#trekweek

The blue light enveloped the mass relay, so huge out the window that they could only see a fraction of it, the Enterprise along with it. Jim grinned as it cast its glow on the men in the cockpit.

He never got tired of watching this.

The light faded as they hurtled through space, the stars warping and changing outside the window as the mass relay catapulted them hundreds of light years through the galaxy.

"Thrusters, check…"

Jim hardly paid attention to Sulu's post-jump checkthrough, too focused on watching out the windows, though he did notice that the man sounded extremely pleased with himself.

"And you've made sure to adjust the external inertial dampener correctly, correct?"

The noticeable flanging in the voice caused heads to turn—Jim's and Gary Mitchell's, at least. Jim hadn't noticed the Turian walk in, and he tensed when he saw how close the alien was. With avian features, a dark brown carapace, and striking white facial tattoos that reached up to the tip of the crest on his head, Nihlus cut an imposing figure.

"Of course I have." Jim couldn't see Sulu's face, but he could hear the annoyance in his voice.

"Good."

Jim turned to eye Nihlus appraisingly, but the Turian turned, nodded in his direction, and headed back out of the cockpit. Jim watched him as he left. The unease he had left in his wake was palpable: from the moment Nihlus had been assigned to the test run of the new ship, one word had been murmured in his wake: Spectre. Jim was passing familiar with the word, but not with the details, only that they carried a significant amount of galactic authority.

"I hate him," Sulu said through gritted teeth.

"To be fair," Mitchell said conversationally, glancing up from his monitoring, "you have a history."

"That was one time, and there's no reason he should know that." Sulu glanced over his shoulder, back in the direction from which Nihlus had come. "Maybe. Who can tell? Spectres are trouble, and I don't like having one on board."

Jim tilted his head. True, he hadn't exchanged more than two words with Nihlus, but he didn't seem like that bad of a guy, if you overlooked the whole mandibles thing.

"The council invested in this ship. It isn't surprising that they'd send someone to keep an eye on it."

"Yeah, that's what they say. I don't believe that bullshit."

"It is just a shakedown run," Jim broke in, resting an elbow on the back of Sulu's chair. "So there's bound to be something else going on here."

"See?"

Jim glanced over at Mitchell, who was glaring at him and trying not to smile. While they were decent acquaintances, Jim had the feeling that they wouldn't exactly be the types to see eye to eye.

"Sulu?" Captain Pike's voice crackled to life through the speakers. His tone was sharp. "Status report."

"Doing fine. Stealth systems working like a charm."

"Good."

Sulu cut in before Pike could continue. "Better watch out for Nihlus, by the way. Think he's headed in your direction."

"I'm aware. He's right here, actually." Jim tried and failed to keep from snorting slightly in amusement at the icy tone in Pike's voice. "Tell Commander Kirk to head up to the comm room. I need to speak with him. Pike out."

Jim's smile vanished at the words. He reached out to give the back of Sulu's head a halfhearted shove. "Now look. You made him mad."

"That's just Sulu." Mitchell's voice was tinged with barely-contained humor that Jim had shared until Pike's request.

"Hope so." Jim grimaced and turned, heading into the CIC and towards the comm room, but paused at the sight of DeSalle speaking into the comm. The navigator's voice was urgent and low, but Jim was close enough to hear the words.

"I just saw him. Walked right past, like he's on some kind of mission."

"He's a Spectre," came the reply, a cocky male voice with a rough south English accent. "Of course he is."

"Well, we're the ones who are going to get stuck in the middle—"

"You say that like it's a bad thing." The man on the other end was laughing now. "More fun that way."

Of course, it was right then that DeSalle spotted Jim and switched off the comm hurriedly. "Commander Kirk."

Jim paused, eyeing him for a moment. The man looked slightly guilty, and if something was wrong…

"Everything all right?" He kept his tone light, but the look he gave DeSalle was one of slight warning.

DeSalle shifted. "Yes, Commander. Was speaking with Olson, down in engineering. Just a bit… concerned."

Jim raised his eyebrows, indicating that he should continue.

DeSalle sighed. "This is supposed to be a test run, try out the Enterprise's stealth systems. But they put together a full crew, which is more expensive and riskier, security-wise. And Captain Pike along, too?"

Jim stiffened at the words. "Is there something the matter with Captain Pike?"

DeSalle caught the look in Jim's eyes and shook his head quickly. "Not at all, Commander. Exactly the opposite. He's the best. Everyone knows who he is. So why is he on a test mission?"

Jim relaxed, then tilted his head, a small smile forming on his face as he sorted out the pieces, remembering the way Pike had been distracted the entire trip. "He did seem concerned. And with Nihlus here…"

"Exactly. Spectres don't answer to Starfleet." DeSalle shook his head. "Whatever's happening, I just hope it doesn't go completely pear-shaped."

Jim promised to look into it and headed towards the comm room again, only to be stopped by an excited exclamation.

"Commander!"

Mallory's voice again, brimming with excitement. Jim paused, glancing over at the corporal. He stood near the door, practically bouncing on his toes, and had until a moment ago been engaged with—damn, Jim couldn't remember the other man's name, but he was tall and brunette, slightly tanned, with a [ solid, square face; a full bottom lip;] hazel eyes; and a scowl that Jim vaguely remembered and wondered if it was permanently etched on his face.

"Mallory." Jim nodded, intending to inform him that he needed to go, but Mallory broke in first, excited to have Jim's attention.

"I—we—heard you talking to DeSalle, and I was just telling the doc here. I grew up on Eden Prime!" Mallory glanced to the other man, doc, then back to Jim, his tone eager. "It's not the kind of place any Spectre would bother visiting. Nihlus is with us for some reason."

For a moment, Jim was concerned that the doctor's eyes would pop out of his head. He wasn't sure he had ever seen a human being roll their eyes that hard, and he couldn't stop the small snort of laughter, earning him a glare alongside the corporal. "You really think that the Captain is taking orders from a Spectre? Not a chance."

Jim wasn't sure he had ever heard a voice that was so full of equal parts Southern irritation and scorn. He was also fairly certain that the scorn would worsen if he pointed out that it was more endearing than intimidating. While a tempting prospect, his curiosity was too piqued to go antagonizing anyone.

"It isn't like he'd have a choice!," Mallory protested. "Spectres don't answer to anyone. They can do what they want, kill whoever gets in their way."

The doctor's longsuffering sigh nearly had Jim smiling again. "Please. This ain't a spy novel, it's a real life mission."

Jim cocked his head, eyeing the doctor curiously. "You're familiar with Spectres, then? Any idea what one is doing on the ship?"

The doctor shook his head, grimacing slightly. "Know a bit about 'em. Y'know, basic stuff. Work directly for the Citadel Council. Not really part of military, or chain of command. Not Galactic military, anyway. Operate outside of it, keep galactic peace and stability."

"Yeah, at any cost. They're immune to the law. Can do whatever they want!"

Jim just shook his head slightly. "Thanks, uh…" He paused, glancing hopefully over at the doctor, who just snorted.

"McCoy. Leonard McCoy."

"Right. Thank you, Doctor McCoy."

"'Course." McCoy eyed him up and down. "And everyone knows who you are, Commander Kirk."

Jim wasn’t sure if the tone was supposed to be scornful or resigned. Maybe a bit of both. He couldn't resist the grin anymore, aiming it in the doctor's direction. "So I've been told."

McCoy grimaced again, though Jim was almost positive it was to hide a smile this time.

"Hey, Commander, you'd make a great Spectre!"

Jim turned his head towards Mallory, though his eyes rested on McCoy, who had rolled his eyes heavenward again, for a few seconds longer. "Yeah? You think so?"

"Of course! The way you handled the Skyllian Blitz? Rallied the colonists? Single-handedly held off the pirates and slavers? Who else for a human Spectre?"

While Mallory seemed like he was about to burst with excitement, Jim wondered if McCoy wasn't about to burst a stress ulcer, from the expression on his face. Jim couldn't keep the grin from widening.

"Are there any human Spectres, Doctor McCoy?"

McCoy shook his head. "Doubt they're interested. It's mostly council races—Turians, Asari, Salarians. Grapevine says Starfleet's been tryin' to get someone in, but hasn't happened yet." He shrugged.

"The point is, Commander. The look Mallory shot Jim was pleading. "This is Eden Prime. A Spectre means there's something going on, but not here."

Jim's grin faded into something of a more thoughtful expression. While he wanted to think Pike would tell him the truth behind whatever was going on, he supposed there was a chance he would have to do his own investigating. "You grew up here, right? What's it like?"

Mallory shrugged. "Stable. Boring. I mean, peaceful, if that's what you want. It has its name for a reason. No pollution or anything, since they were real careful with development. There's a reason I transferred off first chance I got. Nothing dangerous there."

McCoy scoffed. "No danger. Kid, space is danger. Ain't nowhere you can go that's safe."

"Yeah, but nothing worth a Spectre." Mallory bounced on the balls of his feet again. "Man, that must mean we're going somewhere after, though. Can't wait to see some real action!"

"Kid, your idea of 'real action' would have me fixin' half the crew in the infirmary." McCoy's scowl had deepened, something Jim hadn't thought possible, and he took pity on the man.

"Doc's right, Mallory," Jim cut in. "You need to calm down and keep your head on straight. You won't do anyone any good if you're worked up."

Mallory stilled a bit. "Right, Commander. Sorry, sir. Won't happen again."

Jim nodded a bit distractedly. "I've got to see the Captain, though. Try not to stress the good doctor into an aneurysm while I'm gone." He darted away before McCoy could respond. He wasn't too concerned about Mallory, but Jim could already tell that if he got into it with the doctor, he wouldn't want to leave.

He stepped through the doors, lips curving up as he prepared to greet Pike, but the lone figure in the comm room was decidedly not human.

"Commander." Nihlus's voice was polite, though his eyes were considering—Jim thought. It was hard to read Turian expressions. "I'm glad to see you here. I hoped we would get a chance to talk."

Jim frowned. "About what? Where's Pike?"

"The Captain will be here in a moment." Nihlus locked his arms behind his back and turned away from Jim. "This colony, Eden Prime. It's interesting. A symbol for humanity, yes? Its most stable colony. Proof that you're able to maintain and protect your assets, even on the edge of the unregulated Terminus systems."

"I wouldn't know, as I've never been there." He stated it dryly, but Nihlus ignored it.

"I didn't ask if you had, Commander." Nihlus paused for a moment. "But is it really safe?"

Jim straightened and narrowed his eyes. "Is there something you know that I don't?"

"I am… merely observing. Humanity has been up here little more than a century. I want to know if you are actually ready."

"Already getting him worked up, Nihlus?"

Jim turned at the familiar voice, relaxing slightly as Pike walked up to the two of them. "Captain."

Pike nodded at him, a smile flitting across his face. "I haven't exactly been honest with you, son."

"Well, you haven't exactly been subtle about that, either." Though Jim kept his expression perfectly innocent and respectful, Pike knew better.

"Well, the crew isn't stupid. We're making a pickup on Eden Prime, which is why we need the stealth systems. We're the only Starfleet ship that is completely invisible to sensors and scans."

Jim pressed his lips together. He nearly asked why Pike had kept the information from him, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What's this mysterious pickup, then?"

"It's a beacon. A Prothean beacon."

Jim racked his brains, attempting to recall details about the unexpected terminology. While the Protheans had vanished half a million years ago, archeology teams were still actively unearthing artifacts across the galaxy. In some cases, the artifacts still functioned. The galaxy owed much of its technology to Prothean design - it was the Protheans who had constructed the mass relays, who had built the Citadel, the heart of the galaxy. Nearly every species since had built their technology on a Prothean foundation.

"So, a chance to boost our tech another few hundred years?" Jim tried to keep his tone light.

"At least. This beacon is huge. Much bigger than the one that sent us into the stars. And we're on the edge of unprotected space. There are plenty of unsavory types in the Terminus Systems who would think nothing of massacring a colony to get their hands on it. You know that."

Pike's eyes met Jim's, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. He absolutely did know, and gritted his teeth.

"So he's here to help us get it out without trouble."

"Well…" Pike hesitated. "Yes. And no. He's also here to evaluate you."

Though Jim had no context for the remark, it still stung, and badly. I need to be evaluated? And why by a Turian? Their species was known for their military prowess, but Jim would have thought that Pike would tell him if he had screwed up. His mind raced through the past several months, trying to pinpoint what it might have been.

Still, he tried to keep his head high. "Explains why I can't turn around without running into him." His tone was light; even Pike wouldn't have been able to sense how upset he was.

"Yes." Nihlus spoke this time. "I've heard much about you. You made a name for yourself at the Skyllian Blitz. Starfleet considers you a war hero. And the Captain speaks very highly of you."

Jim stared, waiting for the "but."

"And that's why I put your name forward for Spectre candidacy."

The world simultaneously dropped out from under him and spun around him. "I—what?" He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself, and seized the first question that came into his mind. "But why would a Turian want a human in the Spectres?"

Nihlus snorted, looking mildly amused. "The first contact war was over a century ago. We don't resent your species. Not all of us. Your species has much to offer the entire galaxy, but more importantly, you possess an elite skill set that is difficult to find among any species. I don't care if you're human. I care if you have the ability."

Jim took several more deep breaths. The ship seemed to have stopped spinning, though he still felt lightheaded. He glanced over at Pike, staring at him with the same intensity he had years ago, in a seedy bar in Iowa, at a bruised and beaten Jim who was bitter at the world.

I dare you to do better.

Jim nodded. "Just tell me what I have to do."

"I'm glad." Pike reached out to clasp Jim's shoulder. "You'll make humanity proud."  And me.  The words remained unspoken, but they meant far more to Jim.

Jim nodded mutely, and Nihlus spoke up. "I will be evaluating you over several missions. This is the first. I need to see your skill set."

"I can—"

"Captain!" The urgency in Sulu's voice caused all three of their heads to jerk up. "We've got a problem! Transmission from Eden Prime!"

Without waiting for instructions—that meant it had to be dire—the screen in the comm room flickered to life. The image was fuzzy, but Jim could make out a woman, covered head to toe in armor, running towards them. Though he could see panic in her dark eyes through the visor, her expression was contained.

"Get down!" she yelled, reaching out to shove at whoever was taking the picture, tackling him into cover.

"We are under attack!" The transmitter's voice, this one male, crackled to life. "We're taking heavy casualties—oh god, they're coming from all sides—we need evac now!" Jim caught flashes of marines and—something else, whatever they were shooting at. Mechs, maybe? "They came out of nowhere! We—"

The speaker broke off with a flash of blood, and he jerked backwards and out of sight. The camera gyrated wildly for a moment, showing glimpses of weapon fire and limbs flailing as bodies flew everywhere. There was a flash of something dark in the sky, large and monstrous, but the feed jerked to the side before any of them could get a clear look, then went grey.

"That's it, Captain. They've gone dark. We—there's nothing from the planet."

"Reverse the video feed and hold at thirty-eight point five." Pike's voice was tense.

The images played backwards and halted, showing the monstrosity in the sky. Something that huge had to be some kind of spacecraft, he told himself, but it was unlike any spacecraft he had seen before. It almost resembled a giant black hand, but with all of the humanity stripped from it, with five eerie, alien appendages stretching down and curling, grasping for something.

"I've never seen those kinds of mechs before, Captain," Jim said after a moment. "Or a spacecraft like that. Do you think it's something from the Terminus systens?"

Neither Pike nor Nihlus turned away from the screen, the giant object hovering in the frame.

"I don't know, son."

—

"Your team will be providing fire support, Kirk." Pike faced the three of them, Jim, Mitchell, and Mallory, suited up and ready for the drop. "You go in fast. We need that beacon, and we need it yesterday."

Jim nodded. "And rescuing survivors, Captain?"

Pike pressed his lips together. "Secondary objective, Commander. The beacon is your top priority."

Jim almost argued, but the expression on his face and Nihlus's presence kept him quiet.

"Nihlus will be scouting ahead and sending you status reports," Pike continued as the Enterprise swooped in low.

"Aye aye, sir."

"And Commander?"

Jim turned back, meeting Pike's eyes.

"Good luck."

—

They had been expecting fire the moment they touched down in the small canyon, but it was just smothered in smoke and silence. Instead, they found the bodies.

They had been charred beyond recognition and tossed carelessly aside, appendages twisted into grotesque positions. Five of them, strewn on the ground in the small clearing that was surrounded by rocky outcroppings.

"Oh—oh my god." Mallory's voice was choked, and he had lowered his weapon, staring in shock.

"Careful not to be sick in your visor, corporal," Mitchell said softly as Jim turned to watch him.

"I—right—" Mallory's head jerked up, hurrying to catch up with the other two men. "I just—I don't know what happened here."

"You and I both, Mallory." Jim kept his voice firm, but reassuring. "Stay focused. We'll find out what happened here, and get any survivors we can out."

Mallory nodded and continued, but Jim thought he caught a flash of anger on his face before he turned away.

When they reached a corner where the rocks were piled high, obscuring their view, Jim lifted his hand, calling for a stop. Mitchell halted immediately, but Mallory jogged past them, heading for cover behind a tree.

"Corporal—!"

Two loud shots rang through the canyon, drowning out Jim's voice, and Mallory jerked backwards. Jim's breath caught as he watched the young man fall back onto the ground, small puffs of dust rising from the fall.

"Gary!" he cried at his one remaining team member, and pointed in the direction of the fire. Mitchell nodded and ducked, rolling for cover as Jim peered out behind the rocks, taking aim and firing. It was too far away for them to see exactly what kind of mechs they were, but thankfully the distance also made it easier for them to shoot from cover without being hit. Moments later, the three mechs were down and Jim was scrambling towards the fallen marine.

"Mallory?" He reached out with a gloved hand, shaking the shoulder of his armor. The kid's eyes were wide and blank, and Jim had to bite down a surge of rage at whoever had done this.

"Commander—"

"Yeah." Jim inhaled sharply, getting slowly to his feet, unable to tear his eyes away from his crewman. "I—we'll come back for him after this mission. Bury him properly." Jim lifted his shotgun, turning away. "But for now, we get this done."

"Yes, sir."

They met more of the mechs as they continued. They were odd, no bigger than Jim's head, and they darted through the air at about that height, firing at them whenever in sight. They weren't difficult to pick off, but Jim had never seen tech designed like it.

Nihlus's voice came over the radio a few minutes later. "We've got burned out buildings and a lot of bodies here. I'm going to take a look. Meet you at the dig site."

Jim gave a curt affirmative and continued on, lifting his shotgun when he saw sudden movement. He nearly fired before realizing that the form sprinting and ducking for cover was very definitely human, and it was being chased by something very definitely not.

Jim and Mitchell rushed in, providing cover fire and blowing the small group of mechs—larger ones, about human-sized—to pieces. When they were destroyed, Jim hurried over and knelt, recognizing the dark eyes and skin of the woman from the transmission.

"Thank you," she gasped out, eyes wide, not just with fear, but with anger as well.

"You all right?"

She nodded, breathing heavily as she caught her breath. "Burns, bruises, scrapes. I'll live." She swallowed. "Gunnery Chief Nyota Uhura of the 212. Are you in charge?"

Jim nodded. "Commander Jim Kirk. What happened here?"

Uhura's breathing had steadied some, now that she wasn't in imminent danger of being shot full of holes. "I'm not sure. We were patrolling when the—those things hit. Tried to double back, but there was an ambush, and…" She clenched her jaw as she trailed off. "I think I'm the only one left."

"Hey." Uhura turned to look at him. "Don't beat yourself up over this, all right?"

She closed her eyes and nodded. "I know. We did the best we could, but the Geth—"

"The Geth?" Mitchell interrupted, disbelieving. "But they haven't been seen—"

"In hundreds of years. I know. But there's a beacon just sitting out here. Clearly they decided it was worth coming outside the veil for."

Jim took a deep breath. If this was really an attack by the Geth, the Quarian-created AIs that had gone rogue—the only AIs in the galaxy now, for that reason—then they were in worse trouble than he had initially thought.

"Sounds like we could use some extra firepower, then. Come with us."

Uhura cracked her neck and stood, lifting her gun. "Absolutely.  Not going to pass up the opportunity to shoot Geth.  Not now."

Jim nodded. "This is Staff Lieutenant Gary Mitchell. Glad to have you with us."

She just nodded at him and turned to head further along the trench.

Jim jogged to catch up with her. "Anything you know about the beacon that might explain why the Geth are here?"

"No." She shook her head. "They were digging for a monorail and found it, and the scientists thought it might be one of the biggest discoveries of the century. But we don't have anything further on that. The beacon's at the end of the trench. The scientists have set up camp, so maybe there are still—"

"Shit!" Jim hadn't meant to interrupt her, but the sight of a cluster of three metal spikes, each about fifteen feet tall, startled him. It wasn't the spikes themselves that were startling, but the fact that there was a body impaled on each of them, right through the middle. "What—"

"The Geth." Uhura's voice was steady, though Jim could hear the anger behind it. "I've seen them dragging colonists onto the bases, and the metal impales them."

"But… why? Psychological warfare, maybe, but…"

"Honestly, Commander? I have no idea."

Jim just nodded, pointedly ignoring that Mitchell had gone green.

The small pockets of Geth patrolling the area were fairly easy to destroy. As they continued further into the infested territory, Uhura stopped the others.

"There," she said, tilting her head towards a circular metal platform, and the others hurried after her. "Damn it," she muttered, looking around. "The beacon was here. Someone moved it."

"Yeah, but who? Us or the Geth?" Mitchell frowned.

"No way to tell, not yet. Uhura, any idea where they might be?"

She nodded. "The camp is just up this ridge. If there are any survivors, they'll be there."

None of them spoke as they continued, interrupted only by a transmission from Nihlus: "Change of plans. There's a spaceport up ahead. I'll meet you there."

The camp was a mess, much of the housing collapsed in on itself and small fires burning in some places. And spikes. A lot of the spikes.

The spikes moved.

"Oh my god." Jim heard Mitchell's horrified voice as the limbs of the impaled victims began to twitch. "Are they still alive?"

"No," Jim breathed. The bodies were now only human in shape. Their skin had shrunk, were now practically featureless, and blue lights emanating from the limbs, torso, and face put Jim in mind of a cybernetic alteration that had stripped away anything resembling humanity.

"What did the Geth do to them?" he heard Uhura whisper, horror in her voice.

Alerted to their presence, the creatures rushed forward in an attack.

Jim shut off every part of his mind except the soldier in him, refusing to think about what—who—these things had once been. He could be horrified later, he told himself, as he stared at the dozen or so bodies the three of them had left scattered on the trench's floor.

"Survivors," Jim barked, turning towards the cluster of residences and wincing. Most of them weren't worth checking, little more than heaps of metal and rubble, but one…"

"There's a security lock on this," Mitchell said, examining the door. "Just a second…"

As the door hissed open, Jim had to duck a rock thrown in the general direction of his head. Lifting his gun, he saw a younger woman, accompanied by a man who seemed to be a few years older.

"Sorry!" she gasped out, lifting her hands. "I didn't—I thought you were—"

"It's all right." Jim lowered the shotgun and stepped inside. The two of them seemed to be scientists, judging by their clothing, and the man had wrapped his arms around, hunched in on himself. "Commander Kirk, Starfleet. We're here to help."

She nodded. "I—I'm Doctor Warren. I was in charge of—well, of this," she gestured.

"It's ended," the man mumbled, and Jim glanced over at him with alarm. "The age of humans. The only thing left will be dust and corpses."

"Is he…?"

Doctor Warren shook her head. "He's—he's been unsettled since the attack. Manuel is brilliant, he just—I gave him some of his meds. He should be all right soon."

"Harbinger of darkness. Agents of destruction—"

"Have you seen a Turian anywhere?" Jim cut in, glancing at the man uneasily.

"No." She shook her head. "We—we've been in here since the attack." She took a deep breath. "The marines, they held off the Geth while we hid, but—"

"I did!" Manuel's voice cut in sharply. "The Turian! Before the attack! He was here! He brings our extinction with him!"

Jim just glared. Nihlus had been with them until the attack, and this guy was obviously batshit insane.

Warren shook her head. "I'm sorry. He's…"

"It's all right." Jim took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. "Where's the beacon?"

"We moved it to the spaceport this morning. Please, it's important that you recover it! It's an enormous data module—the greatest discovery of our lifetime."

"That's the plan. We'll have someone come pick you up, but for now…"

"I understand. Good luck, Commander."

"Luck won't save you," Manuel hissed. "It's over. All over."

Jim pressed his lips together and turned away as Warren tried to convince Manuel to lie down. "Uhura, you can get us to the spaceport, right?"

"Absolutely."

—

Nihlus crouched behind the crates at the spaceport at the sight of movement, peering out from behind them and lifting his gun. At the sight of another Turian, however this one a light brownish-grey, he lowered the weapon and stood.

"Nero!" he called, voice surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Nero lifted a hand in greeting. "The Council thought you might need help with this. Two Spectres in this kind of situation is definitely better than one."

Nihlus nodded, walking out into the open and beginning to pace. "The Geth. I wasn't expecting them here. This is much worse than I thought it would be."

"Don't worry," Nero said, eyeing Nihlus as the darker Turian turned away, looking out over the destruction. He lifted his gun and pointed it at the back of Nihlus's head. "I've got everything under control."

—

Jim jerked his head up as a shot rang out. It wasn't the Geth fire he had heard earlier; this was some other kind of gun.

"Everything all right, Commander?" Uhura turned away from the farmers the team had just found in another locked residence, the second group who had lived to tell their story. The survivors told the same story Jim had been expecting—an attack completely out of nowhere, killing nearly everyone. A painfully loud and piercing signal at some point—a jamming signal, best as they could figure—but while that was new information, Jim didn't see how it was particularly useful at the moment. Jim had just told them to get back inside and wait to be rescued.

"Yeah, I just—"

A horrific sound rent the air.  It was the noise of a machine, yes, but it had -malice- behind it, a long, low, metallic sound that blared around them. The three of them looked up, stumbling back in shock, as the same monstrosity from the transmission lifted into the air. Now, with a clear view, the resemblance to a hand was much more superficial. There were five appendages attached to the bottom, but they dangled more like tentacles than fingers, and it was much taller than he had initially thought—the "hand" had only been the bottom part, and it no longer resembled anything like it. It looked like some nightmarish, enormous insect.

"It's a ship," came Uhura's voice, quiet with disbelief as it lifted off, disappearing into the sky.

Jim just shook his head and continued on, the spaceport in sight. Nihlus should be somewhere around—

A dark, crumpled form was lying on one of the docks. Jim recognized the red and black armor immediately.

                                                                                              "Nihlus." Mitchell was hoarse with disbelief. "But how—"

"Movement, over there! Behind the crates!" Uhura's voice rang out, and the three of them raised their guns.

"Hey, no, I'm human!" The man popped up, hands raised, a panicked expression on his face.

Jim lowered his gun, sighing in irritation. "You almost got yourself killed, doing that."

"S-sorry," the man stammered, sweat beading his bald forehead. "I was just… hiding. From those things." He took a deep breath. "I'm—my name's Powell. I'm just a dockworker."

"Did you see what happened? With Nihlus?"

"The Turian? Yeah." The man nodded nervously. "There was another Turian. Was waiting for him—called him Nero? Said he was a Spectre."

Uhura frowned. "There aren't any other Turians here."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. But they seemed to know each other. Acted like they were friends. At least, until the Nero one shot him in the back of the head!"

Jim glanced over at Mitchell. There had definitely only been one Turian on the Enterprise.

"Where did he go? Where's the beacon?"

Powell pointed. "There's another platform over there. I figured the Nero guy was heading there—he hopped on the cargo train after he killed your friend."

Jim nodded absently, turning in that direction.

"I—I can't stay here. I need to go."

"There are some farmers in that house over there." Mitchell pointed. "They're waiting for pickup. Hurry."

Powell nodded and hurried off in the opposite direction.

—

Nero turned to look across the burning remains of the colony. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned to the Geth soldier, an eerie, almost Quarianoid appearance in chrome white.

"Set the charges. Destroy the colony and all of the evidence we've left."

The Geth nodded, and Nero turned, walking towards the beacon. He looked up at the sleek design, nearly as tall as the Geth's spikes, and stepped in front of it.

He felt the energy contained within it seize him, and he smirked as it lifted him into the air, images flooding into his mind.

—

Jim was unsurprised to find Geth waiting for them as they headed to the tram, or when they stepped off of it. He wasn't expecting the large contraption, nearly as long as he was tall, and twice around his size.

"They're explosives!" Mitchell snapped. "A couple of these is enough to take out the entire colony. Move, now." He shoved Jim aside, popping open the panel and pulling up the disarm interface.

Jim opened his mouth to ask a question when he heard shots from around the railings. Ducking down behind them, he peered up to see that there were several Geth hurrying in their direction. He pointed, and Uhura nodded, ducking behind the railing as well.  The two of them fired as Mitchell continued to hack the bomb.

"What is that?" Jim's eyes widened in alarm as another Geth rounded the corner. Instead of the models they had been fighting before, roughly the size of a tall human, these were enormous, heavily armored, and advancing at a fast pace.

And after a few moments, there were five of them.

"I have no idea," Uhura breathed.

The two of them began to fire, managing to destroy one and cripple the other, but the shots had given away their position and they were advancing quickly.

"Any more tricks up your sleeve, Commander?" Uhura asked, providing cover fire for Mitchell as he dove towards the next bomb, several feet away, and began to disable it.

"Don't ask him that—"

"Of course," Jim interrupted with a grin, clenching his fist. The hand began to glow with blue light that was similar to that of the mass relays as he concentrated on gathering the energy.

"You're a biotic." Though Uhura sounded surprised, it wasn't a question.

Jim didn't answer, either. He waited a moment, calculating that the Geth's alignment would be perfect in just a moment, before standing and making a throwing motion.

The ball of dark energy catapulted through the air, not only slamming into a Geth, but sending it crashing into the one behind it with incredible force. The sound of metal on metal rent through the air, and though one of the Geth tried to get up, after a moment, they collapsed together in a twisted mess.

Uhura's assault rifle fire made short work of the fifth and final Geth, and she turned to Jim and nodded.

"Good work, Commander."

"Don't encourage him," Mitchell cut in, hurrying over. "Otherwise he'll start charging in and detonating his shields, and you don't want to have to provide cover fire for that mess while they recharge."

"So glad for your contributions, Gary," Jim shot back, trying not to grin. "You take care of the bombs?"

"That one." Mitchell glanced at a device on his wrist. "Scanner's picking up two more, and we only have a few minutes. Cover me?"

The three of them worked in near-unison as Jim and Uhura escorted Mitchell to the third bomb. Jim couldn't help noticing how impressive he found his new squadmate, who had adapted seamlessly and was providing some of the best support Jim had ever gotten. There was a reason, he supposed, why she had survived when the rest of the marines on Eden Prime had not.

The fourth bomb was especially heavily protected by the Geth, and it took heavy firepower from the three of them, as well as a few biotic tricks, not just from Jim, but from Mitchell as well. Though less inclined to show off, his biotics were significantly more powerful than Jim's.

"There it is!"

For the moment, Jim thought that Uhura had meant the bomb, as it was tucked into a corner on a platform overlooking the colony. But as his eyes flitted over the platform, he saw that there was more than that.

"The beacon," he breathed with relief. They had found it.

"Don't sound so confident yet," Mitchell said, jogging past Jim before kneeling at the last bomb. "Keep an eye out for Geth instead."

Mitchell was right, of course, but they only had to pick off a couple more Geth and some of the once-human creatures that Jim had started to think of as "husks."

It was better than "zombies," anyway.

After a few moments, Mitchell stood, brushing off his hands. "That's the last of them."

Jim felt the tension in his shoulders ease. "Okay. Good." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Good job, guys." He lifted his hand to his ear, activating his communicator. "Enterprise? The beacon is secure, but we need immediate evac."

"This is amazing," he heard Mitchell say, tilting his head to get a better look. It was an elegant piece of work, a tall, thin structure made out of some kind of metal, bright blue grooves glowing and a smoky green aura surrounding it. "Actual working Prothean tech."

Uhura stepped towards it. "I know. I've actually studied the Protheans—this is unbelievable, to see something like this in the flesh." She looked it up and down slowly. "It wasn't doing this when they dug it up, though." She stepped forward. "Something must have activated it."

At the second step, Uhura suddenly jerked forward towards the beacon with a choked gasp, eyes going wide as she tried and failed to pull away. Jim didn't hesitate: he lunged in, grabbing her around the waist and yanking her away, tossing her to the ground and intending to follow.

But he didn't.

He could feel himself double over, muscles convulsing, but he couldn't see anything. He vaguely heard Mitchell saying, "Don't touch him! It's too dangerous!", but as Jim was yanked into the air, suspended by some unknown force, all other thoughts fled his mind.

A series of images flashed across his closed eyelids, submerging him in a world that blocked out all of his surroundings. Marching—shooting? Synthetics? Screaming red patterns of geometry that meant nothing, inhuman shrieks—or perhaps metal grating—gears spinning, a mouth full of fangs—

The last thing he saw was a bright green explosion that left him in darkness

—

Jim pulled his eyelids open slightly, groaning at the lights of the infirmary.

"Doctor McCoy? He's awake!"

Uhura? What was her voice doing on the Enterprise? Not that he had any complaints, but…

He groaned again as he sat up, and he felt a steadying hand on his shoulder. He glanced over and up to see McCoy's—Bones's—hazel eyes, warm with concern. He looked very different when he wasn't eighty percent annoyed.

It was a good look for him.

"Glad t'see you're up, Commander. How are you feelin'?"

Jim rubbed his eyes with his palms. "Kind of like shit. How long have I been out?"

"Fifteen hours or so." Bones slid his hands under Jim's jaw, feeling there for a pulse, and nodded. "Somethin' with the beacon, from what I understand."

"I'm sorry," Uhura broke in quietly. "I think I triggered a security field when I got too close to it."

Jim just swallowed and shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "Not your fault. There isn't exactly a precedent for these kinds of things."

"Hey now, we don't even know if that's what set it off," Bones interrupted, tilting Jim's head up and picking up a small flashlight. "Open your eyes."

Jim obliged, glancing up at his face as the doctor shone the light in one eye, then the other. He had nice hands, Jim reflected. Not something you'd expect from a guy like that, but maybe something you'd expect from a doctor.

"We're not going to be able to find out, though." Uhura's voice was level, but Jim could still detect a hint of guilt in it. "The beacon exploded. Mitchell and I had to carry you back."

Jim took a deep breath. "Thanks. Any lasting damage?"

"Not findin' anything so far. Not physically. But got some weird readings on the brain activity. And your REM—well, seemed like you were havin' some intense dreams there."

Jim bit his lip. "I—a dream? Maybe. It was—" He tried to recall what he had seen. It wasn't so much images as impressions. "Death, and destruction." And not the usual kind, either.

"Mmm." Bones frowned and continued to take readings of his vitals, or something. Jim didn't pay too much attention.

Uhura took a few steps closer. "I'm glad you're all right, Commander. The crew has been worried sick, especially after what happened to Jenkins."

Jim couldn't help but flinch at that. "Yeah."

She nodded, the two of them quiet for a moment, before she spoke up, tone professional. "Captain Pike asked me to join the crew. I thought you might want to know, as you're the XO."

Jim nodded. "Glad to hear it. No complaints here, not after how well you did."

Uhura's lips curved up slightly.

"You all right, though? I know it was rough."

"I'll be all right." She took a deep breath. "It isn't the first time I've seen people die, but… my entire unit. It… will take a while."

Jim reached out to clasp the side of her shoulder. "You'll do great."

She snorted, smile growing a bit. "I certainly intend to."

—

With enough subtle glares from the doctor, Uhura had left Jim to his medical exam—and without his conversation partner. No matter, he could always improvise.

"So, Bones. You hate space, right? How'd you end up on a Starfleet ship?"

The doctor did a double take. "You talkin' to me?"

"Yeah."

"What the hell is a bones?"

"You." Jim lowered his voice, imitating the doctor's Southern drawl. "'My old bones can't handle that.' Yeah, okay. You're in your thirties at most."

"I don't think so, kid."

"You never answered my question." Jim's grin hadn't faded.

Bones sighed. "Long story. Short version, well, used to practice on Earth, but the ex-wife got everything in the divorce. Figured it was a good place to start fresh."

"And, what, it's grown on you?"

He snorted. "Wouldn't say that. Ain't as awful as I thought it would be, though. And all you thickheaded marines need someone with an ounce of sense up here with you."

"So that's why you haven't left then. You care too much."

"Don't make me get out the syringes. Commander."

"Don't worry." Jim settled back and lifted his arm at Bones's indication, letting the doctor take his blood pressure. "You're secret's safe with me."

He couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction when he managed to pull that impressive eyeroll, eyebrow raise included, out of the man. "Ain't you a sweetheart." Copious amounts of dripping sarcasm, too.

Jim yawned. "So you know any of the crew? Captain Pike? Mitchell?

Leonard shrugged. "Pike, I've worked with. He's a good man. Anyone will tell you that." He shot Jim a look. "But I suspect you already know that."

"You caught me. Spying for him. Guess you get that promotion."

Bones just shook his head. "And as for the lieutenant, not that well. Mostly dealt with his biotic implants."

Jim nodded slowly. "He has the L2s, right?"

"Yeah. Make him more powerful, in spikes, but they ain't as stable as the L3s. The ones you have." Bones nodded at Jim. "Sometimes there are complications. He gets migraines, and I help him out."

"Nice of you."

"I'm a doctor, dammit, of course I do."

"Yeah," Jim replied with a grin, "but, you know, you're awfully defensive."

Jim was fairly certain Bones was going for a blood test when Pike walked in.

"Doctor McCoy. How is the commander?"

Bones glanced longingly over at the syringes, but then turned back to Pike. "Checks out, Captain. I'd like to run full tests, but—"

"We don't have time for that. I'm sure you understand."

Bones sighed, but nodded.

"I'd like to speak with the commander alone, if you don't mind."

"Yes, sir." He glanced back at Jim. "I'll be back if y'need anything, commander."

Jim just grinned, heedless of the threat. "Call me Jim!" he called after him as the doors slid shut. He turned back to Pike, only to see that the captain's eyebrows were raised. "What?"

"I guess you've never been one for protocol," Pike said dryly.

"It's part of why I got picked for the Spectre program, yeah?" After realizing what he had said, however, Jim winced. "Spectres. Yeah."

"'Yeah' is right, Jim. This isn't good. Nihlus is dead, the beacon is destroyed, and—you're sure they were Geth?"

Jim nodded.

"The Council isn't going to be happy about this at all."

"Hey, they can be 'not happy' at someone else. I did my job. The mess started long before we got there—and we didn't even get any intel about the Geth?"

"They haven't been seen in centuries. I'm not blaming you." Pike took a deep breath. "Nero. The other Spectre."

"The one who killed Nihlus."

"He's the one. I—we've met."

Jim frowned at Pike—the man had never mentioned this. But Pike saw that he was about to ask about it, and continued on.

"He hates humans. Thinks we're taking over the galaxy, and growing too quickly. I didn't think he'd do something about it, though. Not like this."

"You mean like allying with the Geth and destroying thousands of innocent people?"

"Exactly like that."

Jim paused, then shook his head. "I don't think it was that, though. He was after the beacon."

"I know." Jim's eyebrows rose in surprise. "But it wasn't a coincidence that he slaughtered almost an entire human colony to get it."

Jim sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes again. "Look, I—don't think I'm crazy, but right before I passed out, I had a vision."

When he lowered his hands, he expected Pike to be staring at him condescendingly, but the man's gaze was steady and focused on Jim's face. "What kind of vision?"

"I'm not entirely sure." Jim was already regretting mentioning it. "Synthetics. I know that much. I think they were Geth. They were slaughtering us."

The crease between Pike's eyebrows deepened. "We'll tell the council."

Definitely regretting it. "Report what, my bad dream? Sir, we'd have a lot more than that to report, and somehow I don't think they'd care."

"Jim, whatever was in that beacon, Nero has it. It could be dangerous—a weapon, technology, who knows. But I know Nero, and whatever he has planned for it is not good for us. He has that and an army of Geth, and the only way to take him out is to have the Council realize that. We need them on our side."

Jim closed his eyes briefly. "So we give them proof that he's gone rogue, and they'll revoke his Spectre status."

"That's the idea. So play nice, Jim."

Jim sighed, but the affection in Pike's voice was obvious, if subtle. "I'll try."

Both men shot each other a small smile, amusement badly hidden under layers of pseudo-professionalism.

Despite it's necessity for the mission, it was plain to anyone who saw him that Spock found the whole thing completely illogical. It didn't help that Jim found it adorable as hell and couldn't look at his first officer without grinning like a madman. 

"Captain, is it absolutely necessary that I accompany the away team on this mission?" he asked, not for the first time.

"C'mon, Spock! It'll be fun! Plus, do you really trust anyone else to go down to the planet with me?"

Spock warily eyed the security personnel assembled in the transporter room. "Very well."

They beamed down right into the chaos and seemed to go unnoticed. This was one of the biggest festivals in the quadrant, so it wasn't all that surprising. Aside from those who were appraising and admiring their outfits, no one gave them a second glance. 

Their mission was to locate the Orion slave traders that Starfleet Intelligence had assured them were hidden at the festival. With all of the elaborate costumes, the likelihood of their being able to locate them was only 8.352%. 

Spock should really try to stop using statistical likelihood where James Kirk was involved. They had found and nullified the threat within their first 2.3 hours on planet. 

"C'mon Spock, it'll be fun!" Jim whined, though he would not admit to it. The Captain desired to remain at the festival and have the rest of the day as shore leave. 

"I would much rather beam back aboard the Enterprise and remove this costume," Spock replied. 

"Yeah, but...with the costume on no one knows who we are, or that you're Vulcan," he smirked, moving close into Spock's personal space before holding him close and tangling their fingers together.

"Jim-!"

"What?" he faked surprise as he kissed along Spock's jaw, his fake facial hair making the Vulcan itch. 

"Why do you insist on wearing those synthetic fibers when you are perfectly capable of growing your own facial hair?" Spock inquired, deciding that it was best to distract his Captain since outright refusal seemed to be ineffective. 

"Because," Jim replied, leaning his forehead on Spock's, "Tony Stark has dark hair." When Jim proceeded to kiss him, he found himself giving in to his boyfriend's wishes. 

"Wow, I ship it," he heard someone say.

"Ship it?" Spock asked, pulling away confused. 

"Oh, that's old Earth slang. It means that they like our characters together...romantically," he explained. 

"I see." 

Jim's responding look communicated that he knew Spock did not. 

"Your character is 'Tony Stark'. What is my character?"

"You mean you don't know? Why didn't you ask earlier?" Jim seemed quite surprised. 

"At the time it did not seem to be of much importance." 

"Oh, well, you're Loki. The comic book villain, not the Norse god." 

"A villain?" 

"Yeah...you know, maybe we should go back to the ship. Let's go back to the ship."