Chapter Eight - Hail To The King Of The Evil Dead, Part Three
December 8th, 2255
He floated in hard vacuum, awaiting his death. For any other man, it would have occurred when the starship surrounding him, the late USS Constitution, had been destroyed.
The creature had flown off by then, although George doubted its wings had anything to do with its locomotion, either in or out of a planetary atmosphere. It was big, though. A whole damned megameter in diameter. Three heads, just like the legends always said. One gold, one steel, one grey. They fired lightning. Bob April's crew had been the best on Admiralty Hall's blacklist. But King Ghidorah was the Ancient Destroyer Of Myth.
George tried to imagine he could hold his breath forever. But suddenly he saw a small boy with a monkey's tail and a pole walk past, very casually.
"You might as well let go, Mister. If you can't fight him anymore, why bother? In life, I was almost as strong as you. My people all grew to giant size, and my hair got gold, like in the legends."
The boy looked dejectedly at the 'ground' beneath him.
"We all still died. Now I don't even have a name."
Whether it was an illusion brought on by oxygen deprivation or very real, the boy was right. George died then, the job for the over-man done at long last. The boy was still there--as were countless--literally countless--others.
"His victims?"
The monkey-boy nodded the head he didn't have.
"Yeah. My people thought they were so big and rough. They destroyed worlds, sometimes. But I guess we learned not to be such jerks. Are you from Earth? I was supposed to be sent to Earth, but that never happened."
The train of spirits seemed to follow the path of the beast, waiting for the innocent fallen to join their band. George looked for another path.
"Look! A house of some kind."
The absurdity of this afterlife did not deter George from heading towards the house at breakneck speed, if he had a neck to be broken.
"Who are you, little fella?"
A baby that looked so like Jimmy was seated in front of the small house. George realized.
"You're my grandson."
The house showed markings saying it was owned by George Kirk, Senior. It was all in the baby's sweet mind, but it was real to the spirit who now had a home.
"At least I don't have to follow that ugly monst.."
Behind him, George and the baby saw them. Endless rows of aliens, humans, and beings that seemed neither, both, and everything and nothing at once. They were the just and innocent fallen of Ghidorah, and they watched their newest member be given the home they could never have, til the monster was slain. The baby teared, cried out, and the non-ground around them shook as though in a 9.7 landquake.
When George looked again, the small house meant just for him had been replaced by a shining city on the hill. It went on forever, and it was a home for all the lost, wandering souls, some of whom had been wandering since time began, or perhaps even before. Strong, sturdy faces wept in joy. There was a name of an Earth city, holy and ancient. George refused to utter it, for if this was the astral version of that place, then what did that make his grandson?
He then saw her. The Bright Lady held the baby, and smiled before hushed, reverent crowds.
"A very wise man proclaimed his follower to be the one to build the world anew, and called him Peter. A smart man hid his true nature and learning and power from his wicked family til he was acclaimed an emperor, and he was called Claudius. A Church is a sanctuary, a safe haven of holy ground. In some places, this word is pronounced Kirche...or Kirk."
George smiled, too. If it couldn't be him, then perhaps this baby was the one. Lady Jean finished.
"Rock To Redeemer He Has Come. Not Anointed, but the bearer of burdens. He is charged at his birth, and his wife at hers, with the slaying of the slaughterer. Come at our Rock, O Ghidorah! For upon that Rock shall those teeth shatter like merest glass!"
On Deneva 3, Sam and Aurelan both awoke screaming, and ran to their newborn son's crib.
This was not to be an ordinary boy.
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2258
He walked the streets of a colonial paradise, staggered from infections and a lack of food. The last great hope of the universe was dying at three years of age.
"Please--I'm so hungry."
No one would help him, in this land of plenty. Living or dead, the boy could be legally made their responsibility, and no one wanted that.
He lay where he fell, burning with an easily curable fever, til one good man found him, and raised him up. Peter was shivering.
"Don't be afraid, son. I'm a friend of your grandfather's."
"Granpa Tom?"
"No, not Doctor Sorel."
The big man had a kind face, and sent the boy on a transport to Earth, there to be healed and then cared for by the Kirk family guardian.
Later that day, the visitor found Sam and Aurelan's house in wholesale disarray. A malaise had drifted over the colony. No parents were interested in their sacred charges anymore. The dolls were not sitting quietly on the shelves anymore. Like kindergarteners entering the 1st Grade, they learned that however exhausting the initial step had been, the next ones made it seem like the Garden Of Eden. The babies now had questions, and needed guidance. Building a paradise, instead of merely a good home, had wiped out finances and depleted lifetimes of motivation and energy.
The good man found Sam and Aurelan atop each other, while their son was starving. Angrily, he pushed them off, and pointed.
"Sammy, Relly--please thank God George didn't live to see this sorry day. I've called in Heichi Nogura from Starfleet Colonial Affairs. Deneva Three is now officially under full review for planet-wide child abandonment!"
He was the father of one of the most evil men Starfleet or The Federation would ever know. But Tomas Cartwright was nothing like his son Brock.
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Later that same year
Putting a planet under a full review was one matter. Figuring out how to alter the matter that brought it under review was quite another. So Colonial Affairs hired a series of consultants to talk across Earth's colonies about a possible solution to 'founders' exhaustion' as it was euphemistically called. They said they could get the job done, so Starfleet didn't ask a lot of questions. Nogura was a good man, but such reviews, he felt, should not be in his department's purview.
They should have asked questions. A lot of questions.
"Your children are a fabulous untapped resource. Children in feudal and frontier times handled much more work that these kids do. They can handle it again. Give them that chance. Give yourselves a break. Cut down on automation bills that--let's face it, never do go down. Let them give back to the people who gave them life. Take back some of your leisure time. You deserve it. Two rules : However much they can seem to handle, they can handle more and more and more. And don't hit or threaten--withholding hugs and kisses will make your property your indentured servants. Folks, without such a permanent serving class, you who built this colony will have to continue working until some government-mandate retirement. Take back your lives. They still have theirs to live--but not for a while, if you play your cards right."
The motivational speaker stopped to see Sam when he was done, and answering questions.
"Doctor Kirk? I hear tell you have quite the little workforce already."
"Umm..yeah. Peter has learned to cook and clean for himself. He..doesn't seem to need us, the way he did."
The speaker pulled him aside.
"Look, this thing of ours is really going to be linchpinned by your boy. Folks already know he can do for himself. So have him do for you and the Mrs. People will need someone to point to, to get their own junior workforce motivated. Also, good hard work keeps extra energies from making a kid's life complicated. You know some kids, suddenly running off on crusades and such. Chores keep them at home. Where your average boy should be. Help everyone out by helping yourselves, okay Sam?"
Sam nodded, but asked a question.
"Sir? I'm sorry to say, I never caught your name."
The overly gregarious speaker grinned.
"A pleasure meeting you, Sam. As to my name--guess. I hope you figure out both it and our little game plan."
A moment later, he was just gone, and Sam gave in and asked Aurelan.
"His name? Sam, he said his name was Randall Flagg."
Another parent walked up.
"He told me his name was Linoge."
"He told me he once ran a curio shop in Maine."
One last comment chilled Sam into dropping the subject and thinking of his game plan with Peter.
"The only thing I got out of him was that he likes Goethe."
December 8th, 2260
A birthday party was a big deal for children on Deneva. For all children on Deneva. It was six hours away from maintaining the superstructure of paradise. So the light glares that followed each mind-numbing order went away. As did the mutters, mumblings, the grumblings, and the tears. No one wanted to be excluded. Children as old as ten attended the parties of five and fifteen year olds. Bullying was not heard of. Most kids felt below the surface there was another enemy. Teen pregnancy or for that matter, teen sex was not an issue. School nurses gave weekly scans of orifices, fingers, and just about everything. Violators were loudly announced to everyone.
Peter Kirk was secretly whispered about by the others. They couldn't break him, not with chores, not with schoolwork. Yet on his 5th birthday, he would at last break and in turn break other things, some forever.
The candles were blown out, and the prop-serpent with three heads broke through the cake. Sam was laughing. The kids weren't. His kid wasn't.
"Dad, why? I spent a lot of time making that cake."
Sam placed his hands on his boy's shoulders.
"Some surprises are nice. Others aren't. That's one lesson of life, Peter."
Peter walked away, and put on his coat.
"I love you, Dad. But I can't figure you out anymore. Goodbye."
The sight of the little boy walking away brought memories of Jim, and the days away he would spend clear of Brianna's fists.
"Hey! Where do you think you're going?"
"Out."
The absurdity of the sight had the interest of all the guests. Parents stared nervously at their free labor force, and conscience began to reawaken. That was quickly slapped down, though.
"Hey, Kirk! Stop him. You want to seed a revolt?"
Five men joined Sam in blocking the boy's way. Six men fell like they had no strength at all.
"Now you can take care of yourselves."
One of the parents seized Aurelan.
"Dammit, what are you raising there? Are you trying to break the system?"
Relly pushed her off, grabbed her coat, and glared at Sam.
"Honey, these parties are the fucking pressure valve for the whole planet. Of all the puerile jokes, why ruin the cake?"
Sam rubbed his sore arm from where Peter had struck it.
"It was only a joke. He's just like Jim. No sense of humor."
Aurelan grabbed that same arm, and held it fast.
"No, you're the joke. We have it good here. You can do your research. I can pursue my hobbies. So what do you do? You make what makes this life possible run the hell away! Sam, he's not like other people. He could last out there for years!"
She knocked him down, reminding the grown man anew that both his thin wife and his school-age son possessed many times his strength.
Aurelan found Peter more kilometers away than she could easily account for. Any effort to sneak up on him proved futile.
"You're scared of me. Go away."
She looked up in a tree that simply had no low-lying branches. She shook that he was getting ideas.
"Peter, please come down, honey."
He jumped, and almost appeared to float before landing. He took no note of that. It was simply what he did. Like breathing. And chores.
"You're just gonna tell me that Dad is like that."
Aurelan tried not to gulp. Had things gotten that bad? Had they in five short years cycled through all the bullshit excuses their own parents took a quarter century to use up?
"Well, he shouldn't be. But he is. Just like I push, and yell. Just like Grandma Bri hits. Just like Uncle Jim explores."
It took Aurelan a moment to realize that only one person on that list came off well.
"Dad looks over at me, and its like he's looking at someone else. Someone he's confused about."
How did he know? Why in hell wasn't this kid an ordinary child, with no goal but to get the approval of his parents?
"Peter, come back home. We need you. You're important to us."
Aurelan tried hard to fight off the thought that she couldn't physically make him go back.
"Mom, you promised that I wouldn't have to do these chores for too long. But I do them all, and now I've got school, too. I'm getting tired. I know I could do a lot more, if I just had time to sleep."
God, No. He was like George. Or Jim. Or both.
"Peter, we just need you to keep on a little longer. Dad and I had trouble growing up. We just need a little more time, and we need you to help."
The boy looked out at the horizon, as had Kirks before him.
"No. I belong someplace else. I'm waiting for someone. For some--thing."
Aurelan thought of a home without her son. The thought was hard, but possible. But the thought of growing up suddenly made her give up an ace she had thought to hold until his early teens.
"You said your Dad sees someone else when he looks at you. If you come back, I'll tell you who that is."
The boy breathed in.
"And why?"
Aurelan nodded.
"And why."
And on the long road home, she told him. But she also promised herself to make damned sure her boy remained dead tired.
"Thanks, Mom. You know, when you just talk to me and tell me things like that without shouting or stuff, you almost remind me of Aunt Nyta."
She wanted to scream, and tell him to forget Nyta Uhura. But he likely never could, and besides, she had just barely gotten him back home. Sam saw them, and wanted to hug his boy, til he recalled that the place needed to be cleaned up from the party.
"Relly, how'd you do it?"
She took Sam into their room, unzipped him, and lip-locked his privates as she almost never had before. She did a breast-rub of his entire region, and then bent herself over farther than he knew she found comfortable, to be taken from behind. When it was done, the question remained.
"That was---my God. But how did you convince Peter to come back?"
She had gone to great lengths to make him feel like a man. But it wouldn't help.
"I told him a secret."
"What secret?"
She closed her eyes. The cleaning activity could be heard outside their room.
"I had to get him back. So I told him about your sterility."
His soul drained as she squeezed his hand.
"I told him that Jim is his biological father."
She fell asleep in his arms, and as a numbed Sam heard the dishes and silverware cleaned, he again wondered why fate hadn't simply castrated him outright.
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2261
Like adults waking up from a bad dream, Sam and Aurelan had tried to take up the tasks that parents are supposed to. Like converts to a new faith, they held out against the admonitions of other parents who didn't want to disrupt what they saw as a good thing.
"My kitchen. My house."
Like children trying their best to help Mommy and Daddy out, the two had re-learned exactly how much work was involved in simple upkeep, and then retreated to their room. Sam looked out over what could only be called wreckage.
"Peter, we...."
"Go."
The little boy turned the sonics on full blast, so to mask the tears of another broken promise. The older couple felt only a little of this that day. They felt nothing of it by week's end, when the house was restored.
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2262
She checked the work, and then she checked it again. It was close to flawless.
"Sam, we're getting complaints. They've seen him playing."
Sam wanted to shout that a child who completed his chores should play. So, he knew, did Aurelan. Yet perhaps having been a bit off their entire lives, the Kirks knew that this situation could not endure. The other, formerly normal parents were new to such innate selfishness, far too new to have any real hope of shaking it off. The bottle Peter's legal parents drank from the others had already drowned in.
"We'll add the yard work. Increase his home studies."
"Sam, we both know that won't be enough. Do we want a normal life for him? Or whatever agenda the Line has planned?"
Sam went back to his biophysical studies. The grant as infinite, but it required attention to detail.
"Then we'll withhold hugs and kisses to once a week, til he learns about showing off."
The Line. He hadn't even thought to ask the Bright Lady what it all meant, who Peter really was. Because he was deathly afraid she might tell him.
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2264, Earth
Uncle Heichi spoke to Sam, Relly and Brianna.
"As you know, the death of his wife has left Chris Pike in a bad way. He's made it plain that when Enterprise returns for the first stage of its grand refit, he will leave the center seat. Jamelberet was not just his Number One, or his wife. I'm not going to fight him on this."
Perhaps Nogura knew something about Deneva, or about Peter. He had ordered his godson taken to his secured private quarters in Starfleet HQ, under monitor and guard. He had muttered something about Klingons, but he had been looking at Admiralty Hall when he spoke.
"The reason I asked the three of you here is support. I want you to be part of the public ceremony when I name the new Captain of the Federation's flagship. Congratulations, and my only regret is that George didn't live to see this day. Sam, will you hand Chris's saber to your brother, in your father's name?"
Sam barely looked up. A wellspring of resentment came at him from seemingly nowhere.
"Sure, why not? Why not watch, as Jim gets his? Why not watch, as Jim finally becomes a superhero? Why not watch my little brother get raised to the heavens, his brilliance proclaimed to all? Tell me, Uncle Heichiaro? SHOULD I KISS MY BROTHER'S FEET, OR JUST HIS ASS?"
Sam would have apologized or explained himself in some fashion, but some cunning people take opportunities as sacred things.
"George Samuel Kirk, Junior! Admiral Nogura, our dear old family friend, who served under your dear late Father, has just very graciously informed us in advance of Jimmy's promotion to a very important, very prestigious post. His lifelong dream, really. You'd do well to put aside petty childhood jealousies and wish your brother--who just thinks the universe of you--well as he begins a new life. He's earned this ship, Sam. Try and show decorum. Try and be happy for him, for me, if nothing else."
Nogura dug it in further.
"Sam, I think you should listen to your mother. And while you're boning up on decorum, try mustering a little class, Mister!"
Nogura would learn later that year just what his old 'friend' Brianna really was. But for then and there, Sam sat in helpless, silent rage as the multi-faced monster got him once again.
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2265
Christmas can be a wonderful, redemptive, joyous time of rebirth, hot chocolate, Currier&Ives, 5001 versions of Mel Torme's 'The Christmas Song', old feuds settled, and childrens' best wishes granted by a white-bearded jolly man who just might secretly be the real Saint Nicholas.
But this is a horror story. And it only ends in December, it doesn't begin there.
------------ JANUARY 7TH
Aurelan caught Sam's hand, and threw him back. His look was pure rage, before settling down to mere disgust.
"If I could, I'd kill both you and Jim!"
She held him down. Her enlarged stomach was now obvious.
"Well, you'd kill me, anyway. Jim thinks you wanted this one, too. Now, will you listen?"
He pushed her off, and shrugged.
"Sure, why the hell not? Its not like I have a say in this."
Relly looked down.
"We both had our say. We moved here to get away from Bri, and a corrupt system got put in place while we watched. Now, our son is going to have to be a father himself before he gets to have his childhood. We're in too deep, Sam. We can only work through this. We can't get out of it."
He pointed at her stomach.
"Then how does another child solve anything?"
She pulled out a small bound book.
"This belonged to my witchy pal, back in the day. It contains binding spells. What this book doesn't do, the baby will. Peter is leaving our ability to control. This will take him back."
Sam remembered a confrontation. A standard punishment of no hugs or kisses for a week met with a wholly startling response.
*So what? I'm not getting anything until I'm twenty-eight, anyway.*
A list was pulled out. The still-boy showed the in-theory-man a compilation of the piled-on punishments. The weeks, months and days all added up. They had no moral authority with their son. They had no physical authority over him that meant anything. And they had begun to use up the affection he held for them.
"Relly, just how badly have we fucked things up?"
She looked at her man with sad eyes.
"Prolly not as far as we're going to."
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April 15th
Aurelan was in her eighth month, and had received a startling visitor. Just not necessarily a wanted one. To keep Peter out of the loop and probably to annoy Sam, they spoke to each other in their native tongue. That tongue was Romulan.
*Dad, I just think its a little late for apologies. The game has moved along.*
*Our game, T'aurelan? Our game is never done. There is distance, yet affection is constant. As so for your mother. Even after her dissolution and loss.*
*Mother? Was mother Harold or Helen? I am birthed of a freak.*
*You were born of a great love. Its embers began to cool, but from there you began. Harold, Helen, Tasorel, Thomas. We two made you.*
*I was made wrong. And you were not in my sight. This should continue.*
*Bluntness, daughter. I am here for the boy. He knows little of me, and his eyes are heavy. You bore many burdens, T'aurelan. Yet I fear he bears more.*
*You will not have him. His place is here. We wil hold him to us unto death, and then past, if such will be allowed.*
*My mistakes are many and great, T'aurelan. Do not repeat them next to your son, as I comitted mine far from you.*
In the kitchen, Doctor Daystrom wolfed down a third grilled cheese, and pointed at the cook.
"Someday, Peter, you won't have to do all this. You'll speak into a machine, and out will come a perfectly toasted ham and cheese sandwich."
The boy was trying to be polite and coherent. He was confused by all the talk of Granpa Tom's 'special friend' and 'close associate', Richard Daystrom. All this time, he thought sure they were lovers. But he was just a kid, so what did he know?
"Sounds good, Doctor. But I guess we'll always need something to do."
Daystrom snorted.
"Heh. Kid. We--will think. Strive. Turn ourselves to the higher, loftier pursuits."
Peter was now hearing some version of this for the seventeeth time. He responded out of turn.
"Sounds really boring."
Daystrom didn't like kids. He and Thomas Sorel had argued over the few visits Peter made. He also didn't like to be contradicted.
"Just what ship does your uncle command? Because I have this project..."
Thomas Sorel left abruptly, and bid Daystrom come with him. Well away and outside, the former Romulan Emperor gave commentary.
"She is much like her mother."
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May 1st
Peter took the newborn into his room, now their room. His eyes sparkled for the little one.
The Enterprise was on its way to the Galactic Barrier, but Jim had managed a two-hour stopover to see his third biological child. Despite powers and insight, Peter could not see the conflict in the eyes of the mustard-tunicked near-god. Kirk was beginning to feel like a sperm bank for the brilliant but off-center women of the galaxy.
Now Peter Claudius Kirk was alone with Marcus Aurelian Kirk, named for his mother and a woman who bore Peter an unknown half-brother. And he made a solemn vow.
"Its going to be different for you."
In their room, Sam and Aurelan ground up the rib that had been removed from Peter on false medical grounds. They sprinkled the powder on a small amount of little Marc's newborn blood. Aurelan chanted while Sam shook the urn gently.
"The new is a binding on the elder. He shall not think, save for this one's preservation. Through the new, the elder has no thoughts but that we give unto him."
The urn shattered, and both of them were cast back. Aurelan sneered.
"Dammit! He'll be more amenable to suggestion, but ultimately, he'll fight back. He wasn't meant to be controlled."
Sam was tired of others forming ideas, and read through the wiccan book.
"Alright. Its time we stopped flying blind. O Bringer Of Messages, Tell Me True Of The Boy Peter Kirk. Let Objects Fall, To Mark This."
The bookcase with its ancient bound tomes shook, and three books fell down from it. Aurelan stared.
"I never read that spell."
Sam felt a rare chance to be one-up on someone.
"That's because its simple. You always look for the moon-banishing ones."
They gathered up the three books. Each one was telling. Aurelan read them off.
"Return Of The King, The Compleat Stephen King Dark Tower Compendium, and The Tale Of The Hidden Prince. I never heard of that one."
Sam nodded.
"I have. Its one of Jim's favorites. Its an adaptation of The Ancient Destroyer Cycle. See, the Hidden Prince is really The Rock Of Prophecy, and The Great Fiend is really King Ghidorah. Relly, all three books fell down. But only this one opened."
She read the visible passage.
"Those unworthies had sought by turns to make a servant of Ebeniel, yet fate one day made them see by fallen tomes that their tired boy was..."
The book dropped, and Aurelan said the words.
"Sam, its Peter. He's the boy. The boy from the story. The Rock."
Suddenly, efforts to keep this child pinned down seemed greatly foolish.
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DECEMBER 25TH
Captain Kirk did not mince words.
"I love the two of you, more than you can imagine. But I've lost all respect for and all faith in you. This year, I had to kill one sibling, poor Gary, a mad would-be god. Now I see my two other siblings living like gods on the back of a young boy. You disgust me."
Sam pointed and shouted.
"Screw off, sperm donor! They are not your children. Biology aside, I am their father!"
Jim's next words were the last nail in the coffin of his brother's self-esteem.
"Then act like it."
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2266, USS Enterprise
The zombie King finished his tale.
"Do you see, Mister Spock? Do you see how my entire life pointed me to this place, and this moment? How I had no choice, except to become what you see before you?"
Spock raised his weapon anew.
"As an excuse for your actions, I find your tale vastly wanting." Sam's rapidly-whiting eyes still managed to show anger at Spock's words.
"You heartless Vulcan bastard. How can you listen to all that and not be moved?"
Spock was firm in his stance, but kept an eye out for surprises.
"You sound, Doctor Kirk, like an absurd parody, not of the Captain, but of Doctor McCoy. For I believe even he and I would speak as one on this sorry matter. You call me cold, but my crime against my child was made in a hellish, lawless place where I had no chance to take her away. Your crime has no valid explanation. You have spoken of humiliation. Of betrayal by those closest to you. Of loss. Of shattered self-image. Of fate's cruelty and randomness. Yet in none of these things are you unique. For Mister Kyle's pointless death alone, I shall not forgive you."
Sam grinned.
"Right here and now, Spock, I'm not looking at you as a source of redemption. I just hope all that copper doesn't ruin the taste of your brain. But I'll make due."
Sam raised his arms. To Spock's shock and disgust, the arms then detached from Sam and flew the distance between them with no real time lag. The limbs held Spock on his arms, pinned against the wall. Spock's tunic sleeves protected him from the undead thing's toxic touch. Yet his weapon fell to the floor, and Spock was held fast. Sam began to shamble over for his meal. ''=
---------
Separated from Janice Rand, Yeoman Tina Lawton ran for her life from those who had taken up a second one. She entered Gymnasium Three, whose control panel looked gnawed at. She turned and barred the door with everything her small frame could heft. The room had only one access, and the vents were not wide enough for even determined former humans. She felt safe, however briefly.
"Grr--grrr--growling?"
Behind her was a large, black-furred wolf. It growled, but did not move to attack her. It almost seemed curious as it finally approached her.
"Keep--keep back!"
The animal pulled back, and gave off a sound like it was confused. It sounded almost puppy-like. The thought that Enterprise had no wolves never entered Tina's mind.
"You're one of Hikaru's, right? Like the plants weren't enough."
"Oh, he's not Sulu's. Think higher on the food chain."
A woman Tina didn't know stood on top of her makeshift barrier. She then jumped down, and joined Tina to stroke the wolf's fur.
"That's a good boy. You'll obey now, won't you? At least one would tend to hope so."
The woman turned to Tina.
"That was actually a great idea. No matter what the old vids say, zombies will eventually move on to other, easier food."
Tina didn't like this newcomer very much.
"Th-Thanks."
Aurelan Sorel Kirk then altered her facial features.
"Vampires, on the other hand, tend to be a trifle obsessive. You'll understand, pretty soon. Well, it may or may not be you. I honestly don't know what type I am. Souled, but not bound by it. Unsouled and demonically replaced. I keep meaning to ask one of the people I bring over. Remind me, will you?"
Tina was about to scream as loudly as her aunt Linnea when the barrier busted down. Aurelan shouted in fury.
"SAM?! Can't you keep those brainless things under control? I'm working here!"
But it wasn't her husband the zombie king. It was Nyta Uhura and a young, awkward looking male ensign. Nyta threw a torn-up fragment of deck-plating straight at Aurelan's head. The vampire ducked and rolled away, and Tina escaped to the arms of the male ensign. Nyta turned and looked at him.
"Ensign, get yourself and the yeoman to the Bridge by the route we worked out. That is an order."
Aurelan saw the young man comply, despite obvious qualms about leaving her. The vampire rolled her eyes.
"They always have a helpful nerd with them. Watch, the girl will start to learn Wicca."
She then saw the fragment where it had struck. It was embedded in the wall. Aurelan realized it could have taken her head off.
"So you're the next one, Nyta? I guess I really am dead."
Uhura rolled up her sleeves. There were devices attached.
"I'm no chosen, Relly. These are portable anti-gravs, for moving small but heavy objects."
Jumping high into the air, Nyta did a jump kick that sent the vampire queen flying back, hitting the wall as she went. The wolf, so dormant until then it seemed an illusion or a statue, then jumped on Uhura, and stood above her growling fiercely. Aurelan smiled and got back up. Uhura gulped, her arms and legs pinned. The animal's strength was terrific.
"Goood boy. Now tear her stinking head off!"
The jaws went wide, and Nyta hoped that Jim would find someone else. She refused to regret her choice to stay behind and gather up the survivors of the undead rampage. Yet the jaws suddenly closed. The wolf now stared at Nyta with no anger in its face. That same confused puppy-sound preceded the wolf licking Nyta on the face, playfully, then getting off her.
Uhura decided it was over no matter what, and put her hand out to the animal. It licked, and tried to bite it, but very gingerly, almost affectionately. While Aurelan stood disbelieving, Uhura stroked its fur and nose gently.
"Easy, boy. I'm your friend."
"NOOOOOOOO!!!!"
Aurelan seized the wolf by its neck, and threw it against the floor. It yelped in pain and confusion. Uhura pulled back, til she could better assess the bizarre situation. The vampire kept on yelling.
"You little idiot! You've always preferred her to me. Even as a mewling pup, you calmed down in her arms. Never in mine. Why couldn't you just be normal? Or like other people? Do you see ANY other wolves on board? Damn you. I gave you life!"
Nyta looked over at the stirring wolf. Its tired eyes. Its confusion. The remnants of a shirt collar that were still around its neck. A shirt she herself had sent as a birthday gift. Nyta looked at the vampire.
"Oh, Sweet Jesus Christ, No. Aurelan, what have you done?"
Aurelan stroked the wolf, ironically showing it more physical affection than she had for the last year.
"I didn't do this. But I will take advantage of it."
Aurelan kissed the wolf on its forehead, and said some bone-chilling words.
"Peter, be a good boy and kill Aunt Nyta for Mommy, alright?"
The creature growled. Whatever was left of the mind of Peter Kirk knew only that his mother was finally showing him her unrestricted love, and for that he would do anything.
--------
Sam saw Spock vanish from his grasp.
Spock saw himself emerge in the cargo transporter adjacent to engineering. Mister Scott had his weapon drawn.
"Now, just keep well til we establish what you are, Mister Spock. And if ye are living, ye can help us to form a plan to take back this ship."
Spock's main personality left knowledge of his lost child and the horror of what Sam Kirk had become in that other room. Yet still he wondered.
"How is it I am here?"
-------
Emerging on to the Bridge, Tina Lawton and her escort were held back, scanned, and told to sit down until they could be verified clean.
"Thank you for being such a nice guy."
"It is really nothing. Lieutenant Uhura is the one you should thank."
Lawton cried a little.
"You know, this isn't the first thing like this that's happened to me."
"No?"
"No. The last guy I tried to date turned me into a Monitor Lizard!"
Pavel Chekov then contemplated asking for a transfer.
--------------
Sam reattached his arms, but did not turn around.
"Inventive. You couldn't beam me away, so you beamed Spock out instead. Cool move, little brother. Now its just you and me."
Sam now did turn around, and saw exactly who he expected to. Captain James Kirk steeled himself.
"Its always been just you and me, Sam."
Across the decks, the living fell to the unliving, and to the undead. The badly overcrowded Bridge was under the command of an MD who hated waiting, but knew that was all he could do. An android that moved as Christine Chapel kept other like Rand safe in a Sickbay she 'somehow' knew how to safeguard against both types of invaders. In Gymnasium Three, a lost boy was closer to matricide than he could ever know. And a pair of identical twins born five years apart fought over the shape of creation itself. It had begun.
Next- Chapter Nine - Doom