Chapter 23 - Dragon At the TempleMAGNA ROMA, PLANET 892-IV
Superhighways, such as the Divine Julius Throughway in Palus Altus, Aggripinia, fell like toothpicks, from the mere motion of his wings, each like a small province in size. The whole row of teeth in one mouth were alone the size of Nova Caesarea, where the gambling capital of Atlantis City was now done taking bets, for it had joined its namesake in the ocean's depths.
The lightning never fell. On occasion, the creature would land, though. Each foot was now wide enough and heavy enough to crack mantle-plating for kilometers around it. In Aegyptus, an ancient being was shifted free of its millennial tomb.
"Beware, you unevolved human idiots! Beware, for En Sabah Nur has returned to walk among you! Beware - for Apocalypse has returned, to lay claim over destiny itself."
This being had long believed in a pecking order, and a food chain. Both these beliefs were quickly confirmed and then made utterly moot. The dark lord flew wildly and madly through the skies of a world that had quietly euthanized his mutant kind for centuries.
"Now, I shall see what power causes the sheep to stampede, and use both situation and power to my advantage. As I have done since before civilization was formed."
Then, En Sabah Nur saw - he really saw. The one who made eyes go wide nearly felt his leap out of his skull.
"NO! NOOO! You are a legend - a legend, do you hear? I am the only Ancient Destroyer! When they spoke of you, I thought they were speaking of me. No matter. All chaos serves me - even you. This is the Age Of Apocalypse!"
The self-styled master of evolution grew to his largest, most enhanced form, and flew straight at the middle of the monster's scaled chest. When he hit, he exploded and was wiped away at the atomic level, not unlike a large bug hitting a windshield. It was indeed the Age Of Apocalypse - but that Apocalypse wasn't him.
King Ghidorah never even noticed his presence.
As the great tails dragged whole protectorates to ruin, in eternal Rome, Gnaius Claudius Marcus, emperor of a brutal world of slaves and conspiracy, gestured to a servant. He was now quite insane, merely from viewing the news reports.
"Bring me my lyre. The fires have inspired me to compose music. I shall play it as Olympus above crashes to Tartarus."
At the last of it, military leaders were targeting their own cities with nuclear weapons, to spare the people Ghidorah's deadly wrath.
In the City of the Dead, martyred Children Of the Son leader Septimus was disheartened to see how few Magna Romans joined himself, Flavius, and the others. On a world of six billion, only 144,000 souls made it through.
For the Ancient Destroyer, the fall of the Roman Empire had been almost a non-event.
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PLATONIUS
Parmen took the fragment in the palm of his hand. All the Platonians did the same.
"We of Platonius have ever decided our own destiny. Shall we cower nervously in the cave? No, I say. NO! We shall cup our fates ourselves. No snake, nor long empty tube, no one else! We go, regretting nothing, apologizing for - nothing."
With those surprisingly few words, Parmen and his lazy subjects clenched the vase-fragments tightly, cutting their palms very badly.
"Can you feel it? Can you feel what I once felt? The power, to make the cosmos quake?"
Within a day, the Platonius sector was utterly destroyed in a psychokinetic rampage. The Platonians, by then badly infected, tore their corner of the quadrant to pieces. The greatest irony was one worthy of the Greek plays they so loved: neither Ghidorah nor the Planet-Killer ever came near that sector.
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USS ENTERPRISE
In the briefing room, a debate raged around James Kirk. His thoughts were on the children and the galaxy he was feeling helpless to protect.
"These aren't some nameless vorlds on the fringe dying here! These are places ve have been, people ve have known."
"I submit, Commander Chekov, that all the worlds we have observed die, as far back as our original mission, had names, had people who had been there, and who were known to someone. To place greater value on these worlds, merely because of our personal interest in them, is at the core of this current and perhaps final crisis."
"Same as always, Spock! Hear the words, but not what they mean. Chekov only meant that this is the first time so many worlds that everyone would define as major have fallen. And not merely fallen. Gone. No one to help. No place to help them in. I'm a Doctor in a Sickbay, not a Carpenter in the Garden Of Gethsemane!"
"I say we head Bajor way, Prophets or no Prophets. These new bairns can get us there, and deliver a serious pounding to that Longshanks look-alike."
"I'll go Scotty one better. Instead of telling Paul Stiles to clear up the debris blocking the sunlight on the Klingon and Romulan outer colonies, have his group join ours outside of Bajor sector, and we move to win this fight. Let Saavik and Peter do their voodoo there, if need be."
"Hikaru, Jim has considered that. But if this ship alone can't face down Ghidorah and at least survive, then the Excelsior Group is better off joining the last stand at Lycanthros. Having played Comm-Tag with all the interested parties, I can tell you that's the best we can hope for."
As the debate continued, Kirk did something he would never forgive another officer for - the exhausted man fell asleep.
Asleep, he dreamed.
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Young Jimmy Kirk had come to hate his mother's house. But now, as the wrecker's came for it, he saw that he was losing his only true home.
One destructor unit had three cranes, scooping down and tearing apart. The other was like a long battering ram, pushing through whatever it found.
They clashed, and there was a huge explosion. Jimmy refused to run, though, and was impaled by debris. Dying, he staggered over to Spock's house, next door. But the young Vulcan was now openly sobbing, for his home had been wrecked, too.
As he died, Jimmy screamed out.
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As he woke, Captain Kirk screamed out, and all took note. Uhura deliberately let Spock get to his side first.
"Captain, did you sense something? Is that why you screamed, Jim?"
Kirk wiped his eyes.
"Let's just say, Spock, that some dreams are more straightforward in their meaning than others. Tell me - do we have Ghidorah's location yet?"
Sulu shook his head.
"No, sir. Nada. His cloak may be using less power, now, if Peter's theories are correct."
"Wonderful. A foe that only grows stronger. People, I'm going to be obvious and redundant - find him!"
Kirk was still tired, but stayed up for the rest of the meeting. Dreaming, for now, was out.
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THE FABRINIEX MATRIARCHATE
Natira, High Priestess Of the Fabrini, was the last to board Yonada. At this time, she was extremely grateful they had never dismantled their immense world-ship.
"Hear Me, My People! Our world is targeted by the Planet-Killer. The sacred world that our ancestors promised us will soon be no more. In the panic that came with this discovery, many were lost. But even in this sadness is room for hope. Many worlds are being attacked, either by the Mundane Snake, or by the End-Horn that will take Fabriniex. We hie us now to a world that my dear husband has asked we help, by taking on its children. Just as our fathers and mothers sent their children onto Yonada, as the first Fabrini world was taken by the Breen who were Ghidorah's now-vanished hellspawn. We hie us now to Vulcan, then. Though it sickens me to play favorites in this, we do what we must."
As the heartbroken Fabrini got underway, Natira bade her Comm-Manager contact Vulcan.
"Who shall I contact, Mistress? Shall I use your full title, or an abbreviation?"
"Contact the Lady T'Pau. But use no title. Simply make our offer in the name of Natira McCoy. Then contact my Leonard and let him know we are well - for now."
She had consulted her people's vast computers as to what to do in this crisis. They shot back one word only: Flee. No longer believing in their divinity, Natira McCoy nonetheless obeyed, and led her people away from the doomed promised land.
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USS ENTERPRISE OMEGA
David Marcus had heard the words of his newfound father.
"We Kirks are part of something far greater than ourselves. Our abilities reach into a level far deeper and subtler than what you saw Saavik and Peter do. So you remain outside their cabin, and help them to remain undisturbed. The kids keep turning to them for advice, and certain of the crew may want to offer them worship. Also, I'm not entirely certain that we've found all the media stringers on board."
David raised a finger.
"Captain - er, Dad? Isn't it a bit pointless to try and control the flow of information now? In Comparative Lit, I reanalyzed Moore's 'Utopia' and King's 'The Stand'. In the latter one, I was struck by...."
"You were struck by the soldiers butchering media types, like the radio host. That one resonates, David. After all the real horrors I've seen, King's gore no longer frightens me. But his description of a world falling apart while the devil gloats - that remains with every one. No, you are correct. It is pointless to control the flow of information. Our enemies are all gone, and we may soon join them. Ship movements, all that - irrelevant. In fact, keeping the public abreast of Ghidorah's movements, if we could do it, is the ideal, not a problem to be countered."
Kirk pointed to the cabin door.
"But controlling the flow of information on those two is paramount. David, there are devoutly religious people who are, all across what remains of this quadrant, tearing up their holy books and rededicating their temples to those two. Frightened, they are worshipping The Rock."
David shrugged.
"No offense, but that sounds like kind of a kick to me. I mean, raised up to godhood? That's like a dream come true."
Jim nodded.
"For some. But not for them. Peter's faith is not one he speaks of often. But it has sustained him, through it all. He told me he read the Bible to his - to *your* little brother, to keep himself awake in the CarePark at Deneva. Saavik has a deep and abiding belief in creation's path. She once wandered away from me in Norway, when she was nine. I found her, floating on an ice floe, depressed - that she hadn't found Santa Claus. She even had a rational explanation as to how he could be alive after two millennia."
David's eyes showed that he understood.
"So, for them to believe that they are anything special - is a kind of blasphemy? Dad - they are special. The Prophecy is one every schoolkid knows."
"David - special people have plaques. Special they could deal with. They have people praying to them for salvation. Think about how that mixes with your worldview. Now, just keep watch, and I promise, we'll talk later."
David watched him leave, still struck by how close to his own age his father now was. For hours he waited, til he heard an argument inside the cabin. He hesitated, and then got up.
"Well, Marcus - you wanted to know them better."
He went inside, and was immediately thankful that they weren't in bed together.
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As David Marcus entered the cabin occupied by his brother and sister-in- law, he was floored by their sheer presences. He wasn't telepathic, but they gave off something of what they were in Their every movement. They seemed to almost blur, or leave afterimages as they went. As if they weren't quite real. At times, David almost thought he saw wings.
This, he hoped, was some bizarre side-effect of grieving over his mother combined with his not-so-latent desire for the company of his brother's wife.
Their argument was loud, which surprised David, as he didn't think that Vulcans ever argued. Saavik was certainly one. Peter had lived there for eight years. But the argument was not a restrained one. He sat and listened in for a moment, remembering what the Deltans on his mother's research team had always said.
"David, every relationship has several levels, at bare minimum."
"Like mine with my Mom?"
"No, actually that one's rather straightforward."
So David took in what he had to. Anyone who viewed Spock's discomfort level knew that Saavik and Peter were affectionate lovers. Their casual banter showed that they were friends. It only remained for him to catch the rest.
"Guys - are you all right?"
Saavik glared harshly at Peter. "Take your brother's hand - embrace him!"
Peter had his arms folded and his mind closed. "Do not push me, Saavik-kam! You are not dragging someone else into this."
Saavik threw up her arms. From this David gathered that their whole marriage was an active engagement, and would probably always remain healthy, despite the "I Wuv U" aspect many saw in public.
"David, would you please tell your brother that he has a true problem with any form of intimacy that does not involve me?"
David took this all as a mathematical problem, and all he had to do was figure out what X equaled. But in this case, X's value was infinite and its nature would have to be ciphered out on paper.
"Okay. Peter, from your point of view, what validity would you give Saavik's Point Of View?"
Peter looked directly into his wife's face. "David, the views of the INSANE have no validity whatsoever."
David gulped. "Ok - that's an extreme way of looking at it, I'll admit, but Every viewpoint has to be.."
Saavik responded in kind. "David, the views of the COWARDLY are of equally suspect value."
Peter nodded, and gestured towards her. "Oh, I'm a coward, am I? Is that it?"
She nodded in a quite self-assured manner. "Yes, that is correct. Do you deny that you fell apart as the colonists attacked us?"
Peter rolled his eyes and looked up. "Saavik, they were chanting our names, asking for our blessings! Besides, you know better than anyone what people grabbing at me triggers."
Her pointed finger seemed like a held dagger to David.
"Point of Information, HUSBAND! The Admiralty that hurt you is now two years dead. The Hall is gone, remember?"
Despite earlier knowledge caught in passing, Peter's response shook David, more than a little.
"Of course I remember that, WIFE! I blew it up, remember?"
David stood up, at that. "Whoa-whoa-WHOA! Pete - you blew up Admiralty Hall? Decapitated Starfleet Command? I know what those people were, and what they did to you - but to just murder them all like that is placing yourself so far above the law, maybe you should just stop and rethink."
They both turned and looked at him.
"David, they kidnapped me. Killed our grandmother, countless others, and they were the law. If they were alive right now, the coup on Earth would have succeeded."
Saavik nodded.
"Many actions have been taken that we would normally never conceive of. I once killed one hundred fellow cadets, working on the Hall's behalf, as they attempted to kidnap Peter once again."
David questioned this. "How exactly did you kill them?"
"With my lirpa."
"Er, isn't that blunt on one end and sharp on the other?"
"Indeed. Many of my foes I bisected. Others I smashed. Both Peter and I have had to make choices, as time went by. There was the time Peter destroyed Valeris, for example."
Peter put up a hand.
"The time WE destroyed Valeris, you mean."
"That is what I just said."
"No it isn't. What WE did to her, we did out of anger and vengeance, as well as a need for the information she carried. But every time WE discuss it, it becomes what I did."
"Mere semantics, Husband."
He slammed his fist on the table. "No, it's not mere semantics, Wife! You like to play like I and I alone made the choice to destroy her."
David tried to interrupt again.
"Hokay now, who was Valeris, why did you destroy her - and how?"
Peter began.
"She was a young Vulcan who pretended to be Saavik's friend. She was an odd one. Attractive, but kind of looked like a marionette. Had this odd head tilt, too - anyway, she would sometimes make a pass at me, which I wisely elected never to follow up on. Somehow, she was owned by T'Pring - local leader of the Ghidoran Order. She reported our movements, and also set us up for one of the most vicious traps we ever encountered."
Saavik continued.
"There was a device called 'the Unforgiving Minute'. Its effects were quite subtle - and quite devastating. It caused the normal processing of annoyances, quirks, and such to fall away. Within hours, those afflicted would wish to kill those closest to them. There was one trained on our home, and it caused both Sarek and Amanda to engage in highly aberrant, even vile, behavior. And yes, I mean vile by all standards, not merely those of Vulcan. On the verge of finishing one another off, Peter and I heard the unstable Valeris laughing. Freed from her device, we wounded her unto death. Realizing that we needed to confirm T'Pring's hand in all that, Peter ripped through her mind telepathically. He was not gentle. As she was dying, he exploded her each and every synapse. I was disgusted. Eight years later, I still am."
Peter briefly closed and opened his eyes.
"You hypocrite. You utter and complete HYPOCRITE! Tell me, Saavik, did this disgust develop before or after you told me, and I quote: 'Peter, destroy her.'? I was livid. We both were. Are you going to stand there now and claim that you not only didn't know what I was going to do, but that you didn't urge me on?"
Saavik stood, looking a bit wounded.
"Just because we were angry, and I urged you to a course of action, does not mean you should have done so. In the past, I have depended on you to be the voice of reason and strength. You should have merely gotten what we needed, and ended her pain, instead of tearing her apart and magnifying it a thousand-fold."
David was now a bit scared of these two normal-seeming people, his own age and his own family. That they had unguessable powers was relatively easy to handle. But this newest level he had found - that they were partners in war - threw him as few other things could. What kind of code of ethics did they live by? Did they live by any code at all?
"Peter, I have to agree with Saavik here. That frankly sounds like a horrible way to die. Angry or no, her words or no, I think you should have held back, somehow."
Peter almost appeared too calm.
"David, I don't deny that what happened was horrible and wrong. I won't even attempt to justify it by any means. Where my problem starts is - we were both there. Saavik, we were both there. You could have stopped me. But you didn't. So guess what. It's WE who weren't gentle. It's WE who decided to choose vengeance over mercy for that poor addled lunatic."
Saavik shook her head.
"As you have noticed, David, your brother likes to wander off-subject. Said subject is still the fear that seizes him, even when Pop is embracing him. He can become a craven coward with no notice at all."
Peter countered immediately.
"I have my fears. But better a fear of touch than a fear of one's own potential. David, your sister here is a needy, dependent mess who needs constant re-encouragement, or she falls apart!"
David stood between the two titans, unsure if that was the wisest of ideas.
"Alright, we're venturing very far into the words you can't take back category, so let's all calm down - especially me. Oh, and Peter? Saavik is my Sister-in-law."
Saavik nodded.
"And sister as well. Pop is my adoptive father. My full name, even before marriage, is Saavik Brianna Kirk. Did you not know this, David?"
Peter smiled and tilted his head.
"Well, why should he? After all, you didn't tell me until after we had successfully made love for the first time."
"I was waiting for the right moment."
David's head fairly swam at this level to his - siblings' -relationship.
"You two were related - brother and sister - and then you... ohhh, man. I'm headed for the refresher."
Peter shrugged.
"Why? It's not by blood. It's not like Will and Penny."
David looked up.
"Who are Will and Penny?"
Saavik took this one.
"A couple we know in another universe. They were unaware of their adoption until after their carnal relationship had begun."
David looked back down.
"You two are really squicking me out, here."
Peter chuckled.
"Now he sounds like Walter."
"Who's Walter? Another brother?"
"No, Walter is an Immortal, who..."
David stood up, shaking his head.
"Peter, don't bring anymore people into this - it's complicated enough!" David breathed in, and calmed down. "Okay, here's what I have. Peter, you're always running - Saavik, you're always clinging. Is that pretty much it?"
Peter looked at her.
"Do you really think I'm a coward?"
Saavik looked at her husband.
"No. Do you see me as needy?"
"No. But Saavik-kam, you're always looking to me, for answers. To be your strength, your courage. Sometimes it drains me. I love you. With all my heart. But you won't let me in far enough to tap some of your strength. You have it. But like your physical beauty, you keep acting like it isn't there. You endured sixteen hard years before I entered your life. But when you act like it's been all me since then, you short-change and insult us both."
As if a great collision had just been avoided, Saavik stared in wonder at her own cabin.
"I have always thought that if I did not let you be the strong one, you would not need me. I sometimes wonder if you ever have. I mean, I responded to your marriage proposal with a punch to the jaw. But I still draw the best in me from your example, Peter. So it is when you fail, I feel it twice over. Anger seizes all of us. But I was angry when you let it seize you, because I thought you above it. The past haunts us all. But I am haunted by my and your past both. The thought, that anyone could ever truly hurt you...."
Peter nodded.
"Or that anyone had ever made you feel like less than what you are...."
They responded as one.
"Kills me inside."
As they held hands tenderly once again, David saw the last, perhaps most enlightening level of their relationship. They were each other's heroes.
"Guys, I'm gonna go now. But can I offer up two more pieces of wisdom?"
"Sure thing."
"You have been a kind ear, David."
"Ok. First, this sibling thing may be affecting things more than you know. A lot of your interpersonal dealings seem less spousal than older brother/younger sister. Don't let that go - but try to be more aware of it. It may help prevent flare-ups like this, in the future - if we have a future."
Saavik and Peter smiled at one another, and then at the newest member of the family. Saavik asked the obvious.
"What is the second thing, David?"
David Marcus smiled as he walked out the door.
"You two - are nuts!"
On his way around, walking off the events of the argument, David saw his father talking to Spock, and decided to get to know him better, as well.
David heard Spock's voice.
"Jim, all I am saying is that you should not have hit me with the chair."
"Spock - let it go."
David headed back to his cabin, and locked the door.
"These, then, are the people who are going to save the universe."
Finding he could only sleep for an hour, David got up and washed his face, thanking Creation that his life was not as complicated as those of his two siblings.
Briefly, he looked in the mirror, and his jaw dropped.
"Oh - shit."
David Marcus's eyes were now glowing.
"This - complicates matters."
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SCALOS
Deela and Rael breathed a sigh of relief, as did all Scalosians. The crisis had passed.
"Our technology, which forced our metabolic rate to so high a level, has proven our salvation, Rael."
"It had to come in handy at some point, Deela. When Ghidorah's journey is done - Scalos shall remain. For no life may be detected here."
The creature had passed overhead, and then moved on. Seemingly, all was well. Deela even recalibrated her false distress message to draw in fleeing refugees, who would only be too happy to live on a safe world.
Then, it began.
"Rael - you are aging!"
"Deela, we all..."
The final death of the sterile culture happened, as is said, in less than the wink of an eye. Ghidorah had noticed them, after all - and drawn away their kinetic energies. The water on Planet Scalos was now merely water.
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STRATOS CITY , PLANET ARDANA
The city was falling from the sky.
No one knew why.
Was it sabotage?
Was it mere coincidental equipment failure?
Did the twin menaces trigger effects that undid the anti-grav engines?
No one knew.
Droxine made a painting of the descent, as it began. It was nearly flawless, but she wanted perfection as always.
She began a new painting just as the city hit. A wall flattened and crushed her against the large canvas, creating an aesthetic she might well have appreciated.
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THE EXCELSIOR GROUP, AT THE BORDER BETWEEN THE FORMER KLINGON AND ROMULAN EMPIRES
"Captain's Log, Group Leader Paul Stiles reporting. After renaming the USS Andrea Doria the USS Excelsior, and having the other four remaining ships do similar renamings, I feel our luck has increased. We are clearing the debris, most of it a fine, solar-blocking mist of rock, from both the Romulus and Qo'noS systems. It is so thick, we are able to clear much of it merely by passing through at maximum impulse with shields at full. As per CIC Kirk's orders, we are scanning for any and all cultural artifacts, in hopes of giving our shattered former enemies something to pin their hopes on - there isn't much, but if I know my Klingons, then every bat'leth fragment will become a precious heirloom, and have a song attached to it. Romulans are likely less sentimental. But then, the current crisis might well have changed that, as it has changed so much. I pray for the victory of my distant cousin, Peter to my Paul. I pray for us all, in this, the hour of our dea- in this, our finest hour. Stiles, commanding USS Excelsior Alpha."
Paul reminded himself that openly preparing for the worst while hoping for the best was not a comfort a Captain could allow himself. No, he had to be on top and upbeat at all times, even in the face of utter annihilation.
"Mister Martine, any fragments larger than my thumb, in either sector?"
First Officer Angela Martine flipped through her docu-padd, and nodded.
"Aye, Captain. The USS Contact, in Qo'noS outer rim, has found a hardened bunker, and beamed it aboard. Do we give it to the Klingons?"
Stiles nodded.
"Without question. If we want those warriors to board and take over one of our lesser-manned ships, we go carrot all the way."
Both Martine and her Captain noted all the irony. She, devastated by her fiancée's death, career all but dead for 18 years. He, first a member of the Order then later an informer against it, career quashed by two sets of foes. Then, when the orders came to close Starfleet Academy, it was these two who culled those Cadets not owned by the Ghidoran Order. Since so many had been members, senior officers that could be trusted came to be in short supply. Now, they and four of Starfleet's best ships were moving freely through space that, a mere four months back, may as well have been the heart of a supernova. The helm said it out loud.
"Sirs, this is eerie. I keep looking for cloaked signatures, incoming fire - and there's just nothing. What happened to all the hidden colonies, and cryo-warriors, and post-mortem weapons I always heard about?"
Stiles, who once bought into such theories without question, had an answer.
"Whatever part of all that might have been true, Mister Jessup, consider a few facts. Take our own paranoia, the enemy propaganda ministry, add a healthy amount of mistrust - and you have the Klingons and Romulans supposedly spending more on covert, post-Disaster weaponry and schemes than they did on decades of overt armaments. Besides, I can't imagine the Klingons not bringing out everything they had, in defense of their homeworld. Likewise, the Romulans probably kept every secret where they could best control it - on Romulus itself."
"Captain Stiles - the fields are clear. Sunlight is now reaching the outer colonies. But best scans say that they'll definitely be needing the seed and food we have stored."
Helm looked at the console.
"Eerie time is done, sir! Twelve Romulan Warbirds approaching - more still cloaked."
Comm signaled. "Captain, we're being hailed."
Stiles decided against raising shields, and hoped he was not a fool for doing so.
"On screen."
The Romulan who appeared looked somehow familiar to Paul and Angela.
"Federation ship - I am T'Red, provisional leader of the Romulan people. May I say that you humans have picked a damned odd time to extend your domains? Turn back. The Klingons here have no ships, and are under my protection, as per the request of Chancellor Azetbur. We have no will to fight, but we will do what we must. No more lives, Captain, need be wasted."
Stiles remembered what Kirk had told him, and held their guest in reserve.
"I am Captain Paul Stiles Of the Federation Starship, USS Excelsior. The Chief Executive of the United Federation Of Planets, James T. Kirk, has appointed me Ambassador-In-Full to the two great powers of this sector. I have been directed to offer such assistance as you and Chancellor Azetbur request. Already, we have cleared the mist that was once your two mighty homeworlds, that precious sunlight can reach the outer colonies again. May we pass?"
T'Red shook his head.
"My people would think that they were being taken over, and shake off my and all leadership. I believe you mean well, Captain Stiles. But I cannot allow you in, merely on Kirk's authority."
A regal figure, now made to look as he was born, stepped from the shadows of Stiles' Bridge.
"Then what of my authority, T'Red?"
At last, after 50 years, he was dressed as Sri Rihannsu - Emperor over the Romulans. He was Tasorel the Fifth. T'Red nodded.
"I knew you were not dead, despite what they told me. It is good and joyous to see you again - Father."
The man who was once Thomas Sorel smiled.
"My son. You have forgiven me?"
"Had you stayed - the Tal Shiar would have killed us all, Father. Tell me, have I relatives, among the Federation worlds?"
"You do indeed. Your own nephew is The Rock of Prophecy. He and his woman are the means by which Ghidorah will be destroyed. Your more distant cousin is called Spock Of Vulcan, and he is father to she who is The Rock. Our line holds creation in its palms. May I return?"
"Return to us, Sire. We need you. I need you."
To Stiles' surprise, no one tried to arrest Tasorel or kill him as he beamed over. Instead, the Excelsior Group was given free reign to move within the Romulan Protectorate Zone. With T'Red still representing his people, a meeting was arranged with Klingon Chancellor Azetbur. Her attitude was almost shocking.
"Your request would normally be a welcome one, Captain. Our people desire to continue the fight. But I must keep them from doing so. Even with fertility programs, cloning, and even enhancements, my people skirt the edges of genetic viability. If we lose any more warriors, we will be extinct, even in victory. All dishonor will lay upon me. But this must be done. I have no choice."
T'Red nodded.
"We do not seek cowardice. But while we can spare some ships, we must survive in some fashion, not only for ourselves, but for the Klingons, whom we are now pledged to assist in this."
Paul made a gamble.
"Normally, I'd bluster and say that you have to join us. But the truth is, your estimates are dead accurate. So, let me ask bluntly - did your empires have fleets in reserve, that perhaps we can put on auto-pilot?"
Azetbur's fist struck the table.
"WE HELD NOTHING back! Do you think us idiots? As you humans put it, the rainy day finally came around. Even my father had not known of the Terra-Cracker's existence."
Stiles held up his hands.
"Madame Chancellor, no one's accusing you of treachery or cowardice. But if there were such ships - we all need to know. Please. I'll beg if I have to."
A Klingon Guard spoke up.
"Do not beg, human. This generation of Klingons is already damned by what we must now do. Let someone have dignity, at least."
Stiles stopped and thought.
"Maybe you are - maybe you aren't. There may be a way you can help us in spirit. Captain T'Red, I'll ask you the same thing, and I mean no insult by it."
"Captain T'Red, I know!"
T'Red looked behind him, annoyed at junior officer T'Bin.
"What do you know, T'Bin?"
"Forgiveness, sir. But the Tal Shiar colonies - sir, we can go there, now. Their defenses surely died with them."
T'Red nodded.
"Captain Stiles, if I give you certain coordinates, can your ship scan certain planetoids? I believe the treachery of the Tal Shiar can now serve us all."
Stiles called Excelsior.
"Yes, Captain T'Red, I believe we can do just that."
Three hours later, a jackpot of a comm-call reawakened hope for everyone. Angela Martine read the report.
"One hollowed-out miniature moon equals - thirty Tavek class Romulan Birds Of Prey!"
Stiles played his trump card.
"We can equip those ships with an M-5 like computer, programmed with the engrams of those who wish to fight, but cannot. What do you say?"
Azetbur stood.
"To purchase back even this small amount of honor is a dream come true. But I propose that at least one ship from each empire be equipped with those whom we can spare. My people will find this acceptable."
T'Red nodded.
"As will mine. But I further propose that a few children from each empire be placed aboard this mighty new Enterprise that has been spoken of, the better to ensure our survival."
Azetbur nodded.
"As the first I propose Mogh, who is son of the Kthn Cha'DIch- Colonel Worf."
T'Red turned to T'Bin. "T'Bin, I require you to deliver a message to The Rock, Peter Kirk."
"Yes, Captain?"
"Tell him - to be a friend to his cousin, T'Bin."
"Father?"
"As heir of Tasorel, I was watched from birth. Your mother and I agreed to try and spare you and your sister the same fate."
"You are sending me away?"
"I am sending you to fight at his side, as he faces Ghidorah. Tell me, T'Bin, will you fight the enemy? Will you fight Ghidorah?"
"I will, Father. I will."
As T'Bin readied those younger than himself, he met the one called Mogh.
"I am Mogh Of Imperial House Kahless, though I only recently learned this."
"I am T'Bin, Of Imperial House S'Tassk, also lately learned. Mogh?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think as Imperial Heirs, our selection of potential mates will improve?"
Mogh nodded.
"It would seem reasonable to assume that."
While ships were slaved and re-engrammed, and young warriors prepared to stay and go, the hardened Klingon bunker was opened. Martine showed Stiles the contents.
"Everything inside - slag. Except for this disc. Paul, watch the image it plays."
A gigantic, purple-suited humanoid with a horned helmet appeared in holography.
"Captain, all we get is this one loop. We're hoping to get more. Listen to the translator."
Though garbled, the talk could be discerned.
"I am brother, by curse, to the Last Destroyer and the Maw Of Hell both. Men have called me - the Devourer Of Worlds! I possess that knowledge which can, in the right hands, bring a final end to Ghid... I am brother, by curse......"
Stiles nodded.
"I know this cousin of mine who could really use that knowledge, Number One. Do what you have to."
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David Marcus had tried calming himself, by wandering the ship. But even an insightful talk with Commander Uhura about his mother, the late Carol Marcus, had done nothing for his shattered nerves.
Because when he was done, his eyes were still glowing whenever his concentration slipped. So it was that he chose to confront the two people he held responsible. His brother and sister. One half by blood, The other adopted by heart and both happily married. Which was good, because David was not happy.
"So, bro, you decided to remake me in your image? Might've been nice to be consulted, first."
Peter was sympathetic, as was Saavik.
"David, we didn't do this to you. The proximity of Ghidorah triggers a recessive gene in those of the Line - don't ask. Yours took longer to manifest themselves, because you're completely human, and....."
David looked up, from where he was sitting.
"...And you're not? Wait, your Granpa was a Romulan? Wait, how did I know that? Bright Lady? B-but she was only a dream I had... ohhh, boy."
Saavik put her hand on his shoulder. David realized that in making herself attractive to Peter and by fatherly extension, Jim, Saavik had been all set to blow him right out of the water. Family dictates certain things, after all. Her words were at least of some help.
"David, the telepathy is a bit overwhelming at first, as is the psychokinesis. But in time, you will discover that you can do anything with your abilities."
She then slapped his face, lightly.
"Including shielding your thoughts."
David felt Peter forming a shield matrix within his mind, giving David's mind protection - not to mention his face.
"Thanks, Pete. You did warn me to think only pure thoughts. But why do only we three have these gifts?"
Peter sat down.
"In most of us, the gifts are quite subtle, and only manifest themselves in contests of will. This is the reason Dad and I were able to destroy Gary Mitchell, in our times. I was able to duplicate Dad's feat, relying only on the subtle gifts. I'm not terribly comfortable with these things, either. Nor is Saavik."
David mentally saw the battle, and gasped as a Peter who didn't so much as lift a psi-finger killed the god-like Mitchell and the sick Charlie Evans with his bare hands.
"Wow. What about when it was not a contest of wills? Just putting up with everyday garbage?"
Saavik projected her years on Hellguard, then her time on a Vulcan that seemed to have not a single tolerant heart. Her endurance was like a warp core, for it just kept putting out the energies needed to get through. Suddenly, he could no longer imagine sharing her life, for how high a burden he would have to bear. She felt this admiration, and appreciated it.
"Thank you. But it always happens. Someone senses what we are, and tries to destroy or control us."
Suddenly, David understood the fear in his mother's eyes, when he would hit upon some new breakthrough. The fear that, if he wasn't controlled, he would leave her behind.
"So it's endurance? And Will?"
Peter shook his head.
"David, it's... everything. I once met a historian who understood it all, but those very lyrical accounts strained the upper limits of my meager brain. Think hard of all the stories of humans, and how we walked away from where we were supposed to be. Think of the hard vacuum that lies just outside this ship, and how many times our Dad has come back from challenging it. Think of the Lady Amanda, who by herself almost managed to convert a stagnant planet back to its true credo, that of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Or of yourself, who crafted a device that even Ghidorah fears."
"Alright, alright, I'll buy it. But - who is Thorne?"
Saavik nodded.
"Yes, Peter - you have kept this, even from me."
Peter put his head down.
"Operation: Thorne was the Admiralty's last-ditch effort to break me. Even now, I don't like to talk about it. It was my most hard-won victory - and the one I'm least proud of. I was forced to kill someone that my heart tells me I should've given my life protecting. If I say that I wasn't trying to be coy, or secretive, and promise to someday tell you it all - will you both let it go?"
There was no anger from the other two. Not from the concerned soulmate. Not from the confused younger brother, only now awakening to his heritage. By instinct they both trusted that their leader had a good reason for keeping this thing back from them. For it was terrible indeed.
"Done. And done."
"For me, as well, Peter-Kam."
The oldest of three siblings smiled at this trust. But he wasn't smiling long. His eyes, then those of Saavik and David, almost erupted with energies. Peter spoke, his voice all determination.
"Kirk to Captain."
Jim's voice came over the cabin-link.
"Kirk here. Lieutenant, do you sense Ghidorah?"
David had to sit down, as events light-years away played themselves out in his mind.
"My God... he's bigger than ever."
Peter continued.
"Aye, sir. He's approaching Bajor. He'll be there, soon."
Captain Kirk hesitated.
"Peter, Spock and I were contacted by beings who we believe were the Prophets that Bajorans worship. They directed us towards Vulcan, saying that they would protect Bajor. Given that, we are keeping on course for Vulcan."
Peter looked at his wife, and his brother, who both nodded assent at what he was thinking.
"Sir, Saavik, David, and myself are headed for Bajor. I can teleport us. The Prophets have underestimated Ghidorah's pure destructive force. Sir, please..."
The Captain's voice was that of an understanding but reluctant man.
"She told me to trust you, Peter. I would have anyway. But protect yourselves. If the choice is between you and Bajor, consider the rest of the Universe. Captain out."
In the Briefing Room, all stared at the man who had just sent his own children into the heart of an unholy war waged against life by the devil itself. Uhura's look contained what they all thought, even to Spock. They all knew the risks, but still this thought was clear.
"God help you, Captain, if those kids don't return."
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OUTSIDE THE BAJOR SYSTEM
The Pakleds waited, and watched, for any Bajoran ships that might be fleeing the disaster.
"The Bajorans will help us, and then we will take away their ships for us to use."
"Because we are smart."
"And we are strong."
"And we are clever."
Their smiles were self-satisfied. They were not as dumb as most thought. Nor were they as smart as they themselves thought.
All this quickly became moot, though, as the Pakleds saw the last sight any of them would ever see.
"We are not strong."
"We are not smart."
"We are not clever."
"We are meat."
"He is very big, isn't he?"
"Yes. Definitely very big."
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REALM OF THE PROPHETS
"He comes."
"As we knew he must."
"His power is greater than we had anticipated. Far greater. The Dark Fleet alone will not stop him."
"The Rock comes, and with it one who moves as the wind."
"But the events move against us. We must pose the Dark Fleet to counter the Destroyer, til The Rock opens the gates - for the passage, and the restoration in the new home."
"It shall be so."
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ANOTHER UNIVERSE, 2374, AND A QUADRANT AT WAR
The Emissary was now yelling.
"You people keep saying that you are of Bajor! Well, now's the time to prove it! A Dominion Fleet is bearing down on Bajor, intent on depopulating it, and turning that beautiful world into a wasteland!"
Ben Sisko would always wonder at this answer to his impassioned plea.
"They shall be sent away."
The Prophets protected Bajor that day. Countless Bajors, with countless Emissaries. With at least one notable exception, in all realities, the Dominion Fleet was sent - away. But no mortal being was ever told what 'sent away' meant - til now.
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THE ANCIENT DESTROYER UNIVERSE
The Omniversally natured Prophets coated the largest fleet in all creation with a simple shield. The Vorta were protected from Ghidorah's aggressive psychic evil, and the Jem'Hadar saw only enemies. Though they could not protect Bajor from Ghidorah, with the same shield the Prophets kept the Fleet from ever reaching the world below.
So it was with no sense of irony that the Prophets set a seemingly endless Dominion Fleet against the Ancient Destroyer, who had crushed the Dominion native to this reality centuries back.
The Dark Fleet fired upon Ghidorah without hesitation or let. But could they possibly prevail for long enough?
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PLANET BAJOR
The children of James T. Kirk appeared in the middle of the Vedek Assembly.
"I am Bareil Menos, Vedek and leader Pro Tem of this assembly. By what right do you interrupt these proceedings?"
Peter nodded.
"You know me, Bareil Menos. As a child, I was blessed by your Kai, Yarka Devos, as you watched. He then died, as the Prophets had fulfilled their promise to him. Now, I come with the Words Of the Prophets, as Bajor is protected. In its new life, shall new life and hope emerge in a place that has known almost as much pain as this realm. I carry their words, and fulfill in my words their Greatest Promise."
Bareil Menos nodded.
"You Are the Kirk. You Are The Rock."
The Vedek gasped.
"You Are the Emissary."
And in the heavens above, a nigh-infinite fleet was dwindling, little by little. Soon it would be gone.
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THE HEAVENS ABOVE BAJOR
The Vorta's name was Kalienk, and he was unique, in that he had no active clones. Despite this, there were about 7,000 of him involved in this battle.
The First among the Jem'Hadar had no name except First Of All. He was also unique, but there were also about 7,000 of him, and by a likewise figure were all the ships and troops under his command multiplied. But this was by no design of the Dominion.
For the war they had all been created to fight was one hundred years in the future.
For the war they had all been created to fight would never occur.
The Dominion had sent an enormous task force of close to half a million ships, in some cases, charged with conquering the Alpha Quadrant, starting with the destruction of Bajor.
The Dominion had fallen in the late 22nd Century, and was wiped out, down to the last Vorta, Jem'Hadar, Subject, and Shapeshifter.
The Fleet was composed of all the Dominion Fleets from the year 2374, sent away at the fervent request of their universes' Emissaries. In most cases this was a man named Ben Sisko, although in some it was a variety of people, even to a Cardassian defector and leader of the Bajoran resistance named Dukat. Reality is a funny thing.
The reality that all the various fleets now occupied was referred to by some as a funnel reality. In effect, much of the bad fortune spared the rest of the multiverse came to that place. The Fleets had been diverted by the omniversal Prophets to this time and place. Their readings were deliberately skewed, as they poured out of the wormhole. They saw what the Prophets wished them to, nothing more.
For what they faced was not Deep Space Nine, Terok Nor, or any Federation fleet.
"Column One - This is the First! How goes your whittling of this war- wheel's defenses?"
"Column One - This is the First! How goes your attack on this Techno-Wall the Klingons constructed?"
"Column One - This Is the First! How goes your attack on this artificial moon the Bajordisians have constructed?"
Their phasers were all hull cutters.
Their torpedoes were explosive re-spreaders, constantly rebuilding kinetic energy from the explosions around them.
They attacked like wasps on a lone jogger, soaked with sugar water.
They attacked as a great phalanx, hundreds of ships long and wide, firing in perfect unison.
They attacked, and attacked, and attacked, and attacked. It didn't matter, because all their combined power was less than 5% of their opponent's basic output. Worse still, this one opponent was feeding off their energies as they went.
None of the attacking Dominion fleets knew what they were really up against. It was not another fleet. Nor was it any sort of overlarge battle platform. It was a single creature, now better than two megameters in diameter.
But if certain attacks were beneath King Ghidorah's notice, then a fleet this size, with firepower this awesome, was not. Some weapons carried a rather blunt physical impact. In some realities, the Dominion and the Breen, also dead here, had been early allies. These ships had weapons that cut through the very toughest shields.
An astounding part of the armada was lost to Ghidorah's mere movements. His presence itself was a kind of gravity well. As this demonic Atlas shrugged, pilots bred for their flying skills found his scales were no landing strip. Empty space, seemingly safe for emergency repairs, filled up with wings or taloned feet in a heartbeat.
But this loss actually aided the rest of the armada, which learned to avoid Ghidorah, and keep back from him at all costs. The pummeling continued, for all the effect it had.
Bred for their purposes and not for questions, the Vorta and Jem'Hadar readily accepted all the like ships and presences they detected. This odd fact just made them all work more cohesively. Slowly, they bred a strategy by way of Vortan in-species telepathy.
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PLANET BAJOR
In this universe, the Emissary Of the Prophets was Peter Kirk, who along with his wife Saavik, was also The Rock Of Prophecy. For now, though, they, in the company of their brother, David Marcus, addressed the Vedek Assembly.
"The Bajora and their world will be cast into a bold new realm. Certain changes will have to take place. First and foremost, you must abandon your caste-based system."
Bareil Menos seemed taken aback by this, as did they all. But he nodded.
"It shall be as the Prophets say. Emissary, will the last battle take place here? Is this, then, Megiddo?"
Saavik shook her head.
"We who are The Rock do not yet know where Megiddo is. We do, however, know where it is not. This is not the place."
A Vedek cried out.
"The woman speaks out of turn! She should be beaten."
Saavik glowed her eyes at the man, who sat back down. Bareil Menos was glad to see someone put Winn Kosar in his place for once.
"Emissary, we foresaw your coming when the Celestial Temple opened above us, and from it poured the vipers that keep the Ancient Destroyer back, for however long they last. But how will Bajor escape his wrath? And what will this new realm look like?"
Not wishing another pointless outburst, Peter took over the rest of the speech.
"The realm will look like - home. It too, has suffered, and Bajor's coming will be viewed with great hope and joy. There you will encounter - another Emissary. As for your escaping Ghidorah - leave that to the three of us. Vedek, where is your highest mountain peak?"
"Mt. Irbehr, 400 kilometers past the Fire Caves. Emissary, beware the...."
But all three were gone.
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MT. IRBEHR
From their vantage point, David, Saavik and Peter could see the transposed Fleet's battle with Ghidorah. Peter pointed.
"They will last another half an hour, at best. We'll have to use that time to begin. Saavik, the Prophets can only open the wormhole on one side at a time. This will involve energy transactions on every level there is, if we want to keep both sides open. I'll widen the hole enough for the passage, protect Bajor from the side effects, like losing its lunar satellites, and we'll make the last push together."
Saavik kissed her husband.
"I believe it is time we started earning our pay."
David asked a question.
"Wait. What prevents Ghidorah from coming after you two, while you're occupied? Also, what do I do in all this?"
The other two maintained a kind of sheepish silence. Then, David Marcus knew.
"Oh, sure. Give me the easy job."
Peter shrugged.
"You don't have to fight him, David. Just hold him back."
"Oh, is that all? I-I'm trying hard not to be sarcastic here, Big Brother, but what you're asking of me -" David stopped. "I'll do my best. After all, I have the same exact powers as you, right?"
Saavik shook her head.
"No. Your powers are merely of a like nature, not the same nature. But please live, David Marcus. I am quite interested in having a relationship with a brother who is not also my husband."
The others disappeared, leaving David Marcus alone and afraid, but ready to do what generations of Kirks had done before him - put his life on the line for the cause of defending life.
"She's definitely cute - but it might be nice to have a sister. Heh. Takes the End Of Days for me to finally get a real family. Makes sense, in an odd way. Unlike talking to myself."
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A spot was picked, and the battle joined. All remaining ships, and there were well over a million of them, lined up into one perfect phalanx.
As one, they moved, and as one they fired. The impact of their beams opened a wide, gaping hole in Ghidorah's chest. Whatever they thought he was, they flew in, intending to blow up the voluminous enemy from the inside out. One and all, they flew in.
Then the hole resealed. The unspeakable energies inside Ghidorah made short work of the remainder of the Dark Fleet. But that fleet had served its purpose, grim though it was.
In the heavens, unaffected by vacuum, were Peter and Saavik. As they approached the wormhole, a series of red lights approached them in turn. Dark voices cried out against them.
"STOP! You will not be permitted to oppose Lord Ghidorah. We will see to it that his reign joins with ours to burn all within our...."
A beam lanced out from Saavik's hand, erasing the red lights, canceling their existence in that universe. The evil beings screamed as they were shunted out.
"Who were they, Wife?"
"I believe, Husband, that they were called Pagh Wraiths."
With that done, Saavik began a delicate task, guided by the Prophets. Every erg of energy had to be at its own level, its own position, its own transusage.
So she told herself that her 'Pop' could do it, as could the biological father she was only now getting to know. She was bred from both of them, and could use both their strengths to guide the patterns of endlessly diverse particles. The wonder she felt she shared with her husband and unborn child.
Finally, the pattern was achieved.
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Ghidorah attempted to broach the exosphere of Bajor, only to be belted back. Undaunted, it tried again.
On the surface, David was firing off psychokinetic bolts of pure force.
"I have to think, like a warrior. Just keep belting him back. That's all I have to do."
But David's task was a daunting one. Each time he fired, Ghidorah grew better at avoiding the bolts. David wondered how he could possibly miss so large a target. But he was, and he saw the creature almost darting playfully amid the bolts.
"You son of a - YOU'RE ENJOYING THIS? I need a breather."
Feeling drained, David put up a temporary force screen, intending to start firing again as soon as he could. But then he noticed that Ghidorah had stopped gaining ground, and was like a dragonic mime against the screen. Doctor Marcus now realized his original error.
"I'm not a warrior, I'm a scientist. Mom - I think even you'd have to give me a free and clear compliment on this one."
Ghidorah pressed against the screen, so enraged that it did not seek to merely go around it. It too, was draining for David, but nowhere near as draining as the bolts were. He remembered Saavik's words, that said his power was of a like nature, but not the same nature. He couldn't last forever, but he didn't have to. His next words, though, belied any thoughts of easy victory.
"Pete - please hurry it up."
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Peter's task was the simplest in theory, that of merely expanding the wormhole.
But even his mind was hard-pressed to open both sides wide enough for two planets to pass through.
The first task was learning what frequency Saavik had used, and moving deftly enough not to disrupt it.
The second task was recreating that exact frequency - really a convergence of frequencies - on an ever more massive scale.
The third task was confirming that Bajor - both Bajors - were ready to be moved, from the people to the mass, weight, and atmosphere.
The fourth task was beginning the simultaneous movement of both planets. The other Bajor he could be a little rough with, but he had to keep it intact as it went.
Through the wormhole, and into the other place, he saw three men, Captains all. One was dark and tall, looking more like a symbol than a mere man. The second was also bald, or balding, and looked like a Roman Emperor would have, had Rome been a democracy. Was that third man his own father? He couldn't tell.
Peter Kirk summoned up all his will, and performed the first three tasks in one smooth motion. For the fourth, his beloved wife joined him, and they completed the transfer just as David gave out.
To prevent Ghidorah from following, the three joined their reality's native Bajor in the other universe. Peter wasn't even sure anyone would be able to see them, due to differing vibrational frequencies. Together shoving Ghidorah back as the wormhole closed, Peter and Saavik exclaimed as one.
"I Am The Rock."
And so it was that one world was spared the wrath of the Ancient Destroyer. Ghidorah overlooked the surface of the newly-exchanged dead Bajor, and passed it up as irrelevant. It didn't even bother to destroy the world. Its next stops would not be so lucky.
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USS ENTERPRISE OMEGA
Three figures appeared on the Enterprise Bridge.
"Peter?"
Lieutenant Kirk nodded to Captain Kirk. "We did it, Sir! It was under unique circumstances, and with a lot of help, to be sure. But our Bajor is safe in another universe. Score one for life."
Saavik nodded. "We have each learned new upper limits to our abilities. I feel strong, capable, perhaps for the first time in my life."
David chimed in. "That other place we saw was weird. But it convinced me of one thing. Dad - I definitely want to get to know you better."
Jim smiled.
"Same here. Congratulations to all of you."
Spock spoke up, after that.
"Jim, the monster's basic course is now nearly a direct one. Ghidorah, will, within the month, reach..."
Captain Kirk finished the dread statement.
"Vulcan."
One world saved wasn't nearly enough. But the beleaguered heroes would take whatever they could get, in this very dire circumstance. For victories were too few and far between, as thunder rocked the heavens and all the planets.
Next- Chapter 24 - Traditions