[END MISSION] Lt Cmdr Naledi - Unexpect the Expected

[Naledi]

((Bridge, USS Invicta , Holosuite 4, Deck 5, USS Thor))

 

The Insectoid Captain, sat in their centre seat. Although the centre chair was the fixture of the bridge, and all other stations as well as the viewscreen was adjusted to align with it, Naledi didn’t realise just how well Starfleet engineers did their job until they sat down.

The dogfight of the limping ships endured on the viewscreen, explosions caused by both sides erupted and enabled the storms of the Badlands.

This was a truly awful region of space, and Naledi knew they needed to leave for repairs, or risk becoming a permanent fixture there.


Tito: Understood Captain. ::looking at Alora:: You have your orders Ensign.

Naledi: Pop Tick Snap Creak… When engineering has conferred with helm, engage at your own initiative.

DeVeau: Yes sir. 

 

Although the centre seat was still uncomfortable, and Naledi’s shifts covering the bridges centre chair had prepared them for eventual command, they still felt they were quite a way off from being ready to lead their own ship. They knew for a fact they wanted to speak to Commander DeVeau soon after this programme to hear their feedback.

Suddenly a loud crack echoed through the Badlands. Through the viewscreen it was clear that one of the Xindi ships had been destroyed, perhaps both. The battleground was semi-obscured by a nearby plasma storm.

As the ships thrusters threw the Cardiff-Class Starship around on it’s axis, Naledi pressed a button on their arm console, switching the viewscreens viewer to the rear.

Through the loop of the warp ring, the battleground slowly became a pinpoint, until it was barely visible at all.

Naledi: Pew Crack Snap Pop… Lieutenant Tito, Ensign DeVeau, how are systems coping post event?

DeVeau: Scans are struggling with the plasma, but I’m not reading signs of any active ships - nothing’s following us.  Closely, at least. 

Tito: Response

 

A part of Naledi wanted to jump up from their seat and retake the tactical station. On the bridge it was where they’d evolved as a crewmember. If Naledi’s career were to be viewed on a map, it would have been the origin. But no, the ship needed it’s captain, and the ship was in desperate need of repair.

 

Naledi: Tick Snap Crack… ETA To Deep Space Nine?

Tito: Response

DeVeau: Sir, the brood is safe and healthy…and hatching has started.  They should emerge any moment.  

Naledi: Crick Snap Pop Hiss… Very good.

Tito: Response

 

The birthing of a new batch of Xindi would be a special occasion anywhere, however it was statistically unlikely that all of them would hatch all at once. It was a possibility that the holodecks computing core was struggling running four simultaneous simulations.

 

DeVeau: I would like to propose that we greet them. 

 

Looking ahead of the ship and towards the viewscreen, nothing seemed to be amiss, or at least nothing amiss for the Badlands. They supposed that a few moments could be spared to view the miracle of birth.

 

Naledi: Pew Pop Tick… Very Well. Let’s go

Tito: Response

 

With the three of the “real” officers back in the turbolift rising through the ship towards the shuttlebay, Naledi considered the implications on the two humanoids. Not just the implications of seeing baby Xindi-Insectoid, but what the effect of holographic hormones would be. It was a fact well known to a few on the Thor that when Xindi-Insectoids are born, a behaviour-altering neurotransmitter is released into the air, effectively forcing anyone nearby to care for the offspring as their parent. Would the holodeck release that into the air? Were the safeties even on?  

 

As the doors of the turbolift and out into the shuttlebay opened, the three of them stepped out. Several members of the crew had also gathered around the pod, presumably to ensure the new Xindi were safe, both before and after they emerged from their pod.

Naledi’s antenna could detect the tingles of holographic pheromones in the air. The Xindi inside were ready to emerge. Gently, Naledi clicked their mandibles. It wasn’t to form words, but to make a sound similar to the equivalent of a human pressing their lips to blow a raspberry, or go “psst psst” to summon a feline. For Xindi-Insectoid, this call was a genetic memory, an instinctive call to know that they can leave the hatchery, that it is safe.

 

DeVeau: Oh! They’re coming!

 

Just as they should.

 

Tito: Response

 

The sounds inside of the chamber grew in intensity, before the flicker of light at the door indicated the shadows of Xindi leaving.

However, just before they exited, presumably on all fours, crawling towards Naledi. The lights in the shuttlebay dimmed, and the red alert speakers started to play a piece of human music Naledi was not familiar with. One by one, in line with the beat infant Xindi-Insectoids left the hatchery. Not nude and on all fours, but upright, well dressed in what Naledi recognised as “Tuxedos”. Each wore a small top hat, with cutouts for their antenna and strode with a tipped cane. In sequence, as one Xindi lowered their hat, another raised it into the air. The canes were circling majestically in their palps, rolling like a finely tuned piece of machinery. As the queue of Xindi marched across the shuttlebay in sequence, Naledi did not know quite what it was they were supposed to be observing. None of their children had ever been born in quite that manner, nor with that level of co-ordination and dexterity.

Just as they had left the hatchery, they filed into a small door next to the turbolift one-by-one. As the last Xindi went through the door, the lights came up to the standard brightness and the music stopped. In fact everything did, the shuttlebay ceased to exist. The black and gold tiling along the walls shimmered into existence. Each officer’s pips returned to normal, and Naledi had no idea how to proceed with the image of what they’d just witnessed burned into their mind.

 

DeVeau: Well…

 

Ensign turned Commander DeVeau turned towards former Captain Naledi and former first officer Tito.

 

DeVeau: That was…different. 

Tito: Response

 

Suddenly, it all made sense to Naledi. This programme wasn’t real. Well, they already knew it wasn’t real, but now with that… ensemble, it had fully sunk in. Maybe this programme wasn’t designed to test how well Naledi performed as Captain. If that was ever in question, they would have never made it to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Perhaps it was designed to observe and evaluate how they dealt with the unexpected. Nothing the other Xindi crew did made much sense, the aristocratic Xindi, followed up by the line-dancing babies.

The programme was supposed to be weird? Right?

Maybe, if that’s how it was always meant to be… Maybe there could be a real Captain Naledi one day, in the future.

 

END of Mini-Mission 2 for Naledi

 

Lieutenant Commander Naledi

Director of Strategic Operations

USS Thor (NCC-85852)

R240107AS3