Author’s Note:  Fifth Fleet stories have generally attempted to remain family friendly, so that they can be enjoyed by all our members.  In this vein, I have tried to keep the stories rated PG (as based on the US motion picture industry rating guidelines).  However, there comes a time when to tell a story properly, things must be taken in a somewhat more dramatic direction.

 

The following story is darker and a little more gruesome in tone than most Fifth Fleet stories.  If compared to the movie rating scale, this story must be considered PG-13.  Please take this into consideration when reading this Fifth Fleet story. ~PJK

 

 

            The Commanding Officers and Executive Officers of all five Fifth Fleet starships were gathered in the main briefing room in the Hub of the spacedock aboard Starbase 719, along with Base Commander, Val’ri Raiajh, and her own First Officer, Cathryn Pearson, receiving their final mission briefing.  At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Penji Fil stood in front of a large holographic projection, which displayed a chart of several million cubic light years of space, from Sector 001 and the Sol System all the way to the galactic core, with Starbase 719 and the Typhon Sector about a third of the way from the bottom of the display.

 

            “We are on the forefront of a new golden age of exploration,” the Catullan admiral stated.  “Our fleet will travel further from Federation space than almost any Starfleet vessel has gone before, with the notable exception of Voyager, the vessels that have traversed the Bajoran Wormhole into the Gamma Quadrant, and the trio of starships that recently returned from the Small Magellanic Cloud exploration mission.  The fleet, at least for the earliest part of our mission, will remain relatively close together, separated by no more than one or two sectors in case assistance becomes necessary.”  Fil then turned toward the chart and, activating a control in his hand, a dotted red line appeared surrounding an area of space almost as large as the Romulan Star Empire less than five sectors away from the starbase.  “Based on current intelligence, we believe this encompasses the Kairn Empire, with which the Federation has tangled in the past.  In the interests of interstellar harmony…”  This comment caused several of the officers present to chuckle.  “…Our fleet will avoid this area of space.  And if any of your starships should encounter a Kairn vessel, you are to withdraw and report where, when, and under what circumstances you encounter them.”

 

 

Space, the Final Frontier…

These are the voyages of the starship Bellerophon!

 

Star Trek: Bellerophon

 

“Wednesday’s Child” By PJK

 

 

Monday’s Child

Author Unknown

 

Monday’s child is fair of face;

Tuesday’s child is full of grace;

Wednesday’s child is full of woe;

Thursday’s child has far to go;

Friday’s child is loving and giving;

Saturday’s child works hard for a living;

The child that is born on the Sabbath day,

Is bonny, and blithe, and good, and gay.

 

 

            The initial mission parameters were simple.  While the USS Besiege would remain close to Starbase 719, acting as the first line of defense in case the nearby Kairn tried to attack the new base, the USS Dauntless would proceed on initial course 005 mark 0, USS Bellerophon on 350 mark 0, USS Sarek on 020 mark 0, and USS Triton on 335 mark 0, the four ships spreading out like fingers yet remaining close enough, at least at the start, to respond to each others hails.

 

            Aboard the Intrepid-class USS Bellerophon, the turbolift opened on the bridge and Captain (Carrie) K’danz, the starship’s new commanding officer, stepped out.  She looked around at the crew who manned each station.

 

            Sitting at the engineering station on the starboard side of the bridge sat the vessel’s half-Klingon Chief Engineer, Dar, who was also the captain’s husband.  To K’danz’s immediate right stood Starfleet Marine Captain Michael C. Drake, who like K’danz and Dar, had recently transferred from the starship Dauntless, manning the security/tactical post.  Monitoring the aft stations, where a large cutaway image of the Bellerophon was displayed, was Chief Mor chim Colv, the starship’s new Tellarite Command Master Chief or Chief of the Boat, a position not every starship maintained, but which K’danz had grown to depend upon during her time in command of the Dauntless.

 

            Further to the left, behind the ops console, stood Lieutenant Kimmel Wheeler, one of the few crew members still aboard since the Bellerophon had participated in a diplomatic mission to Romulus, the first Federation starship to orbit the capital of the Romulan Star Empire, during the Dominion War.  Forward along the port side was the science console, currently unmanned, which would normally be the duty station of the Vulcan Commander T’Ashara, another former Dauntless crew member who had transferred at the captain’s request, while directly in the middle, right in front of the viewscreen, the starship’s Chief Helmsman, Lt Commander Walter Hickam, a Bellerophon plank-owner who had been aboard the starship since its launch in 2371, readied to maneuver the starship out of spacedock.

 

            “Crew reports ready.  All systems functioning, Captain,” reported First Officer Commander Tom Paris as K’danz stepped down to her command chair.

 

            “Thank you, Tom.  So how does it feel, being back aboard an Intrepid?” K’danz asked as she assumed her seat.  Paris looked around the bridge, his expression unreadable.

 

            “I spent fourteen years serving aboard a ship nearly identical in every way to this one.  When I joined your crew aboard the Dauntless, I was looking for a change of scenery.  The last place I wanted or expected to find myself was aboard another Voyager look-alike.”

 

            Paris glanced once more around the bridge before looking at K’danz with a slight smile.

 

            “But I have to admit, it feels a little like a homecoming.”

 

            “Captain,” said Lieutenant Wheeler.  “Spacedock control has cleared us for departure.”

 

            “Thank you, Lieutenant,” K’danz said as she looked at the viewscreen where the Triton and Sarek were visible.  The Besiege, the warship that would mainly protect the starbase, was still moored on the opposite side of the dock hub, out of sight, while the Dauntless, being the Fleet Flagship with Admiral Fil aboard, had departed the previous day.  “Mister Hickam, maneuvering thrusters.  Take us out.”

 

            “Take us out, aye,” the chief helmsman responded.

 

            The Bellerophon slowly backed out of its slip.  Once clear of the central hub, where starbase commander Rear Admiral Raiajh watched with her own executive officer Commander Pearson from the control room atop the structure, the Bellerophon angled around until the pointed bow of the Intrepid-class starship was facing the exterior doors, which slowly yawned open.

 

            “Maneuvering thrusters ahead,” Hickam reported.  The Belle started moving forward, in thirty seconds passing through the doors into open space.  “We are now free and clear to navigate.”

 

            “Very well,” K’danz said as she glanced toward Commander Paris.  “Let’s see what’s out there!  Helm, set course 350 mark 0.”

 

            “Course plotted and laid in,” Hickam confirmed a moment later.

 

            “Very well.  Helm, ahead warp five.”

 

            As Lt Commander Hickam acknowledged the order, the Bellerophon’s variable geometry warp drive nacelles lifted to their raised position and glowed with a dynamic blue light.  A second later, the starship broke the warp barrier.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Captain’s log, stardate 63079.2:

USS Bellerophon on course toward our first mission, star mapping in what we are now referring to as Sector 50101.  Ship and crew are meeting or exceeding all expectations.

K’danz, out.

 

 

            Captain K’danz and her husband, Commander Dar, were sitting on one of the couches along the side of crew’s mess, the starship’s main off duty gathering spot, talking with the newly assigned Chief of the Boat, Chief Colv, and ops officer Lieutenant Wheeler, who was relating the story of the ship’s visit to Romulus.

 

            “Half the crew couldn’t believe it when the orders came through,” Wheeler said.  “A Federation starship going to Romulus?  We still had enough trouble believing we were fighting alongside the Romulans as allies instead of enemies!”

 

            “So what was it like passing through the Neutral Zone invited?” Dar asked.

 

            “A little weird.  We were intercepted by two Warbirds halfway through the zone.  One of them was one of those new Mogai-class ships.  Decloaked right in front of us out of nowhere!  Commander Arlington was ready to call away a red alert until Admiral Ross confirmed they were our escorts.”

 

            “What about you, COB?” K’danz asked.  “What was your scariest mission?”

 

            “Actually, Captain, I have a question for you,” Chief Colv said.  “I’ve heard of Chiefs in my position aboard other starships being referred to as Senior Enlisted Advisors, sometimes even Command Master Chiefs.  Where do you get COB from?”

 

            K’danz looked at her husband with a grin and said, “I knew this was coming eventually.”  She then looked at the Tellarite and replied, “The term originated in the US Navy of the 20th century, and was applied to the senior enlisted man aboard submarines.  Stands for Chief of the Boat.”

 

            “But how does that apply to a starship?  The Belle is hardly a boat,” Colv protested.

 

            “Neither were submarines by the end of the 20th century,” Dar remarked.

 

            “It’s a tradition I’m carrying over from my last command,” K’danz explained.  “Shortly after the launch of the Intrepid-class Dauntless, we were assigned a mission that took us back to Earth’s past.  Peter, my commanding officer back then, and several members of the Dauntless’ senior staff assumed command of an American sub during the Eugenics war in order to keep history on track as we knew it.  Then shortly after we returned to the 24th century, the Dauntless was assigned a new crew member, an El-Aurian Chief Petty Officer who had lived on Earth for almost 200 years and who had been present on that same submarine with Captain Koester and his crew almost 400 years before.  He liked that Captain Koester called him COB, and the title stuck.”

 

            Colv looked confused as he tried to figure out everything K’danz had said and how it applied to himself when the conversation was interrupted by Tom Paris’ voice on the intercom.

 

            “Captain to the bridge.”

 

            “And it starts already,” K’danz remarked while she exchanged a worried look with her husband before standing up and tapping her combadge as she walked toward the mess hall door, Dar and Colv quickly following.

 

            “What’s wrong, Tom?”

 

            “We’re receiving a subspace radio signal, Captain,” Paris explained.  “Commander T’Ashara believes it may be a distress call.”

 

            “Origin?” K’danz asked as all three people stepped into the turbolift for the short trip one deck higher.

 

            “Second planet of a solar system eight light years ahead of us.”

 

            The turbolift opened on the bridge and K’danz, Dar, and Colv stepped out, the engineer and chief immediately heading to their respective stations, while K’danz stepped down to where Paris stood behind the helm.

 

            “Alter course toward that solar system,” K’danz ordered.  “Sound yellow alert.  Until we know what we’re facing, let’s play it safe.”

 

            “Agreed,” Paris said before activating the alert.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            “Helm, standard orbit,” K’danz ordered.

 

            “Standard orbit, aye,” the Lieutenant (JG) manning the helm replied.

 

            “T’Ashara?” the captain asked, looking toward the science console.  The Vulcan woman sitting at the console verified her readings before turning to look at the captain.

 

            “We are still receiving the signal.  I believe it may be an automated beacon.”

 

            “What is the planet in question like?”

 

            “Planet is class-L.  Atmosphere mainly oxygen and argon with high concentration of carbon dioxide.  Oxygen content is nearly double our normal percentage.  Registering life-form readings, but no signs of civilization.  I would estimate an early Mesozoic era environment.”

 

            “Mesozoic?” Paris remarked with confusion.  “Broadcasting a subspace transmission?”

 

            “I surmise there must be a ship comparable in technology to our own that has landed or crashed on the surface,” T’Ashara explained.

 

            “Are we sure it’s a distress call?” asked 2nd Lieutenant Asra, the on-watch female Denobulan tactical and security officer.  “How do we know it isn’t some kind of warning?  It could be pointing out some kind of danger.  Or maybe it’s some sort of prison planet, and the beacon is warning ships away?”

 

            “Can you pinpoint where the signal is coming from?” K’danz asked her Chief Science Officer.

 

            “I can narrow down the location to within a five kilometer radius,” T’Ashara replied.  “Due to environmental interference, I cannot locate the signal’s source with any greater accuracy.”

 

            “I see,” K’danz said, sounding disappointed.  “Tom?”

 

            “Do you want an away team to beam down and check it out?”

 

            “I don’t want to risk a shuttlecraft if it turns out there is a pre-warp society down there,” K’danz said.  “Take a well armed team down with you.  I don’t want any unnecessary risks.”

 

            “Aye, Skipper,” Paris replied.  “T’Ashara, Asra, you’re with me.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            The away team, consisting of Paris, T’ashara, Asra, and one of her junior non-coms, Corporal Jack Tobin, materialized in a small clearing of the jungle.  Around them, tall tropical plants moved gently in the breeze.  As both T’Ashara and Asra pulled out tricorders and started scanning the immediate vicinity, Tobin pulled out his phaser and guarded against any potential ambush.

 

            “Readings?” Paris asked T’ashara after the science officer had finished her initial sweep.

 

            “Numerous life signs, but it appears to all be small animals, nothing bigger than a large dog,” the Vulcan woman reported.  “The beacon, however, is quite strong.”  T’Ashara turned back and forth, pointing her tricorder toward the thick jungle, before eventually stopping.  “It is originating approximately 1.2 kilometers in this direction.”

 

            “Lead the way,” Paris prompted with a hand gesture.  T’Ashara nodded and started into the thick underbrush, Asra close beside her, followed by Paris with Tobin bringing up the rear.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Half an hour later, Asra held up a fist, prompting the away team to stop and remain silent.  Through the jungle could be heard voices, some shouting.  T’Ashara started scanning again, then looked at Commander Paris, her voice low.

 

            “I’m detecting nine humanoid life signs, gathered around what appears to be a disabled spacecraft.”

 

            “Crash survivors?” Paris asked.

 

            “Apparently,” T’Ashara concurred.

 

            Paris gestured the away team forward.  A few seconds later the jungle growth cleared enough to see the wreckage of what looked like a small transport or cargo ship.  From the condition of the vessel it appeared to have crashed weeks if not months before the Bellerophon’s arrival.  Paris was surprised that all the survivors appeared to be children, all looking about 13 to 16 Earth years of age.

 

            The children wore torn and dirty rags for clothing.  Several were standing atop the hull.  One of them, the tallest, was holding a long piece of metal, evidently part of the hull before the crash, like a staff.  One end of the staff looked like it had been sharpened into a blade.

 

            As the away team watched, two boys dragged a struggling younger third boy, who looked very thin and no older than 10, toward the wreckage.

 

            “We caught this Little trying to steal from the fruit stash,” one of the older boys dragging the prisoner said to those standing atop the hull.  The one with the metal staff jumped down and confronted the young boy, whose face was stained with tears.

 

            “How many more of you are left?” he demanded.  The young boy simply glared at the older one, a definite look of fear in his eyes.  “Where are the Littles hiding?”  Still no answer.  The older boy with the staff then looked up at the others still standing atop the wrecked hull and said, “Another Little has been caught trying to steal our food.  I say he should become our food, like the others!”

 

            Paris and Asra exchanged looks, both horrified at the implications of what they were hearing.  As they watched, the two captors forced the young boy down on his knees, pushing his head down onto a rock that Paris realized with horror was stained with dried blood.  The older boy with the jagged staff lifted it high over his head, like an executioners axe.  Tears streamed across the face of the young captive as he reluctantly awaited his fate.

 

            “Stop!” Paris shouted as he burst out of his hiding spot, his hand phaser aimed at the boy with the staff as the rest of the away team moved into the clearing.  All the gathered children went wide-eyed.

 

            “Growns!” the teen with the staff exclaimed, sending all the kids scrambling in every direction, running off into the thick jungle around the crashed vessel.  Quickly all disappeared except the young boy who had been forced down by the rock.  Still kneeling, he looked at Paris and the away team with a mixture of fear and defiance.

 

            “Are you unhurt?” T’Ashara inquired of the boy as she kneeled down near him, examining the cuts and scrapes all over his body while Asra and Tobin searched near the clearing edge for the other children and Paris entered the transport wreckage to see if anyone remained inside.  The first officer emerged a moment later looking ill.

 

            “You won’t believe what’s in there,” Paris remarked.  “These kids have reverted to complete barbarism here!  There are humanoid bones everywhere, and from the looks of them, many came from kids no older than our young friend here.”

 

            “Our ‘young friend’ has several infections in his extremities,” T’Ashara reported.  “Request permission to beam him up to sickbay for treatment, Commander?”

 

            “Granted,” Paris replied as he continued to look around the scene.

 

            “T’Ashara to Bellerophon.  Two to beam directly to sickbay,” the Vulcan woman said as she moved closer to the injured boy, who yelped in surprise as the two dematerialized.  Meanwhile, Asra and Tobin returned to where Paris was standing.

 

            “We lost them in the jungle, Commander,” Asra reported.  “They’ve probably been here for months and know all the good hiding spots.”

 

            Paris nodded in agreement before tapping his combadge.

 

            “Paris to Bellerophon.  Request Captain Drake beam down with the Hazard Team to our present location.”

 

            “Something wrong, Tom?” Captain K’danz inquired.  “I heard T’Ashara beamed back aboard with a casualty.”

 

            “We located some survivors of a space vessel crash on the surface, but they’re acting more like some violent street gang than anything else.  We may want to have a little more firepower at our disposal, just in case.”

 

            “Understood.  Mister Drake will be down shortly.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            The doors to sickbay swished open at K’danz’s approach, the captain walking across the space to where Bellerophon’s Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Robert ‘Bob’ Cuomo, and one of his nurses were trying to work on the young boy T’Ashara had brought to the ship.  The boy struggled violently with the medics, screaming while he slapped away their hands and threw whatever was within reach at them, including a medical tricorder that just barely missed K’danz’s left ear, before jumping down off the exam table, making a bee-line toward the door.  K’danz managed to intercept the young survivor before he got very far.

 

            “And where do you think you’re going?” the captain asked gently.

 

            The young boy looked at K’danz for several seconds, fear evident in his eyes, before he finally said, “Anywhere but here.  It’s too dangerous here.  They’ll come for you all.  They’ll kill you all while you’re sleeping!”

 

            The boy seemed about to make another break for the door when K’danz enveloped him in a tight hug.

 

            “No one will kill us.  We’re all safe here,” she assured him.  “Including you.  You’re safe now.”  The captain could feel the boy trembling in her arms, his breathing rapid.  “Now just calm down.”

 

            It took several minutes, but as T’Ashara and the medical staff watched, the boy’s demeanor calmed, eventually culminating in him placing his arms around K’danz as well.  When she felt him relax slightly, she took one of his hands into her own and stood to hand him back to Cuomo.  The boy immediately stiffened again.

 

            “It’s alright,” K’danz assured.  “Doctor Cuomo only wants to examine you.”

 

            “No,” the boy said fearfully.  “Don’t leave me here.”

 

            K’danz exchanged a look with Cuomo, then kneeled next to the boy again.

 

            “What’s your name?” she asked.

 

            The boy continued to stare at K’danz for a moment, his eyes still wide with fear, before he finally replied, “J…  J’coby.”

 

            “J’coby,” K’danz said warmly.  “That’s a nice name.  Very much like my father’s.  His name was Jacob.  If I stay here with you, will you let Doctor Cuomo examine you?”

 

            The boy looked fearfully up at Cuomo and his nurse before looking back at the captain and silently nodding.  “Good,” K’danz said, passing the boy’s hand to the nurse, who helped lift him back up onto the exam table.  As Cuomo took out another medical tricorder and scanner and started examining the boy, T’Ashara stepped over to the captain to give her report.

 

            “From all indications, there appears to be approximately a dozen or more survivors of the vessel crash on the surface,” the Vulcan woman said in a quiet tone.  “Based on the physical and material conditions of both the vessel, its survivors, and their effects, I would estimate that the vessel crashed between six and eight standard months ago.”

 

            “Any adult survivors?” K’danz asked.

 

            “Unknown if any survived the initial crash, but there was no evidence of any adult supervision when we arrived.  Perhaps our guest will know more?”

 

            “Thank you, Commander,” the captain said as she stepped closer to Cuomo and his nurse.  “Had he said anything besides screaming before I arrived, Doctor?”

 

            “Just before you walked in, Captain, he started to panic and shouted something about growns and danger.”

 

            “The survivors the away team has encountered all seem to be teenagers.  Growns?  Grown-ups?” K’danz asked.

 

            “Could be.  This boy is about ten standard years old.  Suffering from borderline malnutrition.  He hasn’t eaten much in the way of protein recently.  We’ve just injected him with standard vitamin shots and a sedative.  His wounds are all minor.  A lot more minor than what T’Ashara described was about to happen to him.”

 

            “What was about to happen?”

 

            “He was about to be executed by one of the older kids when the away team arrived just in time,” Cuomo explained.  “A few hours rest and he should be able to tell you more, Captain.”

 

            “Very well,” said K’danz before turning toward the door.

 

            “No!” the boy shouted.  “You said you would stay with me!  You said you would keep me safe!”

 

            “I’m afraid I can’t stay here all day.  I have work that requires my attention on the bridge,” K’danz replied gently.  The boy’s expression looked near panic again.

 

            “Can I come with you?” he asked, his voice cracking.  K’danz exchanged another look, this one of frustration, with Dr. Cuomo.

 

            “It’s up to you, Captain,” the doctor said.  “He’s well enough to leave sickbay.  And it would probably be better for him in the long run not to get too upset right now.”

 

            K’danz raised her eyebrows resignedly before offering her hand to the young boy.  A mere hint of a smile creased his lips as he grabbed her hand with his own and hopped down off the exam table, the pair quickly walking out through the door into the passage beyond.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            “Captain Drake!” one of the Marines exclaimed in a voice barely above a whisper.  The Chief of Security and Marine Contingent Commander stepped over to the other Hazard Team member, who had been scanning the vicinity of the jungle around them with a tricorder.

 

            “What’ve you got, Private?” Drake asked.

 

            “Two humanoid life readings, bearing 322, range eight meters.”

 

            Drake nodded, then using silent hand signals, directed the rest of the team to split up and surround the children they sought.

 

            Not far away, two teenage crash survivors, a boy and a girl, hid beneath the large elephant ear-shaped leaves of a plant, holding each other tight for comfort and hoping the Growns that had suddenly appeared in their camp would not find them.  They startled slightly as the heard the footsteps of armed Growns approaching.

 

            “What do we do?” the girl, who was no more than fourteen years old, asked.

 

            “We’re smarter than they are.  We can just slip away from them back in the direction they’re coming from,” the boy, who was a couple of years older than his companion, said.

 

            “What if there are more of them back around the ship?” the girl inquired nervously.

 

            “If we run into one of the Growns, we kill him and drag his carcass back to the camp for dinner.”  The girl, though frightened, nodded in agreement.  “Let’s go,” the boy said, starting to crawl away.  The girl quickly followed him.

 

            “Going somewhere?” asked Captain Drake, who stood with compression rifle at the ready, his First Sergeant beside him, both blocking the teenager’s route of escape.  The boy’s face looked both shocked and frightened, having heard nothing of Drake’s approach, before his expression turned to one of fury and he lunged at the Marine officer.  Drake simply employed a move taught to him many years earlier by his martial arts Sifu, Lin Fau Chang, and first swept his leg under the attacking teen, knocking him off stride, before grabbing the boy’s arm and torso and, using the boy’s own momentum, flipped him over and onto the ground on his back.  First Sgt Paone ended the attack by quickly aiming his own weapon at the boy’s head.

 

            “Drake to Bellerophon,” the Marine captain said after tapping the communicator attached to the front of his Hazard Team armor.  “We’ve located and detained two more survivors from the transport.  Suggest you beam them to the brig for security purposes.  They’re not exactly cooperative.”

 

            “Understood,” replied the voice of Lieutenant Wheeler.  “We’re locked onto you.  Prepare to energize.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Several minutes later, Captain K’danz, her young companion still in tow, walked into the Bellerophon’s brig complex, where Commander Tom Paris and Captain Michael Drake stood looking at their two newest arrivals while one of Drake’s guards manned the brig control console across the anteroom.  Two of the brig’s cells had their forcefields engaged, and as she stepped up to her First Officer and Security Chief, K’danz could see each was occupied by a single teenager.

 

            Before K’danz could address her officers, however, the little boy at her side noticed the captives as well.  His eyes went wide and he started to scream as he grabbed the captain’s hand with a death grip and pulled her toward the door.

 

            “We gotta get away!  We gotta get out of here!” J’coby cried.

 

            “It’s alright,” K’danz tried to assure her little companion.  “They’re locked up.  They can’t hurt you.”

 

            “They’re gonna kill us!” the boy insisted.  “They’re gonna kill us and eat us!”  Nothing K’danz could say would reassure the panicking youngster.  Finally, with an embarrassed look toward her officers, the captain allowed herself to be led toward the door.

 

            “Tom, you’re in charge of the interrogation,” K’danz said over her shoulder as the doors parted before her and J’coby.  “Brief me in one hour about what you learn.”

 

            “Aye, Skipper,” Paris replied as he watched, half-amused, half-concerned, as the doors slowly closed behind his captain and her guest.  He then exchanged a look of concern with Drake, who shrugged his shoulders, before turning his attention on the two prisoners.  “You both must be very hungry.”

 

            The teenaged girl nodded, but her male companion simply stared through the forcefield opening at Paris and Drake.

 

            “Computer, in cells one and two, one plate each of eggs, scrambled, side of bacon and toast.  And a glass of orange juice.”

 

            Inside each cell, a panel opened in the bulkhead to reveal a replicator slot, upon which materialized the ordered meals.  In spite of his attitude, the teenage boy was just as enthusiastic as the girl in scarfing down the meal, both requesting seconds before Paris started asking questions.

 

            “Please tell us what happened to you?” the first officer said.  “Where do you come from?  Where were you going when you crashed?  And what caused the crash?”

 

            The teenaged boy still looked somewhat defiantly toward Paris, but the girl spoke up immediately, apparently grateful for the meal.

 

            “My name is Sharone.  His is G’rg.  We’re originally from the planet Sagion, but our families were heading toward a new colony on Woodron Prime.  I’m afraid I don’t know what caused us to crash on Woodron II.”

 

            Paris nodded as he looked at the boy again, whose expression was now much less defiant.  “What about you?”

 

            “My father was one of the Growns that ran through the transport cabin, yelling for everyone to brace themselves; that we were going to crash.  I think we might have had an engine problem, because we dropped out of warp too soon, but I don’t know for sure.”

 

            “What happened to your father?” Drake asked, joining in on the interrogation.

 

            “He was pretty badly banged up in the crash.  He was one of the first to go.”

 

            “How long ago did your ship crash?  How long have you been stuck there?” Paris inquired.

 

            “It’s hard to tell,” Sharone replied.  “The days on Woodron II are shorter than on our own planet, but we witnessed six satellite convergences since the crash.”

 

            “Convergences?” Drake asked, confused.

 

            “When the small moon would pass in front of the larger one,” G’rg explained.

 

            “According to the data Commander T’Ashara has compiled about the system,” Paris said as he accessed the LCARS interface on the brig control console, “that would be about six months and an odd number of days.”  The first officer looked back toward the holding cells and added, “A long time to be alone without parents around to watch over you.”  When Paris noticed the confused looks on the teen’s faces, he clarified, “…Without Growns.”

 

            “Oh, they didn’t all die in the crash!” the girl exclaimed before suddenly looking embarrassed.

 

            “Sharone, shut up!” G’rg hissed at his companion in the next cell.

 

            “Wait!  What do you mean?  Then where are…?” Drake started to ask before he suddenly remembered the fate that had nearly befallen Captain K’danz’s new little friend.  The girl in the cell looked at the two starship officers fearfully until the boy, recognizing the look on the Marine officer’s face, spoke again.

 

            “Go ahead.  You might as well tell them the truth, Shah.”

 

            Sharone looked upset as she continued her story.

 

            “The crash caused our food supplies to become contaminated,” she explained.  “Nothing we brought with us was edible anymore, and we found little that could sustain us in the jungle, just a few fruits and plants, but not much.  Eventually the Growns who were left, led by Offam Hendershaw Spake, our expedition and religious leader, agreed we had to do whatever was necessary for us to survive, no matter how unsettling it might seem, until rescue arrived.”  Sharone looked on the verge of tears, turning away from the cell entrance for a moment as she continued.  “We started by eating those who had been killed in the crash.”

 

            Drake stared at the two teenagers in shock, but Paris, having studied human history, realized the account was simply another variation of an old story.  Sentient beings would break any taboo to ensure their survival.

 

            “The bodies of those who had died helped sustain us for about ten planetary days,” G’rg said, continuing Sharone’s explanation when she could no longer bring herself to speak.  “Offam Spake was sure someone would realize our ship had never reached Woodron Prime in that period of time, but when no one arrived to rescue us, he started telling all us ‘Lescents that we had to survive, no matter the cost.  He said the injured were draining our meager resources and probably weren’t going to survive anyway.  My father was the first of the injured to be put to death…”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Less than an hour later, Paris and Drake were in the briefing lounge on the port side of the bridge.  The rest of the gathered senior staff listened in silent horror as Paris and Drake explained what they had learned, as J’coby, who still refused to be separated from K’danz, shivered while being held tight in the captain’s arms.

 

            “There were less than half a dozen who were injured to any real life-threatening degree when the transport crashed,” Paris explained.  “And more than three dozen survivors, most of them teenagers, what Sagions call ‘Lescents, and young kids like J’coby.  The new ‘food supply’…”  Paris made a quotation mark gesture with his fingers as he said it.  “…Dwindled quickly, but the barbarism and instinct to survive had already been strongly implanted in the ‘Lescents, particularly Spake’s son, Hiram.”

 

            “The same boy we witnessed about to execute our guest?” T’Ashara asked.

 

            “Correct,” Paris replied with a nod.  “He took on the mantle of leadership, and organized the ‘Lescents to attack the remaining adults one night, figuring they would be more of a problem if they remained alive, starting with his own father, the Offam or religious leader of the new colony.  Then once the adults were out of the way, the ‘Lescents turned on the younger kids.”

 

            “Why?” Commander Dar asked.

 

            “Because Hiram said we were useless.”

 

            Everyone in the briefing lounge was surprised to hear the timid voice that came from under K’danz’s arms, the first words the boy had said since his outburst in the brig.

 

            “That’s what G’rg said too,” Paris confirmed.  “Hiram told the other ‘Lescents that they needed to work together and work hard if they intended to survive, and that the little kids… the Littles… all they wanted to do was play and sleep.  So he declared himself the survivor’s new leader and took it upon himself to sentence all the little kids to death, just like he had the adults.”

 

            “Shades of Kodos the Executioner,” Lieutenant Wheeler remarked quietly.

 

            “Some of the teens… the ‘Lescents, like Sharone down in our brig, objected to slaughtering the little kids,” Drake explained.  “But they told us the first ‘Lescent boy to stand up to Hiram got that sharpened pike the away team first saw him with right through the chest.”

 

            “This is awful,” K’danz remarked.  “Do we have any idea where the homeworld of these kids is located?”  Commander T’Ashara looked toward her commanding officer.

 

            “Based on data the Hazard Team has managed to recover from the crashed transport’s navigation system and what has been described to us by G’rg and Sharone, we have been able to determine the transport originated from the third planet in a star system 4.6 light years away from this one.  There is something about the data we recovered that does not make sense though.”

 

            “What’s that?” Paris asked the Vulcan science officer.

 

            “From what we have been able to determine, the transport’s course led directly to Woodron II, not Woodron Prime like our guests in the brig have told us.”

 

            “You think they were lying to Tom and Michael?” K’danz asked.

 

            “No.  I believe they were told their destination was the planet they call Woodron Prime.  But it appears someone purposely crashed their vessel on this primitive jungle world instead.”

 

            K’danz’s expression hardened for a moment as she unconsciously hugged young J’coby tighter before she looked at Lt Commander Hickam and said, “Commander, plot a course for the planet we think these kids originated from.  As soon as we… um… rescue the remaining children, we’ll return them to their homeworld.”

 

            “Aye, Captain,” Hickam replied, entering information into the padd he was holding.

 

            “Tom, you’ll continue coordinating the rescues?” K’danz asked her first officer.

 

            “Yes, Skipper.”

 

            “Very well.  Dismissed.”

 

            As the rest of the senior staff gathered their padds and isolinear chips and either headed out onto the bridge or down the steps to deck two, K’danz patted the boy in her lap on the back to reassure him before standing and heading out onto the bridge herself, the boy’s hand yet again gripping her own in an almost unbreakable death grip.  Frustrated, and knowing the boy’s need for attention could not go on indefinitely, K’danz looked toward the ceiling of the bridge and said, “Computer, what is the location of Counselor Lucian?”

 

            “Counselor Lucian is currently located in his office on deck five,” the computer’s pleasant sounding voice replied.

 

            “Come with me, J’coby,” K’danz said to the boy as they both stepped up toward the turbolift doors.  “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

 

            A couple of minutes later, the door chime of the ship’s counselor’s office rung.  “Come,” said a male voice from inside.

 

            “Counselor, I would like you to meet a young friend of mine,” K’danz said as she and the boy entered the office.  “This is J’coby, and we have a little problem.  I can’t run my ship with him constantly at my side, if not in my arms, but I promised him I would stay with him and keep him safe.”

 

            Counselor Gabe Lucian nodded knowingly before offering his hand to the young survivor, a move that caused the boy to flinch back toward K’danz and wrap his arms around her legs, as he said “My name is Gabe.  I’m here to help you.  Tell me about yourself.”

 

            J’coby looked up at K’danz, who tried to reassure him.

 

            “It’s alright.  Anything you say to the Counselor stays here in this room.”

 

            “You’re not going to leave me here, are you?” the boy asked meekly.

 

            “Actually, Captain, it might be better if you stayed, at least for a little while,” the counselor added.

 

            “Okay, “K’danz said with a sigh.  “I can stay for a little while.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Over the course of the next few hours, Counselor Lucian and Captain K’danz learned much about J’coby, including the reason he had formed an attachment to the captain so quickly.  As it turned out, K’danz closely resembled the young boy’s own mother.  When asked where his parents were, a flood of repressed emotions poured out of the boy in tears that streamed down his face as he told the two Bellerophon officers about the horrors he had witnessed during and shortly after the transport vessel’s crash; that his father had been one of the injured adults the ‘Lescents had killed during their first weeks on the planet, then how, when the teens had started murdering the other adults and younger children, his mother had given her own life to hide J’coby and protect him and several of the other younger kids, refusing to reveal where the cave she had found and was hiding them in was located.  The annoyance K’danz had been feeling over having little J’coby hanging all over her since the two had left sickbay quickly melted away.

 

            “Bridge to Captain K’danz,” said the first officer’s voice through the intercom.  K’danz tapped her combadge before answering.

 

            “Go ahead, Tom.”

 

            “Skipper, we’ve managed to locate, detain, and beam aboard most of the survivors, a total of fifteen right now.  But I’m pretty sure we’re missing a lot of them.  According to the manifest we retrieved, there were at least a dozen younger kids, and the youngest we’ve managed to retrieve so far, aside from J’coby, is no less than thirteen.  And I don’t think the teens managed to kill all of the other younger kids.”

 

            K’danz looked at J’coby and said, “You mentioned your mother had found a cave where she hid the younger children.  Do you know where it is?”  J’coby nodded silently.  “If I showed you a picture of the area around the crash site, do you think you could point out where the cave is?”

 

            “I… I guess I could,” the boy answered unsurely.

 

            K’danz took the boy over to the monitor that sat atop Counselor Lucian’s desk and called up an aerial view of the crash site and vicinity.  The wreckage of the transport was barely visible below the jungle canopy.  Even the long scar of displaced dirt where the vessel had skidded through the jungle was nearly invisible after six months of new growth.  J’coby studied the image for a minute, cocking his head left and right.  K’danz was about to suggest a different view when the boy suddenly pointed at an outcrop of rock about three-quarters of a kilometer north of the wreck.

 

            “Here!  I… uh… think.”

 

            “Good enough place to start looking,” K’danz remarked before passing the information on to Commander Paris.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            In less than an hour, the cave where all the youngest children had been hidden was located and all the kids beamed aboard, some sent to sickbay for care of cuts, scrapes, and injuries that had plagued them since the crash, the majority of them to cargo bay two, which had been converted to a temporary care facility.

 

            On the surface, the Hazard Team was winding up its SAR (search and rescue) mission when another teenager appeared at the edge of the clearing around the transport wreckage.  He had been carrying a sharpened length of ship wreckage, but dropped it in the undergrowth when a couple of Marines turned to see him standing there.

 

            “Thank the gods you’ve finally come to rescue us!” he shouted as he ran up to the nearest Marine grunt and, to the discomfort of the lance corporal, embraced him.  “I thought I was going to spend the rest of my short life on this gods-forsaken planet!”

 

            As the lance corporal extricated himself from the teenager’s grip, the private standing nearby activated his padd, which had been loaded with a file containing the passenger manifest recovered from the transport’s databanks, and asked, “And what is your name?”

 

            “Hiram,” the boy replied with a goofy grin.  “Hiram Spake.”

 

*          *          *          *

 

            “This is where you’ll be staying until we can get you back home, Hiram,” a young female Lieutenant (JG) said as she escorted the boy to cargo bay two.  She noticed him look around as soon as they entered the space, as if trying to spot someone he knew among the crowd of children.

 

            “Is this everyone you rescued from the planet?” the boy asked curiously.

 

            “Not all the kids, no,” the lieutenant replied.  “Some of the older kids were pretty violent when they were caught, so they’re being held in the brig.”

 

            “Oh, good,” Hiram said before leaving the lieutenant by the door and heading toward one of the other teenagers who was sitting with his back against the bulkhead across the cargo bay, staring at the younger kids with a hungry expression as they played.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            K’danz finally had J’coby comfortable enough for him not to be constantly hanging on her arms or legs, and the two now occupied the ready room with the captain’s half-Klingon husband, Dar.  Dar was watching J’coby play with a small toy train set he had replicated on the table near the forward couch while K’danz caught up on some work at her desk.

 

            “What’s going to happen to him?” Dar asked his wife quietly, so the preoccupied boy would not overhear.

 

            “I assume his homeworld will find whatever living relatives he has left,” K’danz replied.  “But he’s going to need some kind of therapy for a long time.”

 

            “Drake to Captain K’danz.”

 

            K’danz touched the intercom control on her desk and said, “Go ahead, Mister Drake.”

 

            “Captain, I’ve just been informed.  That name you wanted flagged on the manifest?  The boy has already been beamed aboard.”

 

            “Location?”

 

            “According to the Hazard Team, he wasn’t violent, so he’s been placed with the majority of the rescued survivors in cargo bay two,” Drake replied.  A look of surprise appeared on K’danz’s face.

 

            “My orders were for Hiram Spake to be detained in the brig no matter what his attitude!  Meet me in the cargo bay, Mister Drake.  I’ll be right down.”  K’danz then looked at both Dar and J’coby.  “Do you want to stay here with…?” she started to ask her husband.

 

            “I want to go with you!” J’coby suddenly said, as if he had been a part of the conversation the whole time.

 

            “I’ll go with you too,” Dar added, taking the boy’s hand and following his wife out of the ready room.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            Several minutes later, K’danz, Dar, J’coby, and Drake arrived at the heavy door to the cargo bay, where two more Marines stood guard in the corridor.

 

            “Any problems?” Drake asked as the group approached.

 

            “No, sir.  It’s been quiet,” the guard replied.

 

            “Open it up,” K’danz ordered almost harshly.

 

            One of the Marines turned and entered a combination into the padd next to the door, which opened with a hiss and whirring sound.  As all six people stepped inside, they were shocked – though K’danz was not exactly surprised – by what they found.

 

            Most of the little kids were herded in a group toward the back of the cargo bay, where a couple of older teens stood over them, keeping them from running away.  Halfway down the bay, Hiram Spake stood with a sharpened metal shiv he originally had hidden in his boot pressed against the throat of one of the youngest children, a little girl about six years of age, while a second teen boy stood alongside Spake like a gang lieutenant.

 

            “I was afraid of this,” K’danz muttered to the Marines around her, then ordered, “Weapons down, but at the ready.”

 

            “Drake to First Sergeant Paone,” the Marine contingent commander said into his combadge.  “I need fire teams on the upper level balconies of cargo bay two, ASAP!”

 

            K’danz slowly walked into the cargo bay, Drake and his two Marines close behind her while Dar kept J’coby out in the corridor near the open door.  The captain held her arms wide open, to show she had no weapons with which to threaten the teens.  K’danz and the Marines slowly walked halfway to Spake and his lieutenant before the boy spoke in a loud, concise voice.

 

            “These are our demands,” he said.  “First, I want you to release my people.  All of my people.”  He nodded his head toward the other boy and said, “He told me you have most of them down in your jail.”

 

            “We can do that, though it may take some time,” K’danz said cautiously, not moving any closer as she noticed a drop of blood well beneath the blade pressed to the little girl’s neck.  Though she had no real intention of releasing these kids back to the jungle planet, the captain hoped perhaps she could delay them enough with negotiations for the Bellerophon to get them back to their homeworld.

 

            “Second,” Spake exclaimed.  “We want our food supply sent back with us too.  And not hidden like they were neither!”

 

            K’danz noticed out of the corner of her eyes that several more of Drake’s Marines were silently taking up positions on the balconies of the cargo bay’s upper level, most of the compression rifles and hand phasers pointed over the rails at the hostage taker below, a couple toward the other teens standing guard over the larger group of kids at the back of the space.

 

            “That’s definitely NOT going to happen,” K’danz emphasized.  “They’re children, not animals to be slaughtered!”

 

            “They’re ours to do with as we like!  My father told me so!  It was no accident that we wound up on Woodron II!  My father wanted our colony established there!  A wild, untamed world.  Untouched by either civilization or civilization’s laws.  He wanted to see real survival in action.  Survival of the fittest, as our gods meant it to be!  Only that way, strong, would our gods let our race survive!”

 

            “Your father, the leader of your expedition, purposely crashed your transport on the surface of an untamed world just to see who was strong enough to survive?” Drake asked, incredulous.

 

            “The crash wasn’t on purpose,” Spake’s lieutenant, a boy named Juro, answered as the two Marines who had been guarding the cargo bay door slowly moved around K’danz and Drake in an attempt to flank the teens and their young hostage, who looked at the captain with fear-filled eyes.  “The crew had realized the course to Woodron Prime had been changed and were trying to change it back toward where all the colonists thought we were heading, so Offam Spake had to disable the warp and sublight engines before they could do that.  The transport fell out of orbit before he could then repair the engines.”

 

            “Sounds like he made at least one miscalculation,” Drake commented.  “Did he also miscalculate that you wouldn’t be capable of killing your own father, Hiram?”

 

            Hiram Spake’s eyes darted back and forth, between K’danz and Drake in front of him and the two Marines slowly approaching him from each side.  His forehead started breaking out in a sweat.

 

            “My father was a great man who made sure I knew what it would take to be the strongest, to be a survivor, to be a leader,” the boy growled.  “He may not have planned it, but he was willing to die to see that me and my people lived!  Now send us back home, and give us back our food, and be on your way before we kill you too!”

 

            As the two Marines shuffled closer to Spake and his lieutenant, Drake narrowed his eyes and said, “Ain’t… gonna… happen…”

 

            Suddenly, Spake pushed the little girl he had been holding toward the Marine who had been flanking him on the left and, with a quick duck and roll, came up directly in front of the Marine on his right, thrusting the shiv directly into the PFC’s neck.  Blood started spurting out everywhere as the man crumpled to the deck, causing chaos throughout the compartment.  The first Marine, who had been thrown off guard when the little girl tumbled into him, fired his rifle and struck Juro, flinging the boy several meters across the deck until he crumpled to the floor unconscious.  None of the other Marines dared fire, for fear of hitting either the innocent children or one of their own.  When the scene finally calmed, the worst possible scenario had emerged.  Every phaser weapon in the room was aimed at Hiram Spake, who had his blood-stained shiv pointed directly at Captain K’danz’s carotid artery below her left ear, her right arm twisted back behind her.

 

            “Let us go and give us the Littles or she dies,” Spake said, slowly backing away toward the group of kids collected against the bulkhead with K’danz.

 

            At the door of the cargo bay, Dar looked on wide eyed at what had transpired, feeling the desperate urge to rush in and save his wife from the homicidal teenager but holding himself back knowing such a move would likely only get her killed.  He turned to try and direct J’coby away from the cargo bay, but the little boy saw what had occurred.  Shivering with a combination of fear and outrage, he started yelling at the top of his lungs and slipped past Dar, running into the cargo bay.

 

            “Mommy!  Noooooo!  Not again!”

 

            The scream coming from the doorway startled several of the Marines, including Drake, who spun to face whatever new threat was coming his way.  He quickly recognized J’coby, yelling out, “Hold your fire!” as more than half the weapons in the room swung toward the small boy.  Several of the compression rifle sights tracked along with J’coby as he dashed across the room, zigging out of the way of several arms that tried to grab him as he ran by.

 

            J’coby’s sprint into the cargo bay caused such a commotion, Hiram Spake – wide-eyed with fear – had no idea which way to look, turning his head left and right, looking at the Marines on the upper level one moment and the crew on the bay floor the next.

 

            “J’coby, no!” K’danz yelled fearfully.

 

            It had not been until the captain yelled that Spake finally saw the little boy barreling toward him, but by then he was less than two meters away and nearly on top of the older boy.  J’coby jumped up at Spake’s arm, pulling it and the shiv away from K’danz’s neck while leaving a light scratch behind on her skin.  As soon as Drake was sure that the sharp weapon was clear of his captain’s neck, he shouted, “Open fire!”  Immediately the cargo bay was overwhelmed with the sound of phasers and compression rifles firing.  Drake had decided to take no further chances, and authorized his Marines to fire on everyone in the far half of the room, phasers set to medium stun.  Everyone at the back end of the cargo bay, including Captain K’danz and little J’coby, were soon lying on the deck, unconscious.

 

            “Carrie!” Dar yelled as he finally came running into the cargo bay.

 

            “It’s alright, Commander,” Drake said, catching Dar before he could run all the way to where his wife lay.  “They’ve only been stunned.  Cargo bay two to sickbay, medical team to cargo bay two, pronto!”

 

            “On our way, Mister Drake,” Dr. Cuomo quickly responded.

 

*          *          *          *

 

            “Entering standard orbit of Sagion III,” Lt Commander Hickam announced.

 

            “Very well,” replied Captain K’danz, who had quickly recovered from her ordeal several days earlier.  With everyone in the cargo bay unconscious, all the teens were quickly relocated to the Bellerophon’s brig as the starship warped toward the planet the Starfleet crew believed was the children’s homeworld.  “Mister Wheeler, open a hailing frequency to the planet.”

 

            “Hailing frequency open,” Lieutenant Wheeler responded.  “Someone on the planet is responding.”

 

            “This is Captain K’danz of the Federation starship Bellerophon.  We believe we found something you lost.”

 

            As contact with the government of Sagion III was established, K’danz explained in detail what had brought the Bellerophon to their planet and the situation they had found on Woodron II.  The government officials, though shocked to learn that the small colony they had expected would be hard at work building a new life on Woodron Prime had actually crashed on another planet, offered any help they could to locate any remaining relatives of the crash survivors.

 

            The next morning, K’danz, Paris, Dar, and Counselor Lucian were standing in the transporter room with Sagion III’s Prime Minister and an aide.  Most of the younger children had already been beamed down to the planet and placed in the custody of relatives, while the ‘Lescents were being turned over to law enforcement authorities.

 

            “We’re so glad you were able to find the families of most of these kids,” K’danz remarked.  “They’ve really been through a terrible ordeal.”

 

            “My government and I are only saddened by the fact that we could not prevent this tragedy.  The religious denomination that Offam Spake officiated over is a small minority, but it seems misfortune often follows its practice, believing as they do that the gods wish only the strongest to survive.  It appears from the report you forwarded to me that most of the ‘Lescents will be facing criminal charges now that they are back in our custody,” the Prime Minister said.

 

            “Criminal charges?” Paris asked, unsure if he had heard correctly.

 

            “Of course, Mister Paris,” the Minister replied.  “‘Lescent Spake and his band of followers committed most unspeakable crimes, murder and cannibalism.  And since most of it occurred aboard the transport, it falls under Sagion’s jurisdiction to punish.”

 

            “But none of the brutality occurred until after the transport crashed,” Counselor Lucian pointed out.

 

            “Be that as it may, the transport, crashed or otherwise, is still considered sovereign Sagion territory as far as our government and punitive system are concerned.”

 

            “What’s the punishment for that?” Counselor Lucian asked.

 

            “They will be tried by a court.  If found guilty, the normal punishment is mind-wiping.  They will be given whole new lives, eventually.”

 

            The calmness of the Prime Minister’s reply sent a chill down the Counselor’s spine, as if wiping all memory was something that happened all the time on Sagion III.

 

            As the Prime Minister spoke, two Sagion guards walked into the transporter room, escorting a shackled and chained Hiram Spake between them.  The teenager looked as if he had been crying for hours, the tough-guy persona he had tried to project in the cargo bay confrontation completely gone, replaced by the look of a beaten puppy.

 

            “Please!  I’m sorry!  Don’t let them take me back there!” the young Spake begged.  “Do you have any idea what they’re going to do to me?  Please don’t make me go back there!”

 

            Captain K’danz glanced at the teen as the guards forcibly pushed him up onto the transport platform and, for a moment, almost felt sorry for him.  Almost.  A moment later the transporter chief activated the controls, and Spake and his two guards dematerialized.

 

            “That takes care of almost all of them.  I do have one other remaining concern, Prime Minister,” K’danz said just as the Sagions started to step up onto the transporter platform.  “According to the records your government has sent us, all of the kids we returned to you have other family on your planet.  But I saw nothing concerning J’coby, the first boy we rescued from Woodron II.”

 

            The Prime Minister frowned as he looked back at K’danz, like she had reminded him of something distasteful he really did not want to think about.

 

            “Yes… um… that boy.  Unfortunately, according to our records, all the members of his small family were aboard the transport to colonize Woodron Prime with him.”

 

            “What will happen to him then?” Dar asked with concern.  In the short time the little boy had been aboard, the half-Klingon engineer had grown fond of him.

 

            “He will likely be placed in an orphanarium,” the minister’s aide answered.  “However, considering his advanced age, combined with the trauma he has suffered and the stigma associated with such a horrendous incident as this one…  He is likely going to be considered a pariah of sorts.  The chances of him ever being placed with a new family are very slight.  More than likely, he will be raised by the state until he comes of age.  Quite frankly, he might have been better off had he died on Woodron II.”

 

            “Dar, can I speak with you for a moment?” K’danz asked, pulling her husband toward the door by his sleeve.  “Please excuse us, Prime Minister.”

 

            The couple stepped out into the corridor just outside the door and started discussing something quietly though animatedly.  It looked like Dar at first could not believe whatever his wife was saying to him, shaking his head briskly.  K’danz then nodded, prompting both to gesture wildly with their hands.  After several minutes, K’danz was shaking her head as Dar nodded.  Then the conversation, whatever it was about, ended as quickly as it began with both of them nodding and smiling before they returned to the transporter room.

 

            “I’m sorry for the interruption, Prime Minister,” K’danz apologized, “but we have a question.  Would you or your government object to my husband Dar and I adopting J’coby?  I understand it may be unusual for aliens from your prospective to want to take a child away from your society, but I think we could support and nurture him better than what you describe would happen to him on your own planet.”

 

            “Are you prepared to care for children aboard your ship, Captain?  A warship is hardly a place for such a young child…”

 

            “The Bellerophon is a ship of exploration, not war, Prime Minister,” K’danz assured.  “And while I can’t guarantee he will be completely safe, families that have included children have served aboard Starfleet vessels in various capacities for years.  Yes, I believe Dar and I could offer J’coby a loving and caring environment here aboard the Belle.”

 

            “It is a highly unusual request, Captain,” the Prime Minister admitted.  “Highly unusual.  But considering the circumstances, I will endorse your request.  Barring any objections from my government or my people, we can conduct an adoption ceremony and make it official in a few days.”

 

            “May J’coby remain aboard the Bellerophon until then?” K’danz asked.

 

            “I believe that would be acceptable,” the Sagion official replied.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Captain’s personal log, stardate 63106.6:

I can’t believe how excited I am!  Yesterday the government of Sagion III officially accepted Dar’s and my request to adopt J’coby.  Today is the day he officially becomes a part of our family!

 

 

            Crews Mess was dark, with the exception of the stars outside the forward windows and a thick lit wax candle sitting on the galley countertop.  Several members of the Bellerophon crew, including Captain K’danz, Commander Paris, Counselor Lucian, and other senior staff members were gathered in the room, standing close to the windows, where six more unlit candles stood atop one of the mess hall tables.

 

            The mess hall doors on the port side hissed open, and Commander Dar, wearing a traditional Klingon robe with a baldric sash displaying the emblems of the House of Kor on it, entered the room solemnly, followed by young J’coby, who also wore a similar, though smaller, Klingon robe.

 

            The two stepped over to the lit candle, picking up two slightly smaller candles from the counter next to it and lighting them from the first.  J’coby then followed Dar across the room, where each proceeded to light three of the candles on the table.  Dar then picked up a second baldric like his own from the back of one of the nearby chairs, this one with a large emblem of the Klingon Empire near the shoulder, and placed it over the head of the young Sagion boy.

 

            “SoS jIH batlh SoH,” Dar recited in Klingon, then turned to the boy and explained, “These words are spoken to honor both of our mothers.  They join our family together as one.  Both families are now stronger because of the bonding.”  He then helped J’coby repeat the phrase, slowly pronouncing the words for the boy to copy.  As the ceremony ended and the room lights brightened, Dar grasped the boy’s arm with his own and said, “You are now, and forever shall be, a member of the House of Kor.”

 

            As some of those gathered in the mess hall applauded quietly, Dar led the young boy around the table to stand between himself and K’danz.  Paris presented the captain with a padd, upon which was displayed a Federation adoption certificate.

 

            “Just enter your thumb prints there, and it’s all legal,” the first officer explained.

 

            K’danz nodded as she accepted the padd from Paris, placing her thumb on the screen which beeped acknowledgement, her digitized signature appearing on the certificate.  She then passed the padd to her husband, who likewise pressed his thumb onto the screen, virtually signing the form.  Finally Dar passed the padd to J’coby.

 

            “Does this mean I get to stay with you forever?” he asked.  “That I never have to go back to where Hiram and the others are?”

 

            “Yes, this means you get to stay with us, for good,” K’danz assured him.  “Just place your thumb on that little box.”

 

            With a smile, the boy stuck his thumb on the screen, filling in the form with his name, a new name that the new family had agreed upon after Dar and K’danz had explained their own family stories and what it meant to be a family aboard a Federation starship to the boy during the days they were waiting for the adoption to be approved officially.  Wanting to leave everything of his old life behind, particularly the memories of Woodron II, the boy had chosen to take the name of K’danz’s father, especially since it happened to be so close to his own, and a variation of Dar’s Klingon family name.  He then passed the padd back to Commander Paris with a smile.  Paris entered his own thumbprint to certify the form, then addressed the small gathering.

 

            “Ladies and gentlemen, crew of the Federation starship Bellerophon, may I present to you the newest member of both the Captain’s and our family…  Jacob Danz.”  And with another round of applause, Counselor Lucian carried a large cake out of the galley and placed it on one of the nearby tables, offering a knife to all three new family members.

 

            “I can’t believe I’m doing this, after all my complaining about the Doctor back aboard Voyager,” Paris commented as he picked up a holographic camera and pointed it at the new family.

 

            “Would you do the honors, Captain?” Counselor Lucian requested.

 

            “We all will,” K’danz replied with a smile as her husband and son both grasped the knife with her and cut into the cake just as Paris snapped the photo.

 

The End

 

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