, they, at least, would not be around to deny the obvious.
His waiting done, Peter heard a voice.
"Oh, come on, Sophie. I may never get to do it again. Besides, if we do it this way, there's no possibility of impregnation!"
Peter shoved open the door, exposing the two young lovebirds to the light of day. Nothing had happened yet, but the boy stood in back of the girl, giving Peter a rough idea as to his plea's nature. Their clothes were jumbled in the corner, but not for long. Peter looked at their faces.
"And if you don't do it at all, then there's even less risk, isn't there?"
In the small room were Sophia Tanabe, second cousin to Commander Uhura, and John Leonard Harris, Doctor McCoy's grandson, who seemed quite upset with the interruption.
"Blast it, what are you, the sex police?"
"For you, yes I am. You two want to go out on a date, what you do there is your families' concern. But here, the only call of nature I want to concern myself with is the little ones' potty. Now, find something else to do. And I do mean some-thing else to do - not someone."
"I never caught your name, Lieutenant. My grandpa happens to be the CMO of this ship, and he won't like what I have to say about your attitude. Now, let me have that last name spelled out."
"Gladly. It's K."
"K"
"Next is I"
"I"
"R"
"R"
"K"
"Ok, well, that's your career, pal, unless you just want to back off. Otherwise, Lieutenant Kirk, I'm afraid..."
The color drained from John's face, as the name registered. He gulped, and left. Peter now understood why it required the Captain's nephew to ride herd over this zoo. These were children of rank, but he could trump them all with one name - his.
"Did I look alright?"
Peter saw that Sophie Tanabe had not yet left. The dark-skinned young beauty was addressing him, her British accent coming through loud and clear.
"Er, look alright?"
"C'mon, now. You saw all of me. Am I attractive?"
"Well, yes. But that doesn't..."
"You wanna go in there with me?"
Peter suddenly felt flush. He certainly wasn't going to oblige the 15-year old, but this was a painful reminder of how he spent his 15th birthday, locked in cryo, with the lunatics from the Admiralty chanting to Ghidorah while they performed infant sacrifices. When his body turned 15, after his rescue, the only girl he saw on a regular basis was Saavik, now his ex-wife, working in Engineering. On more than a few occasions, Peter was reminded that his social life was a prime casualty of his crusade against the Ghidorans. Sophie's untoward request made this one of those occasions.
"Maybe in 5 years, Sophie. Do you know how old I am? Despite cryo, I'm 31 this December."
"I don't normally ask that, Peter, it's just..."
She grabbed him by the collar and kissed him on the lips. Then, she yelped from a sharp pain. Demora Sulu stood next to Sophie, arms folded and smiling.
"Back off, witch! He's mine!"
Peter Kirk had to keep from laughing his head off at the sight of a jealous 11-year old picking a fight with an amorous 15-year old. Sophie stared hard at Demora.
"You take a lot of chances, little girl!"
"So do you, lady! So do you."
As Peter's head shook, the spectacle got more ridiculous. The girls in the room sided with Demora, while the young women sided with Sophie. The young men in the room all shot Peter daggered looks, while the boys started fighting amongst themselves.
Having had enough, Peter accessed his power. His eyes glowed like stars as he telepathically seized control of their minds and telekinetically seated them in the story-chamber. It was a disgusting tactic, he knew, but each day had been just a bit more trying than the last, and he could not afford to let his Uncle off the hook again. Quite literally, the Universe was at stake.
"All right, kids, it's storytime, but I only know the one story, a very old one, and it goes like this:
"Hear Ye, Now, Hear Ye, Know! It's Thunder In the Stars You Hear; There Is A Name For That You Fear; For now Comes Ghidorah, out from the skies; BEHOLD, THE ANCIENT DESTROYER! Then Die."
Peter had dropped the telepathic lock, but the children, oldest to youngest, all sat in rapt attention. They knew a good story when they heard it.
"Now, in those times, it is said that there were two races of sentients, who hated each other, and the Universe that spawned them both. To perpetrate that hate, one race forged the Maw Of Hell, like a Dark Cornucopia, a knife through planets. The other forged something far worse. Through a mix of genetics and the black arts, they made Three- Head, whose name would be King Ghidorah. Even to the oldest of all known peoples, he is known as the Ancient Destroyer. And, yes, King Ghidorah is real."
Later on, Peter would think better of choosing this audience for his grim tale. But for now, the release was too invigorating to shut down. Like it or not, these children would hear this story. Later still, they would live it.
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On the Bridge, Will, the youthful First Officer, often known to clash with his Captain on the subject of away missions, looked over at his ex-girlfriend, the Empathic woman who was the object of so many men's fantasies.
"Commander."
"Status, navigation?"
"Good as gold. Smooth sailing, as they say."
The talkative Science Officer stepped in on cue.
"I fail to see how Gold, which has not been in use as either currency or manufacturing material for some decades, enters into our navigational status. Further, it is simply stated, that the Enterprise does not sail."
"Will, could you explain it to him? I haven't the patience."
"Ok. Look, it was just another figure of speech. Can we leave it at that?"
"But, Commander, these figures of speech are chiefly useful only assuming preternatural immersion in the human culture. I have had no such immersion."
"I thought Chekov had finally drilled through to that computer brain of yours."
"Will, be fair. His brain is not a computer - exactly."
"My brain is not a computer at all, and I fail...."
The Captain walked onto the Bridge, ending the discussion.
"Status, Number One?"
First Officer Will Decker acknowledged Captain James T. Kirk, as did Deltan Navigation Officer Ilia and Full Vulcan Science Officer Xon.
"Nothing from Starfleet, sir. The Klingons are considering Ambassador Spock's counter-offer in the Peace Talks, and even the Romulans are silent, with no Warbirds sighted along the Neutral Zone."
"In other words, Will, no news is good news. After my shift is done, I can have dinner with my nephew, finally."
"Has he told you what you wish to know yet, Captain?"
"No, Number One, he hasn't. But I remain convinced he knows more than he's told me about his kidnapping."
"Captain, would not Ambassador Sarek, who has cared for your nephew these 8 years, be a logical source of information, being Lieutenant Kirk's rescuer?"
"One would think so, Xon. But he's been as close-mouthed as Peter. Plus, Amanda said he's off on yet another terraforming mission. Strange that he should resign his Post like that, to take up another life."
"Captain, I like Peter. But he radiates pain. Plus, a grim aura surrounds him, like a dark cloud in a sunshine-filled sky."
"Thank you, Ilia. But you have to understand. My father was killed on the 1st Vulcanian Mission the day Peter was born. Then, the cell- creatures came, and took his family, both parents, and a baby brother. Add to that mix the madness that claimed all the other Denevan survivors, my mother's still-unsolved murder, the kidnapping, and you have..."
Will Decker spoke up.
"You have a remarkable young man whose every bit as brave as his name implies, sir. Not to offer false praise, but I would have cracked, myself. I mean, I was a wreck when the news about Dad and the Doomsday Machine came down."
"You're every bit Matt's son, Will. Losing his ship broke him. It would have broken any Commander. But thank you. I like to think my - nephew is special. Ilia, has he forgiven me yet?"
"For his assignment? Yes, Captain, I can sense that much. But on Delta dumping such an assignment on a blood relative is a very severe crime."
Kirk saw that she was smiling.
"Remind me not to vacation on Delta Prime. Well, at least there's the Space Traveler's Dream - nothing going on, anywhere in the Quadrant."
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In his quarters, Hikaru Sulu listened to jumbled audio of the day he lost his Command, the Cooper, to Tholian forces.
"Cooper, do not withdraw!"
"BUILD! HE COMES!"
"Command, this is Cooper! Tholians are acting insane. Colony on Terazed built right over by Tholian crystals. 200, 000 Federation colonists are all dead, their bodies crystallized."
"BUILD! HE COMES!"
"Cooper, do not withdraw! Hold this line for the Federation. That is a Direct Order, straight from Admiralty Hall!"
"Command, this is Sulu. Do you understand our situation? It is projected that at their present rate of crystalline reproduction, the Tholians will soon die as a race! This sector need not be held. They've exhausted their resources in this building frenzy. Their Queens are all dead!"
"BUILD! BUILD! HE COMES! HE COMES!"
"Cooper, if you withdraw, this will send a signal to the Federation's enemies that suicide tactics work. You have your orders, Captain!"
"Captain Sulu?"
"Withdraw, Ensign. Now. My Authority."
As promised, StarFleet promptly demoted the Cooper survivors - all six of them. The Tholians were indeed extinct, as dead as Sulu's career, despite the personal pleadings of Captain Kirk. As further insult, all Kirk's requests got him was a well-qualified helmsman. Sulu tried not to be bitter, but it was a struggle. He had asked another person with reason to be bitter how to cope.
"Peter, how do you deal with the hand life has dealt you, and maintain your self-worth?"
"Captain Sulu, let's just say I found a project that keeps me occupied, and leave it at that."
Hikaru was broken from his reverie by the sound of running feet. It was his 11-year old daughter, Demora. She was crying.
"Hey, Lumpie. What's wrong with that pretty face?"
"Daddy, Peter said he's coming to get us!"
"Who's coming to get us? Your dad'll stop him, dead in his tracks!"
"No! No one can stop him! He's the Ancient Destroyer!"
Sulu held his little girl, angry that Peter Kirk would tell such a dark old story, an anger that would be felt around the ship very soon. But he also felt fear in his own heart, and said a single word.
"Ghidorah."
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Above Romulus, curled up in a fetal ball, was the Romulan Senate's prize.
Of forty-six ships that had towed Ghidorah with their tractor beams, only two remained, the other forty-four taken by the strain. One of the two remaining was commanded by T'Red, who was and remained skeptical that Ghidorah could be bent to their will. Next to him, on the Bridge, stood J'Len, a Tal Shiar agent, who was in his glory.
"You see, T'Red? We got him here, and those lost ships will be paid for by the families of their crews, for failing the Empire. We have him! Ghidorah is above Romulus."
Knowing that sarcasm was lost on the vapid Tal Shiar, T'Red smiled a false smile.
"J'Len, my heart joys at the sight."
Below T'Red was also the sight of his beloved homeworld. He drank in the view, quite fearful that it might well be the last time he ever saw Romulus. Outside Romulus' orbit, the creature was as yet dormant - for now.