Condition: Red Alert.

Tiberius had taken a seat in the captain’s chair after his XO had wisely rebuked him for standing in the center during a situation that might turn explosive at any moment.

“You’re too right. Safety first.” He’d said after her admonishment.

Now he was settled in and ready for the emergency harnesses to deploy should the ship be rocked violently. Crew safety had been a growing concern in the fleet after a study concluded several injuries resulted from simply being hurled about the deck or having a console or panel explode in one’s face. It was a welcome trend, to be sure.

But sometimes he just wanted to be right there. The eye of the storm. He figured he got that from his old man. The need to be in the thick of it. His father had been a stick jockey flying fighters until they’d promoted him onto a bridge. Tib’s route was a little more direct. But no less effective.

A sensor alert chimed from Vossk’s console and he glanced back at Tib. “The infected vessel is emitting some kind of gas. It appears to be some kind of plasma leak.”

“How did this start?”

“Unknown. It’s as though the ship inflicted a wound on itself.”

Tib leaned back, unable to suppress the wry smirk. His XO noticed the look and leaned over to whisper to him.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I think Alpha is trying to be bait the Klingon’s out. It’s showing them a weakness. Giving them what they want.”

“Is that wise?”

Tib shook his head, unsure. “Who’s to say? We’re in uncharted territory here. But let’s play along. Conn. Edge us closer to Alpha, and see about tuning our phaser to a low yield. Make it look like we’re trying to close the wound.”

“But?”

Tib grinned. They were catching on. “But I want you to make a show of it. Tune it too low. Make it look like we’re having a hard time finding the right setting to do job.”

“Sir, if we tune down our phasers too much, that’ll only leave us with torpedos until we can reprime the emitters at the correct output. We’d be tickling them.”

Tib nodded. He had a hunch Alpha was ready for their opponents. “I have faith in our friend out there.”

“This from the man who claims he’s not a gambler.”

“There’s a difference. You’ll figure it out, eventually. Till then? Just follow my lead.” He gave his XO a confident smile.

The Rubidoux had positioned itself to aft of Alpha to administer a fake surgery with its toned down phaser array. An instant later, the calm was shattered by the de-cloaking Klingon vessel as a torrent of green disruptor rounds crashed into Alpha’s hull. The wound knit itself shut alarmingly quirk. Like a bulkhead rolling shut. Less and less of the origin vessel was discernable. It seemed to Tib more like an evolution. As the organic components broke down the origin alloys of the ship and turned the vessel into a living body. His exobiological knowledge was pretty basic, though.

“Mr. Vossk, please continue running scans on our friend during this exchange. Tactical, recalibrate my guns please. Conn, evasive maneuvers.”

“They are phasers, captain. Not guns.”

“Figure of speech, lieutenant. Figure of speech.”

The Rubidoux lurched hard under the sustained volley of fire from the klingon vessel before the ship re-cloaked. Sparks vented from the ceiling panels. The shield held out for now. In response, all seated crew’s emergency safety harnesses deployed, telescoping out and retaining them in their chairs. No more risk of traumatic head and spinal injuries.

The Rubi limped about as Alpha advanced. A twin set of beams fired out of both flanks into the void before a small explosion shimmered the cloaked Klingon vessel back into view. In response a salvo of torpedos hurled out of the raider ships aft launcher.

“Helm, put us between those warheads. Now!”

The Rubidoux repositioned itself with weakened shields, shouldering the brunt of the detonations. Damage Control reports poured into the XO’s console while the Captain, Tactical, and Conn worked to keep the situation in control. In response, Alpha drifted beneath the Rubidoux, and hurled a volley of its own weapons back at the enemy ship, which now could not cloak thanks to Alpha’s attack.

Pressed into continuing the assault, the Klingon raider banked and committed to the attack. Something Alpha appeared to expect. As the raider aimed at the Rubidoux, Alpha hurled a full volley of weapons fire into the stern of the klingon ship. Hull panels peeled loose under muffled explosions as a small cloud of debris formed around them.

The Rubidoux could not recalibrate her phasers fast enough to bring them to bear, leaving the bulk of the offensive lifting to Alpha. An untested and unknown alien entity. With the Klingon threat pacified, that meant there wasn’t any rush to reach the relative safety and aid of the USS Hopkins, so Tib held their position. It would be foolish to let the Klingon’s lick their wounds and run away.

Once they could, he had the ship lock the Klingon vessel in a tractor beam. He was content to leave them on their ship. The amount of damage dealt would mean they weren’t going anywhere soon and there was no need to risk lives in a boarding action so soon. He wanted his people focused on patching up the ship. Just in case something else happened or came up. Always have a plan.

Eventually the Hopkins arrived and with it, the threat of immediate violence if their orders weren’t followed precisely. A fact the Klingons respected, even if it was through grit teeth. There was a brief exchange of supplies, and this gave Tib the opportunity to assess the crew’s mental health. They were roughed up, but they were otherwise fine.

Everyone had done their job. And they did their jobs well. He couldn’t be more proud. The true mark of leadership wasn’t how many ships you defeated. Or how many treaties you signed. Or even how many new worlds or species you discovered. No, that was all just small stuff compared to the one thing that mattered the most.

Your crew. And he was proud to say that his crew was fine. Had the situation gone any other way that statement might not have proven itself out as true. Instead, he could see everyone picking themselves up with a little more pride. They’d saved a life today. Not just any life, but an undocumented and wildly different life from what they knew and commonly accepted as life.

Tib retired to his ready room and sat down with an exhausted sigh at his desk. This was going to be a lengthy report. He just began to type the beginning of the report, preferring to hand jam his words instead of audibly recording a journal for transcription when the door chime jingled.

“Come in.”

It was his Conn officer, Lt. Thorne. “Sir? It’s Alpha. It’s requesting to speak with you.”

“Ah, well, put it through.” He said, gesturing to his desktop terminal.

Thorne shook her head, “Sorry sir, it specifically requested you be present aboard… it.”

Tib grinned. It was about time things got interesting. “Fascinating. Tell Alpha I’d love to. I’ll be over in 15 minutes.”

“Aye sir.”

As he stood up and moved to leave the bridge his XO was falling in step with him.

“Sir, forgive my lack of decorum with my candor, but just what the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I’m about to have an experience few others can claim.”

“Or you’re walking into a trap.”

He nodded. “That is true. This could all be an elaborate ruse. It’s happened far too often before.”

“So you’re not going to go?” She asked, pausing in front of the turbo lift door.

Tib tapped the summon key. “Oh, I’m absolutely going. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

Commander Venrith’s tattoo’d brow knit. “I’m going to file a complaint about your conduct.” She said standing a bit taller.

“Okay, good, but what else? What’s the important part?”

Confusion etched across Sariel’s features. “Sir?”

Tib bit back an amused chuckle. “You said it’s dangerous, which I agree with. But how do you mitigate that risk?”

“That depends on the situation,” she began.

“Okay, good. Go on.” Tib said, gesturing for her to continue.

“Well, under normal circumstances, I’d request you to take a security escort with you.”

“Which you can’t advise right now on account of the fact that the ship turned into a living animal on account of some kind of strange foreign material outbreak.”

“Right…” Sariel said. “Since the risk is bio contaminant in nature and not a threat of numbers, I’d advise either taking a spacesuit or a hazmat suit. Something environmentally sealed. Just to be sure.”

Tib smiled and nodded. “Then I shall take your advice.”

“O-okay,” Sariel said with a nod, confused at the flow of the conversation. She clearly expected him to take a more adversarial tone, rather than that of a mentor.

‘The bridge is yours, commander. I don’t think this will be long, but all the same? Keep a transporter lock on me the whole time, yeah?”

His trip to the supply room on deck 4 was brief enough, and he was able to sign out a vac suit and get it on pretty quickly. Then he made his way to the primary transport room on the deck. The petty officer at the controls gave him a nod.

“Give the word and we’ll have you back in a flash, sir.”

“I may hold you to that,” Tib said with a grin. He wasn’t afraid Alpha would do anything dangerous, but there was always the chance that there would be some uncontrollable element. Some factor that went beyond anyone’s knowledge or skill. In matters like those, it didn’t matter how many precautions or plans you had. It just boiled down to luck and timing. But planning helped give you more of those. Or at least more wiggle room, he liked to think.

“Energize.”

His vision washed out in white as the transporter began the dematerialization process. An instant later, he was blinking out the blindness inside Alpha. The first of its kind. The interior differed vastly from what he expected of Klingon architecture. No more alloys. Everything was hardened organic compounds and smooth rounded corners. There was a deep, thrumming resonance that pulsed throughout the ship like an energy-based heartbeat.

As he cautiously strode out, part of him wondered if it was the warp core, adapted into some kind of biological equivalents. If that were true, then Alpha would need to consume deuterium, dilythium crystals, and other materials to sustain itself. In a strange way, Alpha had become the peak evolution of technology in a subverted fashion from what the borg sought.

He hoped his vac suit life recorder was taking as many readings as possible and getting a steady recording for the science folks to chew on. He knew they loved their data. And graphs. And tables. He glazed over at the thought and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

“Hello?”

No response as yet.

“This is Captain Tiberius Rain. You’d requested my presence?” I hope not to kill or consume me? He thought in a half joke.

“Captain Rain. Thank you for coming. My… awakening has been somewhat jarring. I remember what I was. Vaguely.” Alpha said. It wasn’t speaking to him through internal coms though, it was broadcasting its voice directly to his suit’s speakers.

“How are we speaking?” Tib asked, unable to curb his curiosity.

“I’ve scanned your life support suit and configured my broadcast spectra to match its output. In effect, I ‘hacked’ your suit speakers.”

“I see. Creative and skilled.”

“Thank you for the compliments.”

“It’s my pleasure Alpha. Thanks for the invite. So what was it you wanted to discuss in private?”

“My future.”