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“Interesting--”
The sudden note of confusion caught the attention of every person in the room. The gentle beeping and distant drone of the engine continued, but everything else froze. Interesting wasn’t good. Interesting was almost certainly a death sentence, if not for the thing that earned such a description, then for the one who tried to fight it. Especially when it came from the science department.
“What’s interesting, sir?” Sulu asked. All the nerves in the world couldn’t make his hands shake, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have them. Steady hands, steady voice-- this was how he got the job. Plus he was the only one who might have the guts to ask what was going on when the captain was absent.
“I think there must be something wrong with my instruments-- unless there’s something out there, Mr. Sulu.”
“What do you mean, “out there,” sir?”
“Something alive-- tailing us.”
“Alive?” Uhura asked. She might’ve sounded like she didn’t believe him, but she was mostly just surprised the reading could be so off. A life form, in the vacuum? Even if it was possible, the sensor wouldn’t be able to identify it, it would have to be so different from anything in this galaxy.
“What’s alive?” the captain asked, entering the bridge. “Everyone on this ship, I should hope.”
“And, quite possibly, something outside of it, sir,” Spock added. Captain Kirk sent him a look of curiosity that rivaled the one across from it. He nodded towards the front of the bridge, a small grin creeping up the sides of his face. Seeking out new life and new civilization-- that was the dream, right?
“Ensign, put it on visual.”
“Right away, sir.”
And, for the first time in a long time, they didn’t have to magnify. Space was big and the ship was fast, but it was right next to them. And none of them were quite sure exactly what “it” was. A cloud-- or a shadow maybe? A swarm? Sometimes it was so solid it looked like metal, other times, it looked like thousands of tiny spheres, but then it would quickly shift to some sort of gas, nearly transparent. It fluctuated, with no apparent rhythm, except that of its own movement.
“Hm--” the science officer started, clearly bugged by something. He looked almost-- irritated by it. It was an emotion, so he would deny it, but it was obvious.
“Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of us?” the captain asked. The words sounded like a reprimand, but the tone was nearly a tease. An inside joke, with no one inside.
“It is illogical, the way the creature is moving. The way it travels-- the back and forth motion-- is a path approximately 1.2801 times longer than a straight path. Totally inefficient.”
“Thank you for the analysis, Mr.Spock.”
“My pleasure, Captain.”
“Why, Captain,” Uhura said, “It’s like a dolphin!”
In a way, he understood. The up and down movement-- it wasn’t dissimilar from the movement of ocean life back on earth. So familiar, yet so strange. The entire bridge was transfixed by the hypnotizing display. When they finally looked away, it was only due to a call from the ship’s chief surgeon, who simply wanted to inform them that an engineer who had suffered a blow to the head when the ship was boarded by pirates a couple weeks before had been fully rehabilitated.
“That’s wonderful, Doctor, but we need you on the bridge. Bring someone from foreign biosciences with you. We’ve made a new friend--” the entity split itself-- “Or perhaps friends, difficult to say, Kirk out.”
“In this area, there are legends, Captain,” the chief engineer said, turning away from the panel.
“Of what kind, Scotty?”
“Creatures in the vacuum, sir. Like dolphins. They’re said to approach ships, fly alongside for a wee bit, and then disappear. Huge things, the size of four starships. If you try to contact them, they send back weird signals. But this thing’s much too small, even if the stories were true.”
“I’ve heard the stories about earth dolphins,” the Captain said, still watching the creature. “They were known to guide lost ships, rescue drowning sailors, and be curious. They were intelligent for an animal, known for being very playful, especially as children. Perhaps we’re looking at something of a similar pattern.”
“It would be incredibly fascinating to study, Captain.”
“Yes-- we’ll try to establish contact, see if it’s hostile or just curious. Bring us to a halt, helmsman. And do it gradually, so we don’t lose our friends here.”
By the time the pair of doctors had made it to the bridge, the ship had completely stopped. They were greeted by the strange creature, swimming in either joyful or threatening circles around the ship-- it was hard to tell. Finding the bioscience officer hadn’t been too difficult because movement on the ship had nearly come to the halt. Every unoccupied officer was crowded around screens or windows, trying to find this strange, beautiful creature in the dark.
“What in God’s name--” Dr. McCoy started.
“I was hoping you might be able to provide some insight, doctor.”
“I’m a surgeon, not a psychic.”
“And your comment, doctor?” He addressed the bioscience officer, Dr. Redford.
“I’m not certain,” she said. “The way it moves definitely appears organic. It could be a creature or perhaps a number or them-- or even a creature piloting something mechanical, it’s hard to say from this distance.”
“I see,” he paused, weighing his outcomes. For the first time in what seemed a very long time, they encountered a creature that wasn’t in danger, and didn’t appear to be putting anyone else in danger. That was only speculation, of course. He didn’t want another Pioneer 10 incident.
“Lieutenant, send a message-- all known languages, all frequencies”
“Yes, sir. Transmitting now.”
“This is James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. We have no hostile intentions. Please identify yourself.”
A moment slipped quietly past them in the dark.
The creature had stopped moving when they started transmitting, apparently absorbing every soundwave like a ship might take a phaser blast. It consolidated its mass, directly in front of the bridge and appeared to shiver. With it, a single tone was sent back to the communications console.
“Captain-- I’m getting--”
And she wasn’t certain what she was getting. The sustained note sounded like feedback, but it wasn’t it; it couldn’t be. It was coming from every channel, including the internal ones. It wasn’t loud-- in fact, it was exactly mid-volume registering on her sensors. She checked all her readings and found it registered on the middle of everything: pitch, clarity, wavelength, overshoot, decibels, hertz, phons--
“Lieutenant?” he asked.
“Sorry sir, the response is, well--”
“Put it on audio.”
They listened to the noise for a moment, offering no more explanation or insight than Uhura could.
“Do you think that’s an acknowledgement?” Dr. McCoy asked.
“I don’t think they understand,” Dr. Redford shook her head.
“No, I think I’ll have to agree with you, doctor. Send the same message again with Rosetta III. Standard translation protocol. If they have computers, I want them to be able to communicate.”
“Aye aye.”
Uhura wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting when she resent the message. Maybe another tone, maybe nothing, maybe a bunch of nonsense. She was hoping for some computerized voice to say there was a mistake and the weird mass would disappear, but it wasn't likely. On this ship? It was pretty much impossible.
The first time the message repeated in her earpiece, she thought she just pressed the wrong button. She thought, perhaps it was an echo. So she sent it again, nervous that someone might see her floundering. But she didn’t have to worry.
“It’s-- it’s just sending back the same signal. It’s mimicking us.”
“In more ways than one, Captain,” the science officer interjected. He looked away from the communications panel, but before he could look to the science section, he saw something impossible on the screen.
“But that’s--” he trailed off.
“It is an exact copy, captain.”
He stared in an almost horrified curiosity at the ship in front of him, the same ship he was standing in. From the giant printed letters labeling the front to the spiraling colors of the back engines. The Enterprise was sitting directly in front of the Enterprise.
“--T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. We have no--” the message played through the speakers.
“Spock, what do the scanners say? Are we... on that ship?”
“Only registering on life form, Captain. I have reason to believe it’s the ship itself, performing all normal functions on its own agenda.”
“Normally I might suggest we beam aboard, but with the shifting nature of that thing--”
And in that very second, it shifted again. Still dark, still metallic, still mimicry-- but this time, not a ship. This time, it looked like a human. Well, sort of. It was missing several crucial features-- such as a face, hair, or fingers-- but it seemed to be breathing. How it was breathing in the vacuum, he wasn’t sure, but seeing that body, floating in the dark made him spring into action. He didn’t want to repeat the mistake he made with the alien probe-- but this thing was alive. It was mimicking them and it might accidentally mimic the human tendency to die in the vacuum of space. He spoke into the comm system.
“Engineering, one to beam up at these coordinates.”
“Right away, sir.”
“Dr. McCoy, Dr. Redford, Mr. Spock, if you’ll accompany me to the transporter room.”
The members of the greeting party had nearly perfected the speed necessary to arrive in the transported room exactly as a visitor was boarding. With luck, they could get there before. It was embarrassing to enter after-- it kind of defeated the purpose of being a welcoming party. They almost had to embrace it when the creature entered the room. Almost. The four of them slid through the doors just as the creature returned to a swarm-like state.
“Welcome aboard the USS Enterprise. Are you able to communicate with us?” he asked, suddenly relieved that the creature didn’t appear to be dying in the atmosphere.
The creature didn’t respond-- not audibly, anyway. It floated off the transporter and towards him. Fighting the urge to step back, he looked at the creature where he suspected its eyes might be.
And then it looked back.
He blinked in surprise; he recognized the eyes he was looking at. Looking down, he recognized the rest of him, too. Blonde hair, blue eyes, medium height, green shirt with that familiar insignia-- it was like looking in a mirror. Sort of. It was a mirror that didn’t really care what expression he was making. He-- it-- they? The double looked at the Captain with a childish curiosity. Its feet were planted a couple feet away, but they leaned in to be much closer, standing on their toes. It was a delicate posture, careful, but unafraid-- though he couldn’t say he had ever taken it before.
“Ca-- Captain?” Bones started, and looked between the pair. They looked to the doctor in sync, but the double shifted. First, for a moment into a gas, then into Dr. McCoy himself. They peered at each other, one obviously offended at being portrayed as so old.
“Fascinating,” Spock said. The creature twisted into gas and moved in front of him; the curious look seemed out of place on his face. Looking into his own eyes, Spock continued, unphased.
“I think the creature is mimicking us in an attempt to learn. Much like a child learns to speak--”
But he trailed off, watching the creature transform as he spoke. Even though they lacked a real understanding of language, Spock had enough low-level psychic ability that they knew what he was saying. In an attempt to prove that they could communicate with humans, they kept the image of the science officer-- just in a younger version of him. Immediately, instinct took over. Without thinking, he reached for the vulcan child who didn’t even flinch at being grabbed.
“Spock?” the captain wasn’t sure what happened-- it had all been so quick. The science officer was shaken back to reality. He apologized, struggling to explain what had taken over him. It was embarrassment that prevented him, something he could control. He was only part-way through his spiel on vulcan biology before the doctor lost interest.
“My god--” Bones said, looking at the tiny being-- huge dark eyes, round cheeks tinted slightly green, little pointed ears. For once, he looked less like a biblical devil and more like a Christmas elf.
“I’m afraid not, doctor. That is only…” he hesitated, “me.”
“You were adorable,” he said, without the hint of compliment in his voice. He was more shocked than anything. He hadn’t meant to say it and realized his mistake too late.
“Thank you, doctor.”
“A shame you couldn’t’ve stayed that way,” he added, trying to make up for the nice thing he said. The captain shot him a glance, but didn’t interfere-- this rivalry was too deep to wade into just now, especially in front of guests. He had to agree of course; the miniature version of his first officer was very cute.
He knelt down to look the child in the eye, who morphed quickly into the face he remembered from photographs. For a moment, it was like looking at the pictures framed on the walls of his grandmother’s home. This version of himself-- maybe 6 or 7-- even had the same dumb haircut that had been so popular among boys a couple decades or so ago. It looked at him quizzically, tilting his head to the side. He sighed as the creature knelt down in response, mimicking his stance.
“Are you in distress? Or just curious?”
The creature returned a long strand of gibberish and reached for the captain's shoulder, similar to the way Spock had reached for theirs. He shook his head and stood-- what was the point? He couldn’t be sure what this thing was. He brought it aboard on a snap judgment and he didn’t regret it-- not yet, anyway. It couldn’t communicate, not in a way he understood, and it didn’t appear to be in any danger.
“Captain, if the creature is incapable of communication, there is still the option of the Vulcan Mind Meld.”
“Only if you’re comfortable with it, Mr. Spock.”
“Comfort--?” he asked, feigning surprise. He was familiar with the emotion, of course. He had felt it on numerous occasions, but it was embarrassing to have his captain attempt to take his feelings into account. Even if it was uncomfortable, it didn’t matter. It was his job. Living with humans, working with them-- everything was uncomfortable.
“Right. Go ahead, then.”
If you happen to be curious about exactly how weird it was for the Enterprise’s first officer to communicate with the creature, imagine sharing a long, passionate kiss. With a shoulder. Of a cow. It’s a clean cow-- doesn’t smell so bad, hair well kept-- but a cow nonetheless. If you can imagine that, you can imagine what it’s like to be a half-vulcan, putting your hands on the face of a pristine, human child that materialized out of space.
“Our minds are one,” he offered, as helpful as he knew how to be. “I am Spock. I am…”
He trailed off, searching for the creature’s name. It usually wasn’t so hard to find, but it was like trying to find a pattern in pi; if it was there at all, it was either too long, or too complex for him to articulate. The only name he could find was his own, in their shared mind. He didn’t even realize as the creature morphed back into his visage.
“No, you can’t also be Spock, you need your own name,” he chided. He shook his head and re-focussed, giving up on the name. Maybe there were creatures that didn’t have names-- it didn’t matter, as long as they could find some way to communicate.
“I am--” he started, slowly piecing the words together. The creature was eager to share a mind, but didn’t have much to say. It offered up the few things it understood, and he translated them into words. He continued--
“Alone.”
“Alone?” Kirk asked. It was always a little jarring to hear his calm, ever logical, first officer talk while in this state. He had to remind himself, even though it was Spock’s voice, it was the other creature’s thoughts.
“I was on a star, with others. I was in the dark, with others. And now I am here, alone. You aren’t a star, or dust, or dark. But you aren’t one of them, either. Will you play with me?”
“Who are the others?” the captain asked. Spock translated the question into pure thought for the creature. He had been unable to find a language to share, so he relied entirely on sharing thoughts without language. The creature seemed unphased by this, as if this was its normal way of communicating.
“I was with them on the star, we traveled in the dark, to other stars,” Spock said, trying to find the english that matched the ideas in his head. A history, memories that were slurred and blurred for over a hundred years. Time makes all things bleed together, but some things were clear. The others-- they were so large, so full of life. They were constantly shifting, like a living ocean. And the stars-- Spock could see the stars-- burning and dying.
“We drank the stars,” he said. “I was with them-- when I was for the first time. I was smaller, I drank the star and I am larger. But the others are more. They were before me. There are some smaller than me, who were after me. We played many games. Do you want to play a game with me?”
“Don’t you want to find them again?” The smile on his first officer’s face was distracting, if not a little disturbing in its wide earnestness. He wasn’t exactly excited to find out what a creature that could eat a star could classify as a “game,” but he could avoid the subject well enough. He had figured out this thing was talking about a family, perhaps a colony-- if he could return a lost child, he would not only be helping some strange alien parents, but the federation as well. The knowledge of beings that change form and survive in the vacuum would be a great asset and might prove to be useful for any unsuspecting vessels traveling in the area.
“I…” Spock started. “I don’t know where they are. In the dark or near a star or in the dust… I cannot find them again. I am alone.”
“We can help you. You don’t have to be alone,” he said, as gently as possible. He wasn’t certain whether he should be addressing Spock or the half conscious, child Spock, so he sent it out generally between the two. He wasn’t used to dealing with lost children, not out in the middle of space, anyway, but he could do his best. The real Spock shook his mind free of the meld and stood.
“Captain,” he said, “The creature does not appear to pose any serious threat. I could detect no underlying negative emotion or violent tendencies. I would like to perform further study on this creature. The properties and abilities could prove very useful to expand the current database of galactic knowledge.”
He didn’t want to acknowledge his own feelings of protectiveness-- let alone admit them to his Captain-- but he felt uncharacteristically endeared to the small mirror. Of course, he understood the biological and evolutionary necessity to have an instinct for protecting children, but that didn’t make instinct any less unbearable.
“That’s wonderful, Mr. Spock, but I don’t think you’ll be very good at children's games. I think Dr. McCoy and Dr. Redford better accompany you for that,” he smiled. “I’ll be on the bridge, getting a message to Starfleet command. Learn all you can-- send any data that might be relevant for long range scanning to Sulu. If you can find a more efficient form of communication, I want to know immediately.”
Kirk left without physically looking back, but much of his mind was occupied with how the trio might deal with the creature. He wanted to figure it out alongside them, but if it wasn’t dangerous, then he’d be much better suited speaking, making a log entry, and trying to keep the promise he made. He was going to help his creature, even if he was late to the check-in on Gamma-IV.
Bones, on his part, was struggling.
“Right this way,” he said, holding the door expectantly for the tiny Spock. The creature looked at him without understanding, shifting into a tiny, grumpy child he remembered from photos and only vaguely remembered being. The creature did not move, and instead mimicked his gesture. Dr.McCoy suddenly realized that this was going to be very difficult.
Spock, using all the casual psychic power he had, walked to the opposite side of the door and spoke to the miniature McCoy. Did he want to show him up? Yes. Would he ever admit that? No. Did he derive satisfaction from seeing a little version of his petulant coworker do whatever he asked? Absolutely.
“If you’ll accompany me--” he said.
“--to the enrichment center,” Dr. Redford finished. There were hundreds of rooms aboard the enterprise, with dozens devoted solely for the purpose of holding a live subject for study. Redford, as a foreign bioscientist, knew all of them and the differences between. There were some for humanoids, for mamilians, small creatures, large creatures, complex creatures, fragile creatures, and, most pressingly, creatures that looked like small humans and wanted to play. Dr. McCoy didn’t know about most of these rooms and was bitter about it.
“Or course, doctor. Follow me,” he told the creature. It seemed to process for a moment, little facial muscles scrunching up so tightly they could barely see the bright blue eyes behind the shaggy brown bowl-cut. Figuring out the vulcan telepathy was a challenge, but once they managed it, they followed the tall man without question. Why even think about it? They had never had a natural predator in any realistic evolutionary time frame. They weren’t afraid of anything. Well, anything except being alone.
The creature took a step forward, like they had observed everyone around them do countless times, but miscalculated and fell flat on their face. Dr. Redford sighed and picked the creature up, setting them rightside up. For a small being, she hadn’t expected it to be so dense.
“Go on,” she said, pointing toward the first officer. “Try again.”
Dr. McCoy was a little set off by the copy of him. It was a developmental nightmare: the body of a child, with the gait of a toddler, the mouth of an infant, the mind of an adolescent, and the age of-- well it was old and that’s all he could be sure of. He watched himself stumble across the transporter room and through the doorway, grinning the whole way. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to grin.
“No, not there,” Spock said and moved the rook back to the second plane. He knew there wasn’t much point in playing with the child-- the rules were too complex to communicate. It was just the only game he was certain he knew how to play. The creature had been insistent during the mind meld, but it hadn’t been very specific.
“No,” the creature repeated, mimicking the hand motion he had made and moving one of his pieces to a lower board.
He sighed.
The creature had been on the ship for all of 15 minutes and had already managed to wriggle two emotional responses out of Mr. Spock. They also managed to form a word, though didn’t understand what it meant-- it was just the sound that needed to be made when playing the incredibly boring physical game that was tri-dimensional chess. To the creature, it was just taking turns moving objects; it was more like a job than a game.
“No?” Dr. Redford repeated, approaching from the observing side of the room. The room was split into three parts: the enrichment area, which resembled a simple playground; the observing area, which was separated by a short wall and gate; and the table area, which had the cafeteria machines and, currently, a floundering game of chess.
“No?” the creature repeated, sliding out of the chair. They transformed into a mirror of Redford, forgetting the idea they had found in the tall man’s mind. They understood they had achieved something, but weren’t sure what. When the woman said it, the word sounded different and she wasn’t moving the pieces. But it was clearly the same sound.
“No!” they said again and shifted into a smaller version of the biologist. They trailed off, sprinting full speed into the playground. “No, no, no…”
“This is going to take awhile,” the real Redford sighed.