Fic: We got a right to pick a little fight (Bonanza!) (STXI, Gen, PG, 1/2)
Title: We got a right to pick a little fight (Bonanza!)
Artist: lymanalpha
Author: sail_aweigh
Rating (both art/fic): PG
Genre/Pairing: Gen, background Spock/Uhura, Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 13,400
Warnings: Dinosaurs being frat boys with foul mouths. Really. And you might get an eye poked out.
Summary: Larry just wants to impress a girl. Instead, he saves the world?
Disclaimer: Writing this for fun, not for profit.
Author notes: Written for trekreversebang 2012 edition. Thank you to my lovely beta, ken_ichijouji
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~NOT EXACTLY A MIDSUMMER'S NIGHT DREAM~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larry woke up with his mouth tasting like a bilgesnipe had died in it. He ran his tongue around his teeth feeling the scum there and doing his best to scrape it off. His best wasn't very good. Huffing out a breath even he could smell, Larry wrinkled his nose at the sour odor. He buried his face in the earthy loam beneath him for a few seconds, sniffing the leaves and dirt. It didn't change the taste in his mouth, but the scent sure was better.
It smelled so good, just like his regular nest, that Larry thought he'd lie there a little longer. Maybe take a nap, dream about sneaking out to the mating grounds with Lucy. But the longer he stayed on the forest floor, the longer it would take him to get back to his clanmates and their encampment. Groaning, Larry levered himself to his feet.
He took his time, letting his weight settle in place before attempting anything complicated: like walking. A weave here and a bobble there got him from the clump of bushes he'd woken up in to the edge of the nearby stream. The sun glinting off the water made him squint and his eyes sting. Ugh, hangovers sucked. See if he let Moe talk him into cruising the jango patch again looking for fermented fruit. Hell, he didn't even make it back to their nest last night before passing out. And it's not like Moe had even tried to cover him up to hide him from predators! Bastard.
At the water's edge, Larry looked around for a lolonut shell. He knew there had to be some around; this was a frequent watering hole for his clan. It took a few minutes of poking at the trunks of a couple saplings before he found one tied off with a long vine. He pulled it up, hand over hand and poured the cool liquid into his mouth. Relief!
Four shells full of water later, Larry was starting to feel a little more lively. He straightened up a bit, lifting his head to take a more careful look around him. Scanning from side to side, he realized the bushes he'd woken up in were just at the edge of the savannah. Shit, he was way too close to being out in the open than he liked right now. It was one thing when he had Moe and Curly by his side; they had their moves down as a hunting unit. Unaccompanied, he was a target for larger, or sneakier, predators. He was going straight back to the encampment and giving Moe a piece of his mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~YES THIS IS A STAR TREK STORY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Captain, I'm receiving a garbled distress call from the colony on Cestus III," Nyota Uhura announced. She turned away from her communications console to face the captain's chair, remaining calm as the captain swung towards her station.
"Did they state the nature of their problem, Lieutenant?" asked Kirk. He maintained a relaxed position in the chair, but Uhura could see that his leg was starting to bounce a little. She predicted another rendezvous with trouble in his future. Kirk had been antsy for a while now, waiting while Spock completed a survey of the inner two planets for minerals that couldn't be found on Cestus III. The colony had a shortage of bauxite, stifling their ability to produce the aluminum used for so many things: buildings, transport vehicles, and packaging, to name a few.
Uhura concentrated on the transmission, teasing more content from the signal. Her eyebrows shot up. "It sounds like they're being overrun by lizards, captain."
"They need an exterminator?" asked Kirk. He shook his head in disbelief, stifling an undignified snort.
Turning away from the helm, Chekov glanced over at Kirk as he beamed his smile around the bridge, grinning at his own wit. "Perhaps it is something like tribbles? No one wants that kind of trouble," he said with a decisive nod. His quip got a few snickers from some of the other crewmen on the bridge, even Uhura. When Spock directed his impassive gaze at him, Chekov muttered under his breath before turning back to his console, "Just joking."
Kirk looked over to where Spock was standing facing him, having straightened up from his science console to listen to the conversation. "What do you think, Spock? Can we provide them with a better mousetrap? It doesn't seem like something our phaser banks can take care of without damaging the settlement."
"Captain, I suggest we scan the colony first to verify the problem," said Spock. Uhura nodded her head in approval. That was Kirk; always looking for a way to play with his "toys" as he liked to call them. She'd overheard him referring to them as "better rayguns than anything from Buck Rogers in the 21st century." As if. More like--better than Battlestar Galactica, if anything. Kirk's tastes were so juvenile.
"You're right, as usual," Kirk admitted. "We don't need a hammer to swat a fly. What do our records say about the fauna of Cestus III?" Kirk swung his chair from side-to-side, his excitement visibly growing.
Spock turned back to his console and pulled up the file for Cestus III. He scanned the information briefly, his eyes stopping only once to double-check the information. One eyebrow rose before he swivelled to face Kirk to report on his findings.
"The initial survey of the planet indicated that most of the smaller life forms on the planet are mammalian and mostly harmless. There are, however, pockets of saurids still residing in some of the forests."
"Dinosaurs?" Kirk interjected. "What kind of dinosaurs?"
Spock glanced at the readout once more. "A smaller predator. They keep themselves isolated, not leaving their localized forested areas for the savannah. The survey team was never able to observe them as they appeared to be quite averse to contact with anything on two legs. The few they managed to survey from blinds set up at the edge of the forest always seemed to know exactly where they were and would turn away, avoiding any type of confrontation, either hostile or friendly. The survey team ultimately declared the planet safe for colonization."
Kirk rubbed his chin in thought. "Is it possible their food source is dwindling and they've become desperate enough to prey on the colonists?"
"Negative, captain." Spock spoke with his usual calm composure. "According to the survey team, there was abundant smaller fauna in the forest. Unless there has been a major climactic event unreported by the colony that may have affected the mammalian population of the forests, we have no reason to believe they have changed their habits out of necessity."
"And dinosaurs aren't lizards, either," mused Jim. He looked over to Uhura. "Have you been able to glean more information from the distress call?"
Uhura paused before answering. "The lizards are demanding surrender."
"What the f....? Are you sure, Lieutenant?" Kirk frowned at her.
With a flick of her ponytail, Uhura lifted her head until she was looking down her nose at Kirk in disdain. Not an easy thing to do from a seated position; but Uhura had perfected it around Kirk. "I would not have reported it, if it wasn't exactly what they said."
Kirk massaged his temples with one hand and sighed. "My apologies, Lieutenant. We all know about your exceptional aural sensitivity." He gave her his most charming smile, which bounced off the aura of disapproval that Uhura radiated at him. "Keep me posted as you decipher more of their transmission." Giving her a nod with a more subdued line to his mouth, she returned the nod as he swung back toward the helm.
"Chekov, set course to Cestus III. Sulu, warp factor 4. Let's see what kind of lizard demands surrender; it better not look like a gecko."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~DID YOU SAY YOU WANTED MORE DINOSAURS?~~~~~~~~~~
"C'mon, Larry. It will be fun, you said. It's not fun when I wake up on the edge of the plain of the treacherous elders with no one to stand guard over me." Larry curled his hand into a fist and brought it down on Moe's head another time, punctuating the physical blow with an ear-splitting roar.
Curly scoffed at that. "Quit being a big crybaby. No one has seen an elder for nearly eight generations. They've abandoned the planet. Good riddance to them."
Larry spun to face Curly and he hissed at him. "It doesn't matter; the genocide will never be forgotten. Our numbers are but a tenth of what they were. We don't need to tempt fate."
"Besides, it was fun," Moe said, from where he was still cowering behind raised forearms. "You serenaded Lucy with Moon River and then tried to convince her to go with you to the stinky hot springs. She told you to go play your bongos by yourself." The statement was accompanied by a series of whistling snorts. Larry turned his head baring his teeth at Moe, ready to lash out at him.
Curly nodded his head in agreement. "That's right, boss. You insisted you could go it alone. So did Lucy. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk."
Larry's head whipped back around and he jabbed two digits at Curly's eyes, but found them blocked by a swift moving appendage. Before Curly had a chance to celebrate his victory over Larry, he felt his teeth clacking together painfully like two bamzoo wands being beaten together during a sparring match.
"You guys are not funny. Now Lucy's never going to look at me, or sneak off to the mating grounds with me." Larry's head drooped on his neck, while his forearms rose up to cover his head as if trying to hide from his failure.
Moe rolled his eyes. "Lucy is never going to look at you, dummy; she's only got eyes for Ricky and you know it."
"What's he got that I haven't got?" said Larry, his head popping back up. "I'm fast, I have a well-padded nest, I'm one of the best hunters in the clan. Why wouldn't Lucy want me over Ricky?" He pounded his forearms against his breast.
"Because Ricky's got real bongos, not just metaphorical, and even those are bigger than yours anyway?" High-pitched wheezes came from both Moe and Curly,as they congratulated each other by slapping palms in a high-five. Eyes squeezed shut, they were laughing so hard, they were completely unprepared when Larry swung around fast, sweeping both of them off their feet with a resounding thud.
"You guys suck. See if I ever help either of you in your wooing." Larry slapped them both again before storming off, his stomping feet crushing the springy ground cover under him. The fact it sprang back, releasing a fragrant and pleasing scent left him completely unsatisfied and gnashing his teeth. He felt the need to destroy something.
Moving into a lope, Larry plotted as he ran through the tall green fronds and low succulent shrubs of the forest. The fair Lucy would be his. He knew where there was a nest of merulians that had just littered; it would be the perfect place to wreak some havoc. And if he brought back some of their luxuriant golden skins, maybe he could get Lucy to look at him when he handed her enough of them to make a cape, or maybe a cunning toque. With his confidence buoyed, Larry headed straight back toward the edge of the forest. She'd be even more impressed by his daring in acquiring these rare prizes. He could hardly wait.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~GECKOS NEED NOT APPLY ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Uhura was unsurprised that the captain was whistling while they waited for the rest of the landing party to congregate in the transporter room. Kirk had been visibly bubbling over with excitement at the thought of marauding dinosaurs, despite the fact that Spock kept reassuring him that it was 99.8% probable that the attacking lizards were not the insular saurids.
Kirk rubbed his hands together, pacing in front of the transporter platform and muttering under his breath. "C'mon, Bones. Get your grumpy ass up here. This is going to be a new one for the record books."
Uhura pursed her lips at the profanity, turning her back on the captain. It wasn't like she disapproved of profanity, in general; it was all a form of communication and the way profanity was used often gave insight to the defining values of a culture. But, she felt in her estimation that the captain of the fleet's flagship should be more dignified.
Nonetheless, like the captain, she couldn't help exhibiting her own nervousness, tapping one booted foot against the pristine tile of the transporter room floor. She wished she could emulate the calm serenity of Spock; her meditation practice was improving, but so much of her feelings were still not close to being under her control. Her foot stilled, though, as Spock came to stand beside her and his hand reached out casually to lay two fingers against two of hers where her hands lay clasped in the small of her back. She would have turned toward him, to acknowledge the solace he provided, but McCoy came bustling into the room just then, the habitual scowl on his face pulling his eyebrows down over the bridge of his nose until he looked almost Vulcan.
"Dammit, Jim. What do you need to be going down to the surface for? Isn't this something a security team should be handling?" McCoy tugged on the strap of his tricorder in irritation. He moved towards Kirk, leaning forward a little with his hands clasped behind his back so he could get right into Kirk's face. "This isn't a casual exploratory expedition, Jim. There will probably be violence and unknown dangers. We can't afford to lose our captain because you want to play Buck Rogers."
Buck Rogers, again, Uhura scoffed mentally. Kirk was more like Kara Thrace: rebellious, full of bluster, a little broken. Well, maybe more than a little broken. At least she could give him credit for his devotion to McCoy. Uhura gave a little shake of her head and bit her cheek to stop the laugh when Kirk slapped McCoy on the shoulder and launched his broadside to McCoy's objections.
She could feel Spock in the back of her mind, questioning what amused her so much about the relationship between the captain and the doctor. Her reply was to ask him if he'd ever read "The Taming of the Shrew" by William Shakespeare. His thoughts retreated momentarily while he contemplated the permutations. They didn't have time to finish their discussion when Kirk continued his cannonade at McCoy.
"Dinosaurs, Bones!" His smile was as nearly blinding as the sun. And, as usual, the good doctor melted under it. He stood with arms crossed, one hand in front of his mouth trying to smother a small smile, while his cheeks pinkened a little.
"Well, don't come running to me when you get eaten by one," said McCoy. His arms came down as he gave another tug on his tricorder. "We don't know what we're going to find, since that distress call turned out to be automated."
"I already told you: dinosaurs! Small ones; they'll be more afraid of us than we are of them." Kirk was practically vibrating at the thought. Uhura figured he had been one of those kids who stood in his front yard trying to tease small animals into eating out of his hand so he could pet them, but had so much nervous energy none of them would come near him.
Kirk finally clapped his hands once for attention and ordered everyone in the landing party up onto the transporter pads with a hearty, "Saddle up!"
This particular group consisted of himself, McCoy, Spock, Uhura and a two-member security team. The secondary security team of six stood off to one side, waiting for the main landing party to dematerialize on their journey down to the planet's surface before taking their turn.
Uhura knew that Spock had objected to this configuration, as he always did, before they even got to the transporter room. Regulaiton 403b, section 94i, paragraph 31 governing the composition of landing parties being inserted into unsecured territory had been cited, but Kirk had just waved Spock's objections away, asserting that he thought better and faster when he had his entire command team around him. He'd give his most innocent smile--Uhura admitted he could look almost angelic at times--and tell Spock he couldn't argue with that, now could he? Spock could, but he'd learned to quit trying after his token objection. Uhura didn't even need to be standing next to Spock to feel his resignation at Kirk's actions in the back of her mind. Her thoughts were brought back to the transporter room by Kirk's voice.
"Any time you're ready, Scotty," said Kirk. Everyone straightened up, senses alert, waiting for the transporter to whisk them down to the surface.
The last thing Uhura saw before the whine of the transporter overcame her senses was Scotty's face contorting in dismay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~WHAT, YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A COMEDY?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larry watched the merulians from behind the tall stalks of a large cluster of bamzoo. He'd done his best to remain downwind of their den while maintaining good cover. It made him nervous, though, because downwind left his back exposed to the savannah. His neck was getting a crick in it from constantly twisting to look over his shoulders for danger.
It was worth it, though. With these precious furs, he could demonstrate his resourcefulness as a provider. Ricky couldn't do that for Lucy. The most he could do was provide entertainment for the clan with his hide and bamzoo bongos. It was ridiculous that people actually gave Ricky food and nest materials to listen to his bashing and crashing.
Larry was hunkered down in a crouch, one part of his brain lost in his thoughts of Lucy, the other concentrating on just the right time to pounce. It was only slowly that the smell of smoke started to tease at his senses. He'd just turned his head for the umpteenth billion time, when something sharp poked him in his offside. With a startled shriek, he jumped straight up and nearly tipped over backwards, his feet scrabbling at the ground, before he caught his balance.
Snorting laughter coming from the side that got poked had him whirling in spot, his mouth open to display all his teeth in threat. With a bone-crunching snap, he crushed the bamzoo stick that Curly had jabbed him with.
"Your head next, you braying ass!" Curly squealed as Larry yanked on the remains of the stick, reeling him in until Larry could take a fist and pound Curly on his head. Moe, seeing the way this was playing out, for once, hung back out of reach just behind Curly.
"Ouch, boss, ouch. Quit it. I'm sorry, alright?" Curly scrubbed at his head with his tail, soothing the abused spot left by Larry's blow. "What's a braying ass, anyway?"
"Heck if I know, but it sounded good."
Larry turned back towards the merulian's den to see that they had either all scattered into the underbrush or burrowed deep into their den. Dammit. He was going to go home empty-handed tonight.
Discouraged, he turned to his cohort and glared at them until they both hung their heads in shame. "You owe me. You owe me big. I want--"
Throwing his partner under the counterweight of the lolonut mill, Moe said, " I had nothing to do with Curly's jo--stupidity, Boss. But we have something important to show you. Really. We wouldn't have come, otherwise." He pointed out toward the savannah.
The three gathered in a tight cluster, peering out from the bamzoo screen to the horizon where a dark gray haze was slowly spreading toward the forest. This was the origin of that smell that had been teasing Larry for the past half hour. He shouldn't have ignored it; fire being pushed across the savannah by the prevailing winds was a serious danger.
"What do you think started it?" Curly whispered.
"Lightning strikes can do it," said Moe. "But we haven't had a storm in weeks." His tail lashed in agitation. He looked over to Larry, watching him carefully.
Larry's head was high, his nostrils open, scenting as much as he could. "It smells unnatural. It's not just plants burning; it's something else."
"What's that?" Curly pointed to where a dark black plume was rising from one side of the dark cloud rolling across the grass.
"It looks like one of the tar pits on fire. I didn't know there were any over there," said Moe.
Larry gave him a half-hearted swat on the side of the head, he was too worried to put more effort into it. "That's because we've never been over there, numbskull."
"Do you, do you think it's the elders, Larry? Do you think they've come back. Are they trying to burn us out?" Curly hunkered down, drawing all his appendages in protectively.
Larry paced back and forth in front of his pack. No matter how often he'd held the elders up as a threat to keep the other two in line, he'd been convinced that they were long gone. The treacherous Gorn hadn't bothered to raze the forest last time; they'd just used those terrible lightning weapons that burned and seared. They'd cut the Velc done one by one and only a few had managed to escape into the bax caves and the tunnels deep into the earth.
"No, the Gorn do it face-to-face or not at all," Larry said. "Unless..."
Moe and Curly looked up at him from where they were crouched low to the ground, prepared for flight. When Larry didn't speak again in what seemed like forever, they chorused, "WHAT?"
"Unless there is someone else out there." Larry turned to Moe and Curly, his tail lifted, head stretched out long. "We need to go and warn the others; there are interlopers."
With a bellow that rang across the plain, the three Velc gathered their haunches and launched their long bodies back into the forest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~THAT'S THE LAST TIME I BOOK THROUGH PRICELINE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Uhura moved to pull her phaser as soon as she materialized on the planet's surface, but found her holster empty. A quick pat along her utility belt informed her that her communicator and universal translator were also missing. She was backing up into the standard defensive formation even before Kirk issued the command.
"Landing party, report." Kirk's voice wasn't loud, but his authority was distinct in the cadence of his speech. Everybody moved quickly to obey, Uhura noted, scanning their surroundings for immediate threat.
Once in position, each member of the landing party detailed their missing equipment. Even McCoy's tricorder had been taken. Uhura could see they were all standing on a grassy plain, open and vulnerable to attack, yet there didn't appear to be anybody else there. The grass underfoot was dry and brittle, a light breeze brought the smell of smoke with it. To the west of them was a dark green treeline that might offer some shelter from the overhead sun, but the truly worrying thing was the smokey haze they could see and smell to the east of them.
Uhura relaxed marginally, along with the others, when there appeared little or no chance of direct attack at close quarters. Kirk posted one member each of the security team on either side of the landing party to keep watch on the edge of the forest and the encroaching wall of smoke.
"Spock, any theories where we are?" Kirk asked.
Spock visually measured the distance from the forest to the smoke rolling across the plain. "I would venture we are on Cestus III, but we have been diverted some 40-50 kilometers west of the colony. I'm sorry I can't be more precise in my prediction; we don't know when the fire started or how fast it has moved under the prevailing winds. My estimation is based on our distance to the tree line."
"I was afraid you'd say something like that." Kirk rubbed the back of his neck, facing the conflagration that was undoubtedly consuming what had once been the colony. "Is it worth the risk of being caught in the fire to see if we can scavenge something of use from the colony? We have no way of letting Scotty know we're in trouble."
"Captain, we have only to wait here and when we don't check in, Commander Scott will undoubtedly beam us back up," Spock stated.
McCoy scoffed. "And if someone or something could magic our weapons and communicators away, what makes you think they haven't done the same with the Enterprise? Nor will they know where we are, since we aren't at the original beam in point."
"I was only reminding the captain of standard procedure, Dr. McCoy. It appears to be my main task as his First Officer." Spock stood resolute under McCoy's skeptical gaze. "However, I agree with the captain in this instance. The colony is our best opportunity for finding something we can use to communicate with the ship. Perhaps that distress beacon we followed."
"Well, now you're talking downright logical, Spock. Don't surprise me like that; I don't know if my old heart can take it." McCoy rocked on his heels, looking all too happy with his perceived verbal victory in Uhura's opinion. But then, she thought she might be just a tad partial and McCoy always thought he was far more clever than he was.
Once that was decided, they quickly assembled into position with the security team taking point and rear guard. They had barely started their trek across the plain, when a group of unknown beings materialized 20 meters to the north of them. The entire landing party turned towards them assuming defensive postures, as did the opposing group.
Looking them over carefully, Uhura could see they were vaguely reptilian in form, but clearly bipedal. She surmised these were the likely attackers of the colony. One creature was dressed more ornately than the others and stood to the forefront. Without any attempt at communication, the apparent leader of the "lizards" charged their group.
Kirk stepped forward to meet him but before either could come within reach, they were both frozen in place as a form in shimmering white appeared floating between the two groups.
"You are trespassing; this world is under our protection," stated the newest arrival.
"Who are you? Why have you brought us here?" Kirk asked from where he stood locked in place.
The shimmering form looked down at Kirk and the leader of the lizards. "We are the Metron. Your actions have caused the inhabitants of this planet much distress. Your aggression is barbaric. We have yet to decide if you are worthy to continue in existence."
Uhura could hear the other commander addressing the Metron in a voice full of clicks and sibilants. She wished longingly for her universal translator. To her surprise, a silver tube appeared on her utility belt. When she looked around she could see that everyone now had one. Uhura turned her attention back to the conversation between the lizard leader and the Metron.
"We claimed this planet for the Gorn more than eight generations ago. These creatures are interlopers on our land. We destroy all interlopers," insisted the Gorn leader.
Kirk glared at the Gorn. "You murdered innocent people. Our colony has been there for over one hundred years, unmolested until now and harming no one."
The Metron interrupted, "It matters not. When the two groups confronted each other, they did not stop until both groups were completely annihilated. Neither of you are currently worthy to husband this land."
"If we are unworthy, why did you not kill us where we stand?" Kirk challenged the Metron's motives. "I don't believe you think that or we'd be dead already. What do you really want?"
The Metron looked down at Kirk, impassive for many moments. Uhura thought for just a second that Kirk had actually talked his way out of their dilemma. The Gorn just kept roaring as loud as they could at the Metron, not even verbalizing any sort of objection or compromise.
"No, we disdain violence. We will give you both the opportunity to settle your differences through strength and ingenuity. You will both have the same advantages; how you use them will determine your fate. Everything you need may be found in the forest." With that proclamation, the Metron waved his hand and for the third time that day, the landing party found themselves deposited in an unknown location.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~IT'S A FINE MESS YOU'VE GOTTEN US INTO, OLLIE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larry, Moe and Curly ran flat out for the nesting grounds as if the legendary thunderbird of Poc was chasing them, leaping over some bushes and crashing through others. All the small animals that lived in the underbrush fled from them. None of the three even thought of catching some of them to take home to fill the feed pens.
"Are they following us?" Curly panted as he ran, his breath wheezing in and out loudly. Larry would have told him to cut back on his propensity for not just a fourth meal, but a fifth and sometimes a sixth meal, but he was too busy looking over his shoulder for intruders to answer immediately.
"That's a stupid question," Moe said. "Of course they're following us. We wouldn't be running away from them if they weren't." He attempted to swat at Curly with his tail, but it threw him off-balance and he ran snout first right into a darkwood tree.
Curly stopped, lowering himself to sit on his haunches while he gasped in air, his lungs pumping in and out like the bellows used to fan the communal hearth. "I can't run anymore; you guys are going to have to carry me."
Larry came to a skidding stop, his arms flailing for balance before he leaned one on the same darkwood tree that Moe and face-planted into. "I can't see or hear anyone. It doesn't mean they're not there, though. We need to keep going."
"I caaaan'tt--urk!" Curly's whine would have gone on longer but he found his mouth stuffed with leaves off the darkwood tree.
Larry got into his face and hissed at him. "You will. We all will. This isn't a joke. The Gorn will destroy us all, again. Maybe worse than last time. We have to get everyone, we need to get Lucy, into the tunnels of the bax cave before it's too late."
By the time Larry was done shaking sense into Curly, Moe had untangled himself from the trunk of the darkwood. He stood there massaging his snout with his hands and wiggling his jaw side-to-side. "You guys, can we just go? I'm tired and my snout hurts. So do me feet," he added, shifting from foot to foot. He reached around Larry and leaned forward to pull Curly to his feet. When he looked back up he froze.
"Larry, Larry. Is that them?" Moe's voice shook; he stood paralyzed, his outstretched hand still holding onto Curly's arm. Curly started shaking at the fear he could feel coming off Moe.
"What, what? Where?" Larry looked in the direction of Moe's gaze and saw six strangely shaped creatures frozen in place no more than three lolonut tree lengths from them. He looked at the silver cylinders strapped to their sides; had heard the stories of burnt and broken bodies. There was only one thing to be done.
All three Velc's mouths opened at once in a roar. "RUN!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~IT COULD HAVE BEEN BUNNIES~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"RUN!"
Uhura didn't even stop to question the order; she just started running in the opposite direction from the one she'd been standing in when the landing party materialized in a stand of trees. She'd made it about twenty yards, dodging through unfamiliar vegetation, when she realized the only ones running were her and Spock.
Looking back over her shoulder she saw the other four members of the landing party facing the other way watching three horse-sized dinosaurs galloping away from them, one of them being dragged by the other two the best they could with their short, stumpy forearms. McCoy had his hand on Kirk's shoulder, whether for support or to hold him back, Uhura had no clue. Meanwhile, Kirk just stood there and scratched the top of his head. The security team had taken up a defensive stance in front of the other officers, although there currently appeared to be no need for it. No one made an effort to pursue the dinosaurs, but why would they? They were DINOSAURS. Albeit, what appeared to be fraidy-pants dinosaurs busy running away from the much smaller humans.
She and Spock came to halt and looked at each other. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could normally put Spock out of continence; she'd only seen it once, immediately in the aftermath of the destruction of Vulcan. In this case, he appeared to be only mildly shaken, but shaken nonetheless. He pulled his shoulders back and straightened his spine; Uhura could see a visible shiver run through him with the action. And then he was the Spock she was used to under most conditions; facing the world head on with equanimity. She smiled at him and received a slight nod of his head in return.
"We should regroup with the landing party," Spock said. "There does not appear to be any immediate danger."
"It looks like those things are more afraid of us than we are of them. Look how big they are; they could rend us to pieces in seconds with those claws and teeth. It makes me wonder if they had any negative interactions with the colonists?" mused Uhura. "According to the briefing, they never leave their hunting grounds. It doesn't make any sense."
Spock glanced down at her, "Those are all very astute points. It is unfortunate none of the colonists survived for us to question. It does bring into question why the Metron chose to set us down right here. If their intent was for us to contend with the Gorn, it would serve no purpose to leave us defenseless against another, just as deadly, predator. Come, let us rejoin the others."
As they jogged back to the rest of the landing party, Uhura pondered on why they were the only two to take action when told to run. As a matter of fact, who had issued the order? Had someone thought it was something funny to do, some sort of prank? She started getting hot under the collar that someone would be that stupid; probably that joker Kirk. Maybe McCoy; he loved nothing better than to try to get Spock to show some kind of emotion.
As soon as they reached the others, she marched straight up to Kirk and stood nose to chin with him. "Why did you tell us to run, if you and the others weren't going to come, too? Was that some kind of a stupid joke?"
Kirk drew up straight, his hands tight by his sides and glared at her. "Stand down, Lieutenant; you're out of line."
"Captain," Spock's calm tones interjected, "Someone gave the command to run. If it was not you, then who?"
"I gave no order, Spock." Kirk turned to the security team to address them. "Evans, Kowalski, did either one of you say anything?"
"No, sir," came from both men.
McCoy snorted. "Are you saying the dinosaurs told you to run? I knew you heard things we couldn't, Spock, but even for you that's a little far-fetched. Sure, they roared awful loud, but dinosaurs can't speak!"
Spock turned his head, one eyebrow raised at McCoy's absolute certainty. Uhura knew that meant Spock had the ultimate put-down prepared for his nemesis.
"Like the Horta, Doctor McCoy?"
"They were, were silicone based. No reason whatsoever to believe they were even sentient," McCoy argued. "Hell, I put the Horta back together with concrete for crying out loud."
"That does not disprove that these dinosaurs may have other means of communication besides human-like speech that we would recognize," retorted Spock.
"Are you saying you think the dinosaurs are telepathic, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"It is highly probable. Consider, the only crew members who heard the order were myself and Lieutenant Uhura who shares a bond with me," said Spock. "A thought broadcast strongly enough would reach her through the bond."
"Well, then," Kirk rubbed his hands together, looking like a kid getting ready to open all his Christmas presents on Christmas Eve, "we need to make first contact with the locals. Didn't the Metron say we would find everything we needed in the forest?"
Uhura rolled her eyes at the glee in his voice.
"Spock. Do you think you can communicate with them if we get close enough?" Kirk's question was understandable; Vulcans were typically touch telepaths. Getting within touching distance of these dinosaurs didn't, at this early stage, seem like it was going to be easy.
"It would seem they are quite strong projective telepaths; there might be some hope that they are equally receptive to the thoughts of other telepathic species. I will concentrate on projecting thoughts of friendship and collaboration."
Kirk smiled at Spock. "Excellent." He spun to look at Uhura.
"Lieutenant Uhura, do you think the translators the Metron provided us with will help any?" His question made her stop and think.
"Captain, the Metron said we would find everything we needed in the forest and they gave these to us. I don't think it was just to communicate with the Gorn. It may even be what amplified their thoughts for Spock and me to hear." Uhura felt that this had to be correct. Every situation was being manipulated by the Metron; this was just another example.
Spock nodded approvingly. "I concur, captain. Lieutenant Uhura's reasoning is quite sound."
"Well, then. This should be a walk in the park," Kirk grinned at his own pun.
"It's going to be a wild goose chase, is what it is," McCoy predicted.
"Not geese, Bones; dinosaurs!" He clapped McCoy and Spock on the back. "Let's go round them up."
A deep scowl on his face, McCoy nevertheless joined in with the others as they followed the trail of crushed foliage that would lead them to their possible allies. Still, he had to have the parting shot, "Dammit, Jim! I'm a doctor; not a dinosaur wrangler."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HOME ON THE RANGE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larry despaired that they were ever going to get back to their home before the interlopers caught up to them. He and Moe had half-dragged, half-carried Curly since they crossed the border stream. It meant they were very close to home, but not close enough to call for help yet. When Curly tripped for the third time despite their help, he finally let go and let Curly fall on his rump. Moe kept going for a few seconds before he realized Larry and Curly had stopped.
"Boss, we can't stop now. We have to get everyone to safety." Moe made shooing motions with his arms.
"They're gaining on us; I can hear them in the brush. They aren't very quiet." Larry sat on the tree trunk that Curly had tripped on, the wood groaning beneath his weight. "If they keep closing on us at this pace, we'll lead them right to the nesting ground where they can destroy us all."
He stood up abruptly, holding his head high. "We have to take a stand." Larry struck his chest with one forearm. "'Tis a far, far better thing we do today, than we have ever done before." He looked at the other two anxiously. "Do you think Lucy will care if I die?"
Moe slapped at him with his tail. "If you're dead, she's dead and no one is going to care. What are we going to do?"
Larry looked around and realized they were close to one of the groves of lolonuts they gathered to make lolonut oil for cooking. They also played a game with the empty lolonut shells, whacking them into opposing goals with the whittled down branches of the darkwood tree. The empty shells could raise bruises on their shins; the whole nuts that fell from the tree had been known to knock out a full-grown Velc.
"Quick, collect as many lolonuts as you can. The interlopers look quite fragile; practically puny. Think of the headaches we get from one falling on our heads. Perhaps we can make them hurt enough to leave us alone." Larry scurried over to a cluster of fallen nuts and started gathering them up, his back to Curly and Moe. When he wasn't joined immediately by his friends, he called to them.
"C'mon, you guys. Give me a hand." There was no answer. Larry huffed in exasperation and turned to give Curly and Moe a piece of his mind. "I'm not doing this all by...."
"Oh. Oh." He dropped to his rump, his head landing in his hands. A small whine came out of his mouth. "We're dead. We're all dead."
To his surprise, one of the interlopers dressed in blue stepped toward him and held his upper appendages out at them, hands open and empty. He wasn't holding the silver tube attached to his side; a tube like the ones the ancestors had claimed burned and destroyed. The paintings in the bax cave showed how the Gorn had murdered the clans of eight generations ago. However, the paintings in the bax cave didn't show these flat-snouted interlopers. Larry didn't know what to think; this was all out of his realm of experience and the clan's ancestral memories.
Larry felt a tickle in the back of his mind; it felt like one of the nestlings when it was first learning mind speech. He cocked his head at the strange creature, remaining very still, listening. As the blue figure moved closer, step by step, the tickle grew stronger and finally started to resolve into two faint words repeated over and over: friend, ally, friend, ally.
Taking the biggest chance of his life, Larry stood up and creeping forward slowly, touched the hand of the strange creature.
"My mind to your mind." With those strange sounds, Larry tumbled down into the most amazing stream of thoughts he had ever encountered.
Part 2
At AO3
Artist: lymanalpha
Author: sail_aweigh
Rating (both art/fic): PG
Genre/Pairing: Gen, background Spock/Uhura, Kirk/McCoy
Word Count: 13,400
Warnings: Dinosaurs being frat boys with foul mouths. Really. And you might get an eye poked out.
Summary: Larry just wants to impress a girl. Instead, he saves the world?
Disclaimer: Writing this for fun, not for profit.
Author notes: Written for trekreversebang 2012 edition. Thank you to my lovely beta, ken_ichijouji
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~NOT EXACTLY A MIDSUMMER'S NIGHT DREAM~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larry woke up with his mouth tasting like a bilgesnipe had died in it. He ran his tongue around his teeth feeling the scum there and doing his best to scrape it off. His best wasn't very good. Huffing out a breath even he could smell, Larry wrinkled his nose at the sour odor. He buried his face in the earthy loam beneath him for a few seconds, sniffing the leaves and dirt. It didn't change the taste in his mouth, but the scent sure was better.
It smelled so good, just like his regular nest, that Larry thought he'd lie there a little longer. Maybe take a nap, dream about sneaking out to the mating grounds with Lucy. But the longer he stayed on the forest floor, the longer it would take him to get back to his clanmates and their encampment. Groaning, Larry levered himself to his feet.
He took his time, letting his weight settle in place before attempting anything complicated: like walking. A weave here and a bobble there got him from the clump of bushes he'd woken up in to the edge of the nearby stream. The sun glinting off the water made him squint and his eyes sting. Ugh, hangovers sucked. See if he let Moe talk him into cruising the jango patch again looking for fermented fruit. Hell, he didn't even make it back to their nest last night before passing out. And it's not like Moe had even tried to cover him up to hide him from predators! Bastard.
At the water's edge, Larry looked around for a lolonut shell. He knew there had to be some around; this was a frequent watering hole for his clan. It took a few minutes of poking at the trunks of a couple saplings before he found one tied off with a long vine. He pulled it up, hand over hand and poured the cool liquid into his mouth. Relief!
Four shells full of water later, Larry was starting to feel a little more lively. He straightened up a bit, lifting his head to take a more careful look around him. Scanning from side to side, he realized the bushes he'd woken up in were just at the edge of the savannah. Shit, he was way too close to being out in the open than he liked right now. It was one thing when he had Moe and Curly by his side; they had their moves down as a hunting unit. Unaccompanied, he was a target for larger, or sneakier, predators. He was going straight back to the encampment and giving Moe a piece of his mind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~YES THIS IS A STAR TREK STORY~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Captain, I'm receiving a garbled distress call from the colony on Cestus III," Nyota Uhura announced. She turned away from her communications console to face the captain's chair, remaining calm as the captain swung towards her station.
"Did they state the nature of their problem, Lieutenant?" asked Kirk. He maintained a relaxed position in the chair, but Uhura could see that his leg was starting to bounce a little. She predicted another rendezvous with trouble in his future. Kirk had been antsy for a while now, waiting while Spock completed a survey of the inner two planets for minerals that couldn't be found on Cestus III. The colony had a shortage of bauxite, stifling their ability to produce the aluminum used for so many things: buildings, transport vehicles, and packaging, to name a few.
Uhura concentrated on the transmission, teasing more content from the signal. Her eyebrows shot up. "It sounds like they're being overrun by lizards, captain."
"They need an exterminator?" asked Kirk. He shook his head in disbelief, stifling an undignified snort.
Turning away from the helm, Chekov glanced over at Kirk as he beamed his smile around the bridge, grinning at his own wit. "Perhaps it is something like tribbles? No one wants that kind of trouble," he said with a decisive nod. His quip got a few snickers from some of the other crewmen on the bridge, even Uhura. When Spock directed his impassive gaze at him, Chekov muttered under his breath before turning back to his console, "Just joking."
Kirk looked over to where Spock was standing facing him, having straightened up from his science console to listen to the conversation. "What do you think, Spock? Can we provide them with a better mousetrap? It doesn't seem like something our phaser banks can take care of without damaging the settlement."
"Captain, I suggest we scan the colony first to verify the problem," said Spock. Uhura nodded her head in approval. That was Kirk; always looking for a way to play with his "toys" as he liked to call them. She'd overheard him referring to them as "better rayguns than anything from Buck Rogers in the 21st century." As if. More like--better than Battlestar Galactica, if anything. Kirk's tastes were so juvenile.
"You're right, as usual," Kirk admitted. "We don't need a hammer to swat a fly. What do our records say about the fauna of Cestus III?" Kirk swung his chair from side-to-side, his excitement visibly growing.
Spock turned back to his console and pulled up the file for Cestus III. He scanned the information briefly, his eyes stopping only once to double-check the information. One eyebrow rose before he swivelled to face Kirk to report on his findings.
"The initial survey of the planet indicated that most of the smaller life forms on the planet are mammalian and mostly harmless. There are, however, pockets of saurids still residing in some of the forests."
"Dinosaurs?" Kirk interjected. "What kind of dinosaurs?"
Spock glanced at the readout once more. "A smaller predator. They keep themselves isolated, not leaving their localized forested areas for the savannah. The survey team was never able to observe them as they appeared to be quite averse to contact with anything on two legs. The few they managed to survey from blinds set up at the edge of the forest always seemed to know exactly where they were and would turn away, avoiding any type of confrontation, either hostile or friendly. The survey team ultimately declared the planet safe for colonization."
Kirk rubbed his chin in thought. "Is it possible their food source is dwindling and they've become desperate enough to prey on the colonists?"
"Negative, captain." Spock spoke with his usual calm composure. "According to the survey team, there was abundant smaller fauna in the forest. Unless there has been a major climactic event unreported by the colony that may have affected the mammalian population of the forests, we have no reason to believe they have changed their habits out of necessity."
"And dinosaurs aren't lizards, either," mused Jim. He looked over to Uhura. "Have you been able to glean more information from the distress call?"
Uhura paused before answering. "The lizards are demanding surrender."
"What the f....? Are you sure, Lieutenant?" Kirk frowned at her.
With a flick of her ponytail, Uhura lifted her head until she was looking down her nose at Kirk in disdain. Not an easy thing to do from a seated position; but Uhura had perfected it around Kirk. "I would not have reported it, if it wasn't exactly what they said."
Kirk massaged his temples with one hand and sighed. "My apologies, Lieutenant. We all know about your exceptional aural sensitivity." He gave her his most charming smile, which bounced off the aura of disapproval that Uhura radiated at him. "Keep me posted as you decipher more of their transmission." Giving her a nod with a more subdued line to his mouth, she returned the nod as he swung back toward the helm.
"Chekov, set course to Cestus III. Sulu, warp factor 4. Let's see what kind of lizard demands surrender; it better not look like a gecko."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~DID YOU SAY YOU WANTED MORE DINOSAURS?~~~~~~~~~~
"C'mon, Larry. It will be fun, you said. It's not fun when I wake up on the edge of the plain of the treacherous elders with no one to stand guard over me." Larry curled his hand into a fist and brought it down on Moe's head another time, punctuating the physical blow with an ear-splitting roar.
Curly scoffed at that. "Quit being a big crybaby. No one has seen an elder for nearly eight generations. They've abandoned the planet. Good riddance to them."
Larry spun to face Curly and he hissed at him. "It doesn't matter; the genocide will never be forgotten. Our numbers are but a tenth of what they were. We don't need to tempt fate."
"Besides, it was fun," Moe said, from where he was still cowering behind raised forearms. "You serenaded Lucy with Moon River and then tried to convince her to go with you to the stinky hot springs. She told you to go play your bongos by yourself." The statement was accompanied by a series of whistling snorts. Larry turned his head baring his teeth at Moe, ready to lash out at him.
Curly nodded his head in agreement. "That's right, boss. You insisted you could go it alone. So did Lucy. Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk."
Larry's head whipped back around and he jabbed two digits at Curly's eyes, but found them blocked by a swift moving appendage. Before Curly had a chance to celebrate his victory over Larry, he felt his teeth clacking together painfully like two bamzoo wands being beaten together during a sparring match.
"You guys are not funny. Now Lucy's never going to look at me, or sneak off to the mating grounds with me." Larry's head drooped on his neck, while his forearms rose up to cover his head as if trying to hide from his failure.
Moe rolled his eyes. "Lucy is never going to look at you, dummy; she's only got eyes for Ricky and you know it."
"What's he got that I haven't got?" said Larry, his head popping back up. "I'm fast, I have a well-padded nest, I'm one of the best hunters in the clan. Why wouldn't Lucy want me over Ricky?" He pounded his forearms against his breast.
"Because Ricky's got real bongos, not just metaphorical, and even those are bigger than yours anyway?" High-pitched wheezes came from both Moe and Curly,as they congratulated each other by slapping palms in a high-five. Eyes squeezed shut, they were laughing so hard, they were completely unprepared when Larry swung around fast, sweeping both of them off their feet with a resounding thud.
"You guys suck. See if I ever help either of you in your wooing." Larry slapped them both again before storming off, his stomping feet crushing the springy ground cover under him. The fact it sprang back, releasing a fragrant and pleasing scent left him completely unsatisfied and gnashing his teeth. He felt the need to destroy something.
Moving into a lope, Larry plotted as he ran through the tall green fronds and low succulent shrubs of the forest. The fair Lucy would be his. He knew where there was a nest of merulians that had just littered; it would be the perfect place to wreak some havoc. And if he brought back some of their luxuriant golden skins, maybe he could get Lucy to look at him when he handed her enough of them to make a cape, or maybe a cunning toque. With his confidence buoyed, Larry headed straight back toward the edge of the forest. She'd be even more impressed by his daring in acquiring these rare prizes. He could hardly wait.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~GECKOS NEED NOT APPLY ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Uhura was unsurprised that the captain was whistling while they waited for the rest of the landing party to congregate in the transporter room. Kirk had been visibly bubbling over with excitement at the thought of marauding dinosaurs, despite the fact that Spock kept reassuring him that it was 99.8% probable that the attacking lizards were not the insular saurids.
Kirk rubbed his hands together, pacing in front of the transporter platform and muttering under his breath. "C'mon, Bones. Get your grumpy ass up here. This is going to be a new one for the record books."
Uhura pursed her lips at the profanity, turning her back on the captain. It wasn't like she disapproved of profanity, in general; it was all a form of communication and the way profanity was used often gave insight to the defining values of a culture. But, she felt in her estimation that the captain of the fleet's flagship should be more dignified.
Nonetheless, like the captain, she couldn't help exhibiting her own nervousness, tapping one booted foot against the pristine tile of the transporter room floor. She wished she could emulate the calm serenity of Spock; her meditation practice was improving, but so much of her feelings were still not close to being under her control. Her foot stilled, though, as Spock came to stand beside her and his hand reached out casually to lay two fingers against two of hers where her hands lay clasped in the small of her back. She would have turned toward him, to acknowledge the solace he provided, but McCoy came bustling into the room just then, the habitual scowl on his face pulling his eyebrows down over the bridge of his nose until he looked almost Vulcan.
"Dammit, Jim. What do you need to be going down to the surface for? Isn't this something a security team should be handling?" McCoy tugged on the strap of his tricorder in irritation. He moved towards Kirk, leaning forward a little with his hands clasped behind his back so he could get right into Kirk's face. "This isn't a casual exploratory expedition, Jim. There will probably be violence and unknown dangers. We can't afford to lose our captain because you want to play Buck Rogers."
Buck Rogers, again, Uhura scoffed mentally. Kirk was more like Kara Thrace: rebellious, full of bluster, a little broken. Well, maybe more than a little broken. At least she could give him credit for his devotion to McCoy. Uhura gave a little shake of her head and bit her cheek to stop the laugh when Kirk slapped McCoy on the shoulder and launched his broadside to McCoy's objections.
She could feel Spock in the back of her mind, questioning what amused her so much about the relationship between the captain and the doctor. Her reply was to ask him if he'd ever read "The Taming of the Shrew" by William Shakespeare. His thoughts retreated momentarily while he contemplated the permutations. They didn't have time to finish their discussion when Kirk continued his cannonade at McCoy.
"Dinosaurs, Bones!" His smile was as nearly blinding as the sun. And, as usual, the good doctor melted under it. He stood with arms crossed, one hand in front of his mouth trying to smother a small smile, while his cheeks pinkened a little.
"Well, don't come running to me when you get eaten by one," said McCoy. His arms came down as he gave another tug on his tricorder. "We don't know what we're going to find, since that distress call turned out to be automated."
"I already told you: dinosaurs! Small ones; they'll be more afraid of us than we are of them." Kirk was practically vibrating at the thought. Uhura figured he had been one of those kids who stood in his front yard trying to tease small animals into eating out of his hand so he could pet them, but had so much nervous energy none of them would come near him.
Kirk finally clapped his hands once for attention and ordered everyone in the landing party up onto the transporter pads with a hearty, "Saddle up!"
This particular group consisted of himself, McCoy, Spock, Uhura and a two-member security team. The secondary security team of six stood off to one side, waiting for the main landing party to dematerialize on their journey down to the planet's surface before taking their turn.
Uhura knew that Spock had objected to this configuration, as he always did, before they even got to the transporter room. Regulaiton 403b, section 94i, paragraph 31 governing the composition of landing parties being inserted into unsecured territory had been cited, but Kirk had just waved Spock's objections away, asserting that he thought better and faster when he had his entire command team around him. He'd give his most innocent smile--Uhura admitted he could look almost angelic at times--and tell Spock he couldn't argue with that, now could he? Spock could, but he'd learned to quit trying after his token objection. Uhura didn't even need to be standing next to Spock to feel his resignation at Kirk's actions in the back of her mind. Her thoughts were brought back to the transporter room by Kirk's voice.
"Any time you're ready, Scotty," said Kirk. Everyone straightened up, senses alert, waiting for the transporter to whisk them down to the surface.
The last thing Uhura saw before the whine of the transporter overcame her senses was Scotty's face contorting in dismay.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~WHAT, YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS A COMEDY?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larry watched the merulians from behind the tall stalks of a large cluster of bamzoo. He'd done his best to remain downwind of their den while maintaining good cover. It made him nervous, though, because downwind left his back exposed to the savannah. His neck was getting a crick in it from constantly twisting to look over his shoulders for danger.
It was worth it, though. With these precious furs, he could demonstrate his resourcefulness as a provider. Ricky couldn't do that for Lucy. The most he could do was provide entertainment for the clan with his hide and bamzoo bongos. It was ridiculous that people actually gave Ricky food and nest materials to listen to his bashing and crashing.
Larry was hunkered down in a crouch, one part of his brain lost in his thoughts of Lucy, the other concentrating on just the right time to pounce. It was only slowly that the smell of smoke started to tease at his senses. He'd just turned his head for the umpteenth billion time, when something sharp poked him in his offside. With a startled shriek, he jumped straight up and nearly tipped over backwards, his feet scrabbling at the ground, before he caught his balance.
Snorting laughter coming from the side that got poked had him whirling in spot, his mouth open to display all his teeth in threat. With a bone-crunching snap, he crushed the bamzoo stick that Curly had jabbed him with.
"Your head next, you braying ass!" Curly squealed as Larry yanked on the remains of the stick, reeling him in until Larry could take a fist and pound Curly on his head. Moe, seeing the way this was playing out, for once, hung back out of reach just behind Curly.
"Ouch, boss, ouch. Quit it. I'm sorry, alright?" Curly scrubbed at his head with his tail, soothing the abused spot left by Larry's blow. "What's a braying ass, anyway?"
"Heck if I know, but it sounded good."
Larry turned back towards the merulian's den to see that they had either all scattered into the underbrush or burrowed deep into their den. Dammit. He was going to go home empty-handed tonight.
Discouraged, he turned to his cohort and glared at them until they both hung their heads in shame. "You owe me. You owe me big. I want--"
Throwing his partner under the counterweight of the lolonut mill, Moe said, " I had nothing to do with Curly's jo--stupidity, Boss. But we have something important to show you. Really. We wouldn't have come, otherwise." He pointed out toward the savannah.
The three gathered in a tight cluster, peering out from the bamzoo screen to the horizon where a dark gray haze was slowly spreading toward the forest. This was the origin of that smell that had been teasing Larry for the past half hour. He shouldn't have ignored it; fire being pushed across the savannah by the prevailing winds was a serious danger.
"What do you think started it?" Curly whispered.
"Lightning strikes can do it," said Moe. "But we haven't had a storm in weeks." His tail lashed in agitation. He looked over to Larry, watching him carefully.
Larry's head was high, his nostrils open, scenting as much as he could. "It smells unnatural. It's not just plants burning; it's something else."
"What's that?" Curly pointed to where a dark black plume was rising from one side of the dark cloud rolling across the grass.
"It looks like one of the tar pits on fire. I didn't know there were any over there," said Moe.
Larry gave him a half-hearted swat on the side of the head, he was too worried to put more effort into it. "That's because we've never been over there, numbskull."
"Do you, do you think it's the elders, Larry? Do you think they've come back. Are they trying to burn us out?" Curly hunkered down, drawing all his appendages in protectively.
Larry paced back and forth in front of his pack. No matter how often he'd held the elders up as a threat to keep the other two in line, he'd been convinced that they were long gone. The treacherous Gorn hadn't bothered to raze the forest last time; they'd just used those terrible lightning weapons that burned and seared. They'd cut the Velc done one by one and only a few had managed to escape into the bax caves and the tunnels deep into the earth.
"No, the Gorn do it face-to-face or not at all," Larry said. "Unless..."
Moe and Curly looked up at him from where they were crouched low to the ground, prepared for flight. When Larry didn't speak again in what seemed like forever, they chorused, "WHAT?"
"Unless there is someone else out there." Larry turned to Moe and Curly, his tail lifted, head stretched out long. "We need to go and warn the others; there are interlopers."
With a bellow that rang across the plain, the three Velc gathered their haunches and launched their long bodies back into the forest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~THAT'S THE LAST TIME I BOOK THROUGH PRICELINE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Uhura moved to pull her phaser as soon as she materialized on the planet's surface, but found her holster empty. A quick pat along her utility belt informed her that her communicator and universal translator were also missing. She was backing up into the standard defensive formation even before Kirk issued the command.
"Landing party, report." Kirk's voice wasn't loud, but his authority was distinct in the cadence of his speech. Everybody moved quickly to obey, Uhura noted, scanning their surroundings for immediate threat.
Once in position, each member of the landing party detailed their missing equipment. Even McCoy's tricorder had been taken. Uhura could see they were all standing on a grassy plain, open and vulnerable to attack, yet there didn't appear to be anybody else there. The grass underfoot was dry and brittle, a light breeze brought the smell of smoke with it. To the west of them was a dark green treeline that might offer some shelter from the overhead sun, but the truly worrying thing was the smokey haze they could see and smell to the east of them.
Uhura relaxed marginally, along with the others, when there appeared little or no chance of direct attack at close quarters. Kirk posted one member each of the security team on either side of the landing party to keep watch on the edge of the forest and the encroaching wall of smoke.
"Spock, any theories where we are?" Kirk asked.
Spock visually measured the distance from the forest to the smoke rolling across the plain. "I would venture we are on Cestus III, but we have been diverted some 40-50 kilometers west of the colony. I'm sorry I can't be more precise in my prediction; we don't know when the fire started or how fast it has moved under the prevailing winds. My estimation is based on our distance to the tree line."
"I was afraid you'd say something like that." Kirk rubbed the back of his neck, facing the conflagration that was undoubtedly consuming what had once been the colony. "Is it worth the risk of being caught in the fire to see if we can scavenge something of use from the colony? We have no way of letting Scotty know we're in trouble."
"Captain, we have only to wait here and when we don't check in, Commander Scott will undoubtedly beam us back up," Spock stated.
McCoy scoffed. "And if someone or something could magic our weapons and communicators away, what makes you think they haven't done the same with the Enterprise? Nor will they know where we are, since we aren't at the original beam in point."
"I was only reminding the captain of standard procedure, Dr. McCoy. It appears to be my main task as his First Officer." Spock stood resolute under McCoy's skeptical gaze. "However, I agree with the captain in this instance. The colony is our best opportunity for finding something we can use to communicate with the ship. Perhaps that distress beacon we followed."
"Well, now you're talking downright logical, Spock. Don't surprise me like that; I don't know if my old heart can take it." McCoy rocked on his heels, looking all too happy with his perceived verbal victory in Uhura's opinion. But then, she thought she might be just a tad partial and McCoy always thought he was far more clever than he was.
Once that was decided, they quickly assembled into position with the security team taking point and rear guard. They had barely started their trek across the plain, when a group of unknown beings materialized 20 meters to the north of them. The entire landing party turned towards them assuming defensive postures, as did the opposing group.
Looking them over carefully, Uhura could see they were vaguely reptilian in form, but clearly bipedal. She surmised these were the likely attackers of the colony. One creature was dressed more ornately than the others and stood to the forefront. Without any attempt at communication, the apparent leader of the "lizards" charged their group.
Kirk stepped forward to meet him but before either could come within reach, they were both frozen in place as a form in shimmering white appeared floating between the two groups.
"You are trespassing; this world is under our protection," stated the newest arrival.
"Who are you? Why have you brought us here?" Kirk asked from where he stood locked in place.
The shimmering form looked down at Kirk and the leader of the lizards. "We are the Metron. Your actions have caused the inhabitants of this planet much distress. Your aggression is barbaric. We have yet to decide if you are worthy to continue in existence."
Uhura could hear the other commander addressing the Metron in a voice full of clicks and sibilants. She wished longingly for her universal translator. To her surprise, a silver tube appeared on her utility belt. When she looked around she could see that everyone now had one. Uhura turned her attention back to the conversation between the lizard leader and the Metron.
"We claimed this planet for the Gorn more than eight generations ago. These creatures are interlopers on our land. We destroy all interlopers," insisted the Gorn leader.
Kirk glared at the Gorn. "You murdered innocent people. Our colony has been there for over one hundred years, unmolested until now and harming no one."
The Metron interrupted, "It matters not. When the two groups confronted each other, they did not stop until both groups were completely annihilated. Neither of you are currently worthy to husband this land."
"If we are unworthy, why did you not kill us where we stand?" Kirk challenged the Metron's motives. "I don't believe you think that or we'd be dead already. What do you really want?"
The Metron looked down at Kirk, impassive for many moments. Uhura thought for just a second that Kirk had actually talked his way out of their dilemma. The Gorn just kept roaring as loud as they could at the Metron, not even verbalizing any sort of objection or compromise.
"No, we disdain violence. We will give you both the opportunity to settle your differences through strength and ingenuity. You will both have the same advantages; how you use them will determine your fate. Everything you need may be found in the forest." With that proclamation, the Metron waved his hand and for the third time that day, the landing party found themselves deposited in an unknown location.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~IT'S A FINE MESS YOU'VE GOTTEN US INTO, OLLIE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larry, Moe and Curly ran flat out for the nesting grounds as if the legendary thunderbird of Poc was chasing them, leaping over some bushes and crashing through others. All the small animals that lived in the underbrush fled from them. None of the three even thought of catching some of them to take home to fill the feed pens.
"Are they following us?" Curly panted as he ran, his breath wheezing in and out loudly. Larry would have told him to cut back on his propensity for not just a fourth meal, but a fifth and sometimes a sixth meal, but he was too busy looking over his shoulder for intruders to answer immediately.
"That's a stupid question," Moe said. "Of course they're following us. We wouldn't be running away from them if they weren't." He attempted to swat at Curly with his tail, but it threw him off-balance and he ran snout first right into a darkwood tree.
Curly stopped, lowering himself to sit on his haunches while he gasped in air, his lungs pumping in and out like the bellows used to fan the communal hearth. "I can't run anymore; you guys are going to have to carry me."
Larry came to a skidding stop, his arms flailing for balance before he leaned one on the same darkwood tree that Moe and face-planted into. "I can't see or hear anyone. It doesn't mean they're not there, though. We need to keep going."
"I caaaan'tt--urk!" Curly's whine would have gone on longer but he found his mouth stuffed with leaves off the darkwood tree.
Larry got into his face and hissed at him. "You will. We all will. This isn't a joke. The Gorn will destroy us all, again. Maybe worse than last time. We have to get everyone, we need to get Lucy, into the tunnels of the bax cave before it's too late."
By the time Larry was done shaking sense into Curly, Moe had untangled himself from the trunk of the darkwood. He stood there massaging his snout with his hands and wiggling his jaw side-to-side. "You guys, can we just go? I'm tired and my snout hurts. So do me feet," he added, shifting from foot to foot. He reached around Larry and leaned forward to pull Curly to his feet. When he looked back up he froze.
"Larry, Larry. Is that them?" Moe's voice shook; he stood paralyzed, his outstretched hand still holding onto Curly's arm. Curly started shaking at the fear he could feel coming off Moe.
"What, what? Where?" Larry looked in the direction of Moe's gaze and saw six strangely shaped creatures frozen in place no more than three lolonut tree lengths from them. He looked at the silver cylinders strapped to their sides; had heard the stories of burnt and broken bodies. There was only one thing to be done.
All three Velc's mouths opened at once in a roar. "RUN!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~IT COULD HAVE BEEN BUNNIES~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"RUN!"
Uhura didn't even stop to question the order; she just started running in the opposite direction from the one she'd been standing in when the landing party materialized in a stand of trees. She'd made it about twenty yards, dodging through unfamiliar vegetation, when she realized the only ones running were her and Spock.
Looking back over her shoulder she saw the other four members of the landing party facing the other way watching three horse-sized dinosaurs galloping away from them, one of them being dragged by the other two the best they could with their short, stumpy forearms. McCoy had his hand on Kirk's shoulder, whether for support or to hold him back, Uhura had no clue. Meanwhile, Kirk just stood there and scratched the top of his head. The security team had taken up a defensive stance in front of the other officers, although there currently appeared to be no need for it. No one made an effort to pursue the dinosaurs, but why would they? They were DINOSAURS. Albeit, what appeared to be fraidy-pants dinosaurs busy running away from the much smaller humans.
She and Spock came to halt and looked at each other. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could normally put Spock out of continence; she'd only seen it once, immediately in the aftermath of the destruction of Vulcan. In this case, he appeared to be only mildly shaken, but shaken nonetheless. He pulled his shoulders back and straightened his spine; Uhura could see a visible shiver run through him with the action. And then he was the Spock she was used to under most conditions; facing the world head on with equanimity. She smiled at him and received a slight nod of his head in return.
"We should regroup with the landing party," Spock said. "There does not appear to be any immediate danger."
"It looks like those things are more afraid of us than we are of them. Look how big they are; they could rend us to pieces in seconds with those claws and teeth. It makes me wonder if they had any negative interactions with the colonists?" mused Uhura. "According to the briefing, they never leave their hunting grounds. It doesn't make any sense."
Spock glanced down at her, "Those are all very astute points. It is unfortunate none of the colonists survived for us to question. It does bring into question why the Metron chose to set us down right here. If their intent was for us to contend with the Gorn, it would serve no purpose to leave us defenseless against another, just as deadly, predator. Come, let us rejoin the others."
As they jogged back to the rest of the landing party, Uhura pondered on why they were the only two to take action when told to run. As a matter of fact, who had issued the order? Had someone thought it was something funny to do, some sort of prank? She started getting hot under the collar that someone would be that stupid; probably that joker Kirk. Maybe McCoy; he loved nothing better than to try to get Spock to show some kind of emotion.
As soon as they reached the others, she marched straight up to Kirk and stood nose to chin with him. "Why did you tell us to run, if you and the others weren't going to come, too? Was that some kind of a stupid joke?"
Kirk drew up straight, his hands tight by his sides and glared at her. "Stand down, Lieutenant; you're out of line."
"Captain," Spock's calm tones interjected, "Someone gave the command to run. If it was not you, then who?"
"I gave no order, Spock." Kirk turned to the security team to address them. "Evans, Kowalski, did either one of you say anything?"
"No, sir," came from both men.
McCoy snorted. "Are you saying the dinosaurs told you to run? I knew you heard things we couldn't, Spock, but even for you that's a little far-fetched. Sure, they roared awful loud, but dinosaurs can't speak!"
Spock turned his head, one eyebrow raised at McCoy's absolute certainty. Uhura knew that meant Spock had the ultimate put-down prepared for his nemesis.
"Like the Horta, Doctor McCoy?"
"They were, were silicone based. No reason whatsoever to believe they were even sentient," McCoy argued. "Hell, I put the Horta back together with concrete for crying out loud."
"That does not disprove that these dinosaurs may have other means of communication besides human-like speech that we would recognize," retorted Spock.
"Are you saying you think the dinosaurs are telepathic, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"It is highly probable. Consider, the only crew members who heard the order were myself and Lieutenant Uhura who shares a bond with me," said Spock. "A thought broadcast strongly enough would reach her through the bond."
"Well, then," Kirk rubbed his hands together, looking like a kid getting ready to open all his Christmas presents on Christmas Eve, "we need to make first contact with the locals. Didn't the Metron say we would find everything we needed in the forest?"
Uhura rolled her eyes at the glee in his voice.
"Spock. Do you think you can communicate with them if we get close enough?" Kirk's question was understandable; Vulcans were typically touch telepaths. Getting within touching distance of these dinosaurs didn't, at this early stage, seem like it was going to be easy.
"It would seem they are quite strong projective telepaths; there might be some hope that they are equally receptive to the thoughts of other telepathic species. I will concentrate on projecting thoughts of friendship and collaboration."
Kirk smiled at Spock. "Excellent." He spun to look at Uhura.
"Lieutenant Uhura, do you think the translators the Metron provided us with will help any?" His question made her stop and think.
"Captain, the Metron said we would find everything we needed in the forest and they gave these to us. I don't think it was just to communicate with the Gorn. It may even be what amplified their thoughts for Spock and me to hear." Uhura felt that this had to be correct. Every situation was being manipulated by the Metron; this was just another example.
Spock nodded approvingly. "I concur, captain. Lieutenant Uhura's reasoning is quite sound."
"Well, then. This should be a walk in the park," Kirk grinned at his own pun.
"It's going to be a wild goose chase, is what it is," McCoy predicted.
"Not geese, Bones; dinosaurs!" He clapped McCoy and Spock on the back. "Let's go round them up."
A deep scowl on his face, McCoy nevertheless joined in with the others as they followed the trail of crushed foliage that would lead them to their possible allies. Still, he had to have the parting shot, "Dammit, Jim! I'm a doctor; not a dinosaur wrangler."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~HOME ON THE RANGE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Larry despaired that they were ever going to get back to their home before the interlopers caught up to them. He and Moe had half-dragged, half-carried Curly since they crossed the border stream. It meant they were very close to home, but not close enough to call for help yet. When Curly tripped for the third time despite their help, he finally let go and let Curly fall on his rump. Moe kept going for a few seconds before he realized Larry and Curly had stopped.
"Boss, we can't stop now. We have to get everyone to safety." Moe made shooing motions with his arms.
"They're gaining on us; I can hear them in the brush. They aren't very quiet." Larry sat on the tree trunk that Curly had tripped on, the wood groaning beneath his weight. "If they keep closing on us at this pace, we'll lead them right to the nesting ground where they can destroy us all."
He stood up abruptly, holding his head high. "We have to take a stand." Larry struck his chest with one forearm. "'Tis a far, far better thing we do today, than we have ever done before." He looked at the other two anxiously. "Do you think Lucy will care if I die?"
Moe slapped at him with his tail. "If you're dead, she's dead and no one is going to care. What are we going to do?"
Larry looked around and realized they were close to one of the groves of lolonuts they gathered to make lolonut oil for cooking. They also played a game with the empty lolonut shells, whacking them into opposing goals with the whittled down branches of the darkwood tree. The empty shells could raise bruises on their shins; the whole nuts that fell from the tree had been known to knock out a full-grown Velc.
"Quick, collect as many lolonuts as you can. The interlopers look quite fragile; practically puny. Think of the headaches we get from one falling on our heads. Perhaps we can make them hurt enough to leave us alone." Larry scurried over to a cluster of fallen nuts and started gathering them up, his back to Curly and Moe. When he wasn't joined immediately by his friends, he called to them.
"C'mon, you guys. Give me a hand." There was no answer. Larry huffed in exasperation and turned to give Curly and Moe a piece of his mind. "I'm not doing this all by...."
"Oh. Oh." He dropped to his rump, his head landing in his hands. A small whine came out of his mouth. "We're dead. We're all dead."
To his surprise, one of the interlopers dressed in blue stepped toward him and held his upper appendages out at them, hands open and empty. He wasn't holding the silver tube attached to his side; a tube like the ones the ancestors had claimed burned and destroyed. The paintings in the bax cave showed how the Gorn had murdered the clans of eight generations ago. However, the paintings in the bax cave didn't show these flat-snouted interlopers. Larry didn't know what to think; this was all out of his realm of experience and the clan's ancestral memories.
Larry felt a tickle in the back of his mind; it felt like one of the nestlings when it was first learning mind speech. He cocked his head at the strange creature, remaining very still, listening. As the blue figure moved closer, step by step, the tickle grew stronger and finally started to resolve into two faint words repeated over and over: friend, ally, friend, ally.
Taking the biggest chance of his life, Larry stood up and creeping forward slowly, touched the hand of the strange creature.
"My mind to your mind." With those strange sounds, Larry tumbled down into the most amazing stream of thoughts he had ever encountered.
Part 2
At AO3