A/N: So, by "sort of sequel," I mean that you don't necessarily need to read Brothers to understand what's happening here, but there are characters within that were introduced in that fic, and new characters in this fic that wouldn't exist without them.
I'm trying a new style with this fic - hope it works. Enjoy!
Riverside, Iowa, Earth. Stardate 2284.102.
"Your move, Captain."
Jim glanced at his adversary, then back to the decision at hand. He scanned it, examining every possible outcome. He focused, tuning out the cries of young children and adults alike, ignoring the weight of eyes watching for his next move. His reputation
depended on what he did next. His whole future depended on it.
After a minute of intense evaluation, he moved his black knight.
Just like that, his opponent's Vulcan mask shattered into an expression of human ecstasy. "Yes!" Amanda cried. With lightning speed, fingers of sun-kissed bronze snatched up her white queen. "Checkmate," she announced triumphantly, setting the piece down
with a clink of finality.
"You beat me," Jim observed hollowly, staring at the 3D chess board for any possible escape. Regardless, he felt pride's warm glow welling through the cracks in his ego.
"Yes, yes I did," Amanda confirmed, grinning with all the brightness of a star. The sun turned her raven hair iridescent as she tucked it behind pointed ears. Then, unable to contain her excitement any longer, she jumped up from the patio table and ran
into the yard, the skirt of her baby blue dress waving in a gentle breeze. "David, I finally won!"
"She's barely seventeen," Jim protested.
Carol, sitting on his right, patted his back consolingly. "She's the daughter of Spock and Nyota, Jim. She was blessed with human ingenuity and Vulcan logic; this moment was inevitable."
"But seventeen."
"And you're fifty-one, sweetheart."
"Are you calling me old and therefore mentally impaired? Cause one, we're the same age, and two, my brain works just fine."
"I dunno, Dad – you get hit in the head a lot," David chimed in, returning with Amanda to the site of Jim's humiliation.
Jim cast a mock-glare at his soon-to-be sixteen-year-old son. Blond curls framed a pale face, set off by electric blue eyes above a mischievous smirk.
"You and I will be having words, young man," Jim pretended to threaten.
David crossed his arms over his green shirt, not even pretending to be affected by his father's stern words. His black shorts were grass-stained from playing with Arthur, Henry, and Peter.
"At least have the dignity to be mildly apologetic about your shorts," Carol scolded.
"Come on, Mom, we were raised on a ship. You guys never mind when we get our clothes a little dirty."
"Stop using logic on your parents," Jim retorted. "And she's not just 'a ship,' she's the Enterprise."
"That is a highly illogical demand," Amanda pointed out.
"And you, stop sounding like your father. One part-Vulcan spouting endless logic is plenty for one crew."
"You mean family," Carol corrected, nodding at a sight in the yard.
Bones sat in a lawn chair, telling a story with animated gestures, commanding the rapt attention of Peter and Joanna. Peter, grass-stained like his cousin, sat in a chair as close to Joanna's as humanly possible, their hands connected. The elegance of
Joanna's wavy chocolate hair, sharp hazel eyes, and delicate but powerful hands starkly contrasted with her stereotypical doctor's handwriting.
"You know what, Bones has the right idea."
Amanda and David glanced over at him, brows furrowed in confusion. "What?" David asked.
Jim put on his best old man voice. "Gather round, young'uns, gather round." Still confused, likely wondering if Jim had finally lost his mind, the two teenagers settled on the opposite side of the table.
"It's story time, children. And I believe the appropriate punishment for your insolence is a love story."
-LLAP-
U.S.S. Enterprise, orbiting P3X-888. Stardate 2260.311.
Captain's log, stardate 2260.311.
Today marks the 311th day of our five-year mission. The crew is beginning to show the strain of being away from home for so long, but they're performing admirably nonetheless. Today should, with any luck, provide some non-life-threatening interest, as we're currently orbiting an unexplored planet oh-so-creatively dubbed P3X-888. It's Class M, the fourth planet in its system, with a flourishing ecosystem, but no civilization. On average, it's about ten degrees cooler than Earth, but it seems ideal for colonization. Commander Spock, Doctors Marcus and McCoy, Ensigns Chekov and Carter, and I will be beaming down in five minutes to investigate further.
Jim jogged into the transporter room, holding up a hand to silence the six crewmembers staring at him. "Scotty wanted a word. Besides, I'm not even three minutes late, so stop looking at me like that."
Spock's eyebrow rose dubiously and Bones rolled his eyes, but it was Carol's little smile of amusement Jim noticed, trying to ignore the way his heart fluttered at the sight of it. He stepped firmly onto the transporter pad, nodding at the lieutenant
manning the transporter controls. "Energize."
For a moment, the captain was blinded as tendrils of white light wrapped around the landing party, and then a gorgeous landscape replaced the plain transporter room, accented by singing birds and buzzing insects.
In the distance was a single range of mountains in a closed loop around the valley, separating it from the world. They stood in a field of bright blue grass that extended all the way to the mountains, except to Jim's right. There sprouted a forest, its
white-barked trees tall and thick, navy blue vines sweeping down in a style similar to Earth's weeping willows. The sky arched above them, a shimmering sunset orange, though the sun still rode high in the sky, and not a cloud in sight. A river wound
through the field towards the forest, its water as orange as the sky.
"All right, everyone, fan out and do your thing," Jim ordered.
The two ensigns struck out for the forest's edge, Chekov instantly striking up a conversation with the tan-skinned, red-haired Lisa Carter.
"Work while you flirt, Chekov," he called after them. The eighteen-year-old activated his tricorder but didn't stop talking. Jim smiled, happy for his little brother, but the image morphed into Jim and Carol walking side-by-side, holding hands and chatting
as if their duties didn't exist.
Jim shook his head sharply – that image could never become reality.
"Out of all the rules you could've picked to follow, you pick this one," a Georgian accent observed.
"Shut up, Bones," Jim muttered, glancing around to make sure Carol hadn't heard. She was by the river a hundred yards away, discussing some readings with Spock.
"Come on, kid, even Spock sees the way you look at her."
"I can't-"
"Jim, you haven't done more than meaningless flirting with other women since you met her. As your former roommate, I can attest to the significance of that."
"A captain isn't allowed to become romantically involved with a member of his crew," Jim pointed out, struggling to keep his voice emotionless.
Bones watched his face for a moment. "Fine. Have it your way. But remember that Pike was so devoted to his career that he's now in his fifties with no wife or kids. Even Chekov isn't that single-minded, and at his age that's perfectly fine, although he
needs to act a bit more like a kid sometimes."
"I hope it works out. He really likes this one."
If Bones was irritated by the subject change – and he almost certainly was – he did a remarkable job of not showing it. "Yeah. But he's got a few good years left before he marries, I'd say."
"You married young, Bones."
"And look how that turned out."
"You make an excellent point, Bones."
"I always do."
Jim clapped Bones on the shoulder. "Let's do some science."
Bones started for the river. "I wanna check out that water. It's probably just the sky, but it could be some sort of chemical. Either way, it's fas- interesting. Orange water is interesting."
"You do that," Jim encouraged a retreating backside, smirking at the slip. The smirk faded as he awkwardly remained in place, longing to join his closest friends, but wary of starting a conversation with Carol right after Bones's advice. Luckily, a beeping
communicator saved him from further awkwardness. "Kirk here," he answered, freeing it from his belt and flipping it open.
"Scott here, Cap'n. We've detected a ship, sir. She dropped out of warp, then retreated to the other side of the planet where we cannae get a visual."
"What kind of ship, Scotty?"
"We cannae tell. Somethin' is confusin' her signal – one second she's Klingon, then Romulan, then-"
"All right, I get it. Try hailing them, and see if you can get close enough to determine anything. And let's hope they're friendly."
"Aye, Cap'n. Scott out."
Jim didn't put his communicator away as he pondered the next move. The ship had shown no unfriendly intentions – but nor had it shown friendly ones. If it did start showing unfriendly ones, the Enterprise would be forced to raise shields, thus
leaving the landing party stranded. And if the ship was unfriendly and knew the landing party was on the planet, odds were the six of them would hardly stand a chance against whatever forces were sent to capture or kill them.
So he reopened his communicator. "Ensigns, return to the beam-up site."
"Aye, Keptin."
"Kirk to Enterprise."
"Sir, we haven't been able to-"
"I figured, but just in case-"
"LISA!"
Jim whirled towards the accented scream, a sharp exclamation of terror and horror mingled with agony. "Chekov?" he yelled, already running for the trees – as were the other three. "Chekov!"
"Jim, wha' was tha'?" Scotty demanded.
The young Russian stumbled out of the trees, his eyes wide, his shirt bloodied, his left sleeve almost gone, replaced by two massive gashes along the length of his arm. In his right hand, he clutched a swath of red fabric.
Part of Ensign Carter's uniform.
Bones ran instantly to Chekov's side, holding his right arm bracingly as he ran a medical tricorder over him.
"I t-tried to s-sawe h-her," Chekov stammered.
Jim swallowed back his horror, raising his communicator to again. "Enterprise, beam up Doctor McCoy and Ensign Chekov immediately."
"Let's get you patched up, Pavel," Bones murmured reassuringly as the transporter took the pair away.
"Jim, the ship jus' emerged – it's-"
Three bloody figures emerged from the trees, snarling at the three Starfleet members.
Holy hell to the nope factor.
"I'm gonna guess Gorn?" Jim checked, backing up. He instinctively raised one arm to shield Carol as he stared up into the glittering compound eyes of an eight-foot-tall, Romulan-blood-green-scaled, bipedal reptile.
"Aye. How did ye-"
"Three to beam up. Now."
Tendrils of light wrapped around the remaining trio, much too slowly, as they edged backwards from the furious reptiles.
And then, with a jolt that made Jim and Carol gasp, the effect ceased abruptly.
"Scotty-"
"I cannae do anythin', sir. They opened fire, and the transporter was damaged. We had to raise shields."
Jim glanced to his left, and his heart sank upon seeing Carol still beside him.
"Is Spock onboard?"
"Aye, sir, he managed to rematerialize up here."
"Good. Protect the ship at all costs – even if you have to leave orbit – and get us when you can. Kirk out."
Carol glanced at him, her exquisite eyes wide and terrified, but her voice was surprisingly calm as she inquired "What do we do now, Captain?"
Jim made eye contact with the center Gorn – easily a foot taller than the others, with massive muscles, and standing a step ahead of his companions, he was likely the leader of this little party. The claws on his right hand were soaked in blood.
"I, uh, I don't suppose-"
Opening his massive jaws wide, revealing a mouthful of bloody, incredibly sharp teeth in addition to his three-inch fangs, the leader Gorn roared.
"Run!" Jim yelled.