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Star Trek: Ingenuity - Episode 1: Constant Stars (Prologue + Chapter 1)

Welcome to a preview of Star Trek: Ingenuity, my first OC Star Trek fic! My goal was to create a Star Trek fic focusing primarily on queer characters that explores themes the show missed and revisit some worlds and species the show has not had the opportunity to explore. I’ve been drafting the first “episode” in what I hope to be a series for about six months but I’m finally ready to release the first part. I’ll be posting these to Ao3 as well (and will update this post with a link) but I’m still waiting on my invite...

In 2386, Terik “Eric” Verity, an accomplished Human/Vulcan linguist, and Seadken “Ken” Zed, a skilled Betazoid computer specialist, are called back to Starfleet to confront an emergency on a Federation world few outsiders have visited. This capable couple is given a brand new ship, the Ingenuity, by their old CO, Admiral Agu. The initially apprehensive Verity finds himself revived by an unforeseen mystery on the isolated planet. He must confront his insecurities, family and past to find the strength to move forward, but, with a staff from all over the Federation and his husband and XO at his side, the slapdash crew of the Ingenuity must dig deep and work together to unveil a plot that stinks of coppery blood...

Prologue

The dank caves of the brood caves echoed unevenly as the broodmaster’s claws clicked against the stone floors. The insectoid had been pulled out from their rest period early by the night shift carers on reports that something strange had been found on a recently laid clutch. These irregularities were not uncommon, but it was uncommon to be called up in the middle of the night to attend to such an issue. The broodmaster turned a corner to find the night carers huddled about a sizable sack of eggs sagging down the wall. With an angered click, the night carers scattered, revealing the state of the clutch.

The eggs had fallen from the wall. The hatchlings that managed to escape the weight of the clutch collapsing on top itself struggled on the ground, wheezing and flittering, on the brink of death. The broodmaster was shocked. They knelt to try to help a hatchling as it writhed on the ground, trying to clean it of the embryonic fluids to help it to respirate. However, it was no use - after a few moments, the hatchling became still. Only moments later did the rest of the clutch follow suit. The remaining eggs fell to the ground as the clutch collapsed, the bodies of hatchlings and half-formed larva now littering the floor. The broodmaster shuffled back as the wave of infant bodies and slime advanced, stumbling and slipping on the fluids. Another angry series of clicks summoned the night carers again, who helped the broodmaster to their feet.

The broodmaster stood and watched, stunned as the night carers scrambled to begin cleaning up the horrific sight, many cringing as they collected the bodies of the dead hatchlings. Some flitted about busily, trying to triage the remaining eggs, but the clutch was doomed - the gold glow that shone from the thin membranes was fading one by one as the eggs melted onto the stone floor. The broodmaster could no longer stand the sight. They took off deeper into the caves to find a quiet spot to contemplate next steps.

The broodmaster found an ideal place to assess the situation away from the frantic, morbid sight - the main brood chamber. The ceiling stretched meters and meters into the air, with eggs hanging down on pillars of web and slime, the only light supplied by the eggs’ subtle glow. But, upon casting eyes on the scene, it was like they had never seen it before. The glow of the brood was much fainter - a muddy gray instead of the golden yellow. It only took moments to find the cause. Eggs, suddenly unviable, falling from every pillar, piled on the cave floor, dead and unmoving. The broodmaster chitters echoed through the cavern as they recoiled in horror, their worst nightmare coming true.

The broodmaster had only a few moments to absorb this discovery, however, as a carer soon came up from behind, panic evident in their rapid and uneven clicks. The carer dragged them both back to the main passage to find another terrible scene. A fellow carer was curled up on the rough floor, compound eyes bulging and body straining as they wheezed and gagged. The dying Insectoid was slick with greenish blood, coughing it up from between their mandibles. The other carer identified them as one of the ones on watch a few days prior, their shiftmate.

As the carer writhed on the ground, the broodmaster leaned down to try to help their dying comrade, but another convulsion caused them to recoil instinctively. As they lurched back, a glint caught one of their eyes. A slight irregular line, only visible against the coppery blood. A single black hair was lodged in the Insectoid’s wing, only released as the carer gasped for air. The broodmaster gingerly plucked the fiber out, examining it closely. Whatever this was, only one thing was clear - this didn’t come from a Xindi.

Chapter 1

The sunrise on Alpha Centauri IV was like nothing else in the quadrant. The morning is heralded first by the rise of the yellowish orb of the first sun breaking the horizon, only just flooding out the night sky, filling the horizon with a dim, murky glow, lighting the night with a subtle shade of blue. As the distant sun begins its journey to the sky’s center, the navy sky turns from a warm blue to a golden hue, the rays from Centauri A peaking over the mountaintops as Centauri B, bathing the landscape in yellows brighter than a Vulcan citron. Eric Verity knew this scene well, having made a habit of hiking the 30 minutes just before dawn, taking the brush-filled path from his small cabin. The lookout faced the shore of the largest continent, the most idyllic spot on the hilly island he had called home for the past two years. He found this spot not long after he and his husband settled on the planet. He had sought out an isolated place to practice the meditation he had resisted for so long, but he had long since abandoned any attempts. Instead, he preferred to watch the suns reflect off the quiet strait separating the island from the mountainous mainland.

Life was simpler here, away from the problems of the galaxy. His emotions were stable, or at least stabler, and he could find calm at a moment’s notice. This morning, like many mornings, perched on the flat rock on the hilltop, he looked to the stars as they faded behind the suns’ light and pined for his time on sailing among them. He closed his eyes and imagined the hum of the warp engine and whine of the LCARS, and for a brief moment, this nostalgic vision brought him happiness. But it was fleeting. That sense of longing he had only just begun to feel was still haunted by his last mission, the one that grounded him, the image of it throbbing and red in his mind’s eye.

Behind that scene was a distant restlessness, a familiar urge to run to the stars again. He could never stay grounded long. His land legs were always shaky, and the sensation of artificial gravity was one he longed to return to - the man-made perfection, feeling just as it should. He found stability on the decks of a starship, drawn back to their pristine halls and celestial views. But the past pulled in two directions.

His final mission, before the leave of absence narrowly obtained for him and his partner, sowed doubt - in his ability, in his fitness, in his confidence to serve and lead.

Eric.

His own name rang in his head, clear and calm.

Good morning.

Verity took a deep breath, smiling slightly.

Morning, Ken, he thought.

Breakfast in 30 minutes.

Headed back now.

~*~*~

Eric pushed through the door just as the suns began to shine through the windows in earnest. Ken could hear him inhale deeply as he shut the kitchen door and swung around behind him.

“When you said breakfast, you really meant it,” Eric commented with a smile as he sat at his plush stool in front of the long countertop.

“Good timing, it’s just about done,” Ken met his smile briefly as he looked back, his loosely coiffed curls bouncing as he turned back to tend to the eggs, “Coffee’s in the pot.”

The screen caught Eric’s eye as he waited impatiently for his breakfast, pouring himself a coffee mindlessly as he watched the FNN’s daily broadcast. The caster had just moved on to a fluff piece about a Romulan refugee taken in by a Martian family, dressed up to evoke a sense of unity between the displaced Romulan populace and Martian victims.

“Picard’s people are good at PR, I gotta say,” Eric noted offhandedly.

“Yeah,” Ken concurred, coming from the stovetop with two plates in hand, “I’ve noticed an uptick in pro-Romulan stories.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than positive press, especially with all the fallout from him resigning,” Eric stopped midstream as the food entered his sightline. The plate was filled from edge to edge - silver dollar pancakes, fried eggs on toast, bacon and sausage, and, for the suggestion of health, a half of a citron.

“A good old American breakfast!” Eric cheered, “You shouldn’t have.”

“But I did,” Ken joked.

“You know, if we were still on active duty, you’d be reported to Medical for trying to fatten me up like this,” Eric quipped as he wagged his fork, mouth full of pancake.

“I won’t tell if you won’t.”

The two ate in silence as they watched the remainder of the news program. The remaining stories were fairly dry this late into the lineup - Admiral Picard receiving the Crystal Planet Award (“they’re really trying to keep him happy!” Eric interjected), a space weather report focusing on turbulent subspace in the Sigma Draconis sector, a story about a Federation-Klingon summit, and some profile of Captain So-And-So on the USS Whatsitsname doing god knows what. As the anchor signed off, Ken switched off the screen.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Ken asked, picking at his much more sensible breakfast of two pancakes, an egg and the other half of the citron.

“Nothing,” Eric replied, “Same as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before…”

“I’m sure you can do better than that,” Ken replied, “Oh, don’t forget, Dr. Antiax is coming today.”

Eric groaned, “Why can’t we just do a holovisit again?”

“I wanted to meet her,” Ken said, “Even if she’s your therapist it doesn’t mean we can’t treat her like a person. She’ll be here before lunch time.”

“Fiiiine,” Eric complained, getting up from the stool, “I’m gonna go… I dunno, read or something.”

“At least take a shower before she gets here!” Ken called after.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eric dismissed it, walking back out the door.

Ken glanced down, noticing the citron half untouched. He grabbed the half and walked to the window, throwing it open.

“And eat the damn citron!” Ken called again, chucking it at Eric, who, with inhuman reflexes, caught it. He took a messy bite as it sprayed everywhere, winking as he walked away.

~*~*~

Verity set half-dressed on the bed. He could hear the hiss of a distant shuttle approaching. He stalled, shirt in his fist, waiting until the last moment to put it on and go downstairs. It didn’t take long, however, for Ken to catch on.

“Eric!” he called, “She’s here! Get dressed and come down.”

He threw on his shirt, standing as he grumbled. As he trudged down the stairs, he could hear the shuttle landing, the engines whirring as they disengaged. Ken’s muffled greetings barely made it through the sturdy wooden walls of the cottage as he entered the sitting room, deciding to not go to the door and take a seat instead. He stewed silently, massaging the back of his neck gingerly as he waited for Ken to come back in with the doctor.

“Thank you for coming all this way, Doctor,” Ken said as he led Dr. Antiax into the room. Keeping his friendly smile, he shot a glance at Verity as if to say “stand up.” Verity followed the nonverbal order, getting to his feet somewhat sheepishly.

“It’s no trouble,” the Denobulan woman replied in her soft, kindly voice as Ken led her to a plush armchair, “I was planning to be in the system for a conference on Centauri VII, so it felt like a good time to make a house call.”

She made eye contact with Verity, who smiled politely as they both sat.

“I was going to make some Tarkelian tea if I could interest you in some,” Ken offered, headed towards the kitchen.

“That sounds lovely,” she agreed, setting her briefcase aside.

Ken entered the next room, leaving an uncomfortable silence behind.

“It’s so nice to finally meet Ken,” Dr. Antiax remarked after a few moments.

“Uh, yeah, he’s been eager to meet you too,” Verity commented, shifting in his chair a bit.

“I hope none of this is making you too uncomfortable, Eric,” she said, leaning forward a bit.

“No- well, no, I guess I did invite you,” Verity countered, “No reason for it to be awkward.”

“Though if I recall,” Dr. Antiax noted, “it was at Ken’s suggestion.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Verity agreed.

“I sense that you might not want me to be here,” she proposed, words toned with that subtly inquisitive tone therapists wielded like a scalpel.

“No, no, I’m glad you’re here. It’s not that, or you, really. It’s just…” Verity sighed, “I’ve been thinking about what happened on the Dido again.”

“I see,” Dr. Antiax said, sitting back into her chair a bit as she placed her hands on her lap, “It’s been quite a while since we’ve discussed the Dido.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t exactly been top-of-mind lately,” Verity grimaced, “If my mother wasn’t busy with her campaign, I’m sure I wouldn’t be thinking about it at all.”

“What has made you think of it now?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve been thinking about it for a while. After the attack on Mars, I’ve felt like I should do something.”

“I believe we’ve discussed this before,” Dr. Antiax noted, “But before you said you weren’t ready. Has something changed?”

“Maybe? I want to get back out there. I don’t know if I’m ready, but I feel more… normal. More in control. And I want to do something. Living here is nice, but it feels like retirement. I’m too young to retire.”

“Do you want to return to Starfleet?”

Verity didn’t answer immediately, instead rubbing the nape of his neck and looking into the corner as he considered his response.

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“In that case, I may have something that will interest you.”

Dr. Antiax reached into her bag, presenting Verity with a PADD - he instantly recognized it as standard issue Starfleet.

“I understand this is a little unconventional, but Ndidi- rather, Admiral Agu requested I deliver it.”

Unsure of how to respond, Verity took the PADD, just as Ken returned with a tray holding a translucent glass tea set.

“What’s that?” Ken asked, clearly recognizing the providence of the PADD.

“Oh, I have one for you as well,” Dr. Antiax said, pulling out an identical PADD. Ken set the tray on the side table to receive it.

Verity turned it on and recognized the contents immediately - reinstatement papers for Terick Verity and Seadken Zed.

“We’re being called back?” Ken asked, clearly a bit taken aback. Verity noticed Dr. Antiax look a little shocked herself.

“It’s a hell of a way to get called back to service,” Verity remarked, slumping back in his chair.

“I am no expert on Starfleet regulations, but I believe this bends quite a few,” Dr. Antiax remarked.

“How did Agu rope you into this?” Verity asked, trying to hide the suspicion in his voice.

“She and I are longtime friends, as I’m sure you know,” she began, “If I’m not mistaken, she referred you to me.”

Referred is generous, Verity thought, more like insisted.

“Well, she called to chat, as she does, and she asked about you. Of course, I’m bound to not reveal anything from our sessions, but I mentioned I was visiting the system, and she requested I deliver the PADDs. She didn’t tell me the contents and I felt it improper for me to read them - I didn’t expect that though. All she told me was that it was urgent.”

“I wish she had sent us a communiqué or something at least,” Ken remarked, crossing his arms, “She knows how to find us.”

“I asked her why she didn’t call herself, but she said it would be easier to discuss in person.”

“Mysterious,” Ken said, brow furrowing, “Well, the Admiral has always been one for a show.”

Verity sighed, glancing back at the PADD, something catching his eye.

“Wait - this says this is effective in two days. And we’re to report to HQ ASAP.” Verity felt the anxiety bubbling up. Ken came to his side, rubbing his shoulder.

“Well, I’m sorry to be the unwitting bearer of such news,” Dr. Antiax said, “Perhaps I should get going - let you sort this out.”

“No, nonsense,” Ken said, “Stay for lunch at least. I don’t want it to go to waste.”

~*~*~*~

Commander Verity paced the polished floors of Starfleet HQ. The regulation soles of his uniform squeaked as he dug his heels into the tile.

“Eric. Sit.”

“What?”

“You’re pacing. You’re going to ruin your shoes.”

“Huh? Oh, they’re fine, Ken, they can handle it,” Verity dismissed the comment.

“Those shoes are designed to be silent on all surfaces.”

Verity froze in place, grumbling, and took a seat next to his partner.

“Eyes.”

With that singular command, Verity locked eyes. His partner’s voice rang in his head.

You’re spiraling. Center.

Verity took a deep breath, eyes drifting to the wall ahead. I’m here, I’m fine.

Good.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Verity’s arms crossed tightly over his chest. His calm quickly faded.

“Why did Agu call us here? Why now?”

Ken sighed, placing a hand gently on Verity’s back. “If she’s bringing us in this urgently, it must be something important.”

“This uniform is itchy,” Verity squirmed in his seat, tugging at the fabric as if to straighten out nonexistent creases.

“No, it’s not.”

“Maybe not for you,”

“It literally can’t be,”

“Yeah, but-”

“Eric.”

Verity’s squirming intensified. He rolled up the pointed cuffs, a small band of red still peaking through the black.

Eric.

“What?!”

You can’t go in to see Agu this riled up.

“I know, I know,” Verity rubbed his temples with his palms, grinding the point of his ears into his short, dark hair. His partner seized his wrists, his touch gentle but firm, and drew Verity’s arms to his lap.

Look at me.

They locked eyes again. Verity’s nerves subsided as he stared into his partner’s deep black pupils. Their foreheads touched.

“I’m sure Agu has a good reason for calling us up. She’s the one who got us the leave in the first place and kept the brass off our backs in spite of everything. We can trust her.”

“And I do.”

“I know you do. That’s why we have no reason to get worked up. She’ll look out for us.”

Verity sighed. He took two deep breaths, eyes closed, and focused. The fog of mania began to clear.

“Commander?”

Verity nearly leapt out of his seat. A man stood in front of him, yellow shoulders clashing against his pale purplish skin. “Oh, sorry if I startled you. The Admiral is ready for you and Lieutenant Commander Zed.”

Zed rose to his feet, hand on Verity’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. We’ll be there momentarily.”

Nodding, the Lieutenant turned the corner, leaving them alone again.

“That was embarrassing,” Verity remarked, gritting his teeth slightly, “Alright, let’s put me out of my misery.”

~*~*~

“Eric, Ken, thank you for coming on such short notice. Sorry for having to put you back into uniform so suddenly.” Admiral Agu stood from her desk, arms extended. Verity stood stock still, soldierly.

Zed matched the Admiral’s welcoming gesture, locking arms in a familiar embrace, smiling slightly as he looked down on her short but well-built stature. “It’s good to be back, to be honest.”

Zed’s gaze fell to Verity, who instinctively loosened up, going from attention to at ease. The Admiral turned to the commander, reaching out and smiling softly.

“Come now, Eric, we’re family here. I may be your superior officer, but I’ll always be your friend first.”

Verity dropped his military poise, halfheartedly returning the gesture.

“Sit, sit,” Agu motioned them to seats in front of her desk as she returned behind it, choosing to stand over her own chair, resting gently on its head.

“I have to say, we were both surprised to hear from you,” Zed led as he sat back in the low chair, crossing his legs but maintaining a sharp posture, “And special delivery via therapist is a new one.”

Agu chuckled, “Sorry, I saw my opportunity and I took it.”

Verity slumped down next to him, his body betraying his nerves as he sat on the edge, elbows on his knees.

“Why all the mystery? Are we being court martialed? Were we out of the service too long?”

“No, nothing like that. They’d let you stay on leave for a thousand years if they knew what was good for them.”

Zed chuckled lightly, but Verity was yet to be satisfied.

“I wouldn’t have called you in, but I think you’re the only ones I can trust with the job.”

Verity’s single-minded suspicions were quickly replaced with a parade of theoreticals, the next worse than the last.

“What can we do?”

“I think what Eric means is, how can we help?”

Agu handed the pair PADDs from her desk. An image of an insectoid with large compound eyes and distinctive ridges meeting between them occupied a large portion of the screen. The words “Xindi Virus Type I-9” headlined the report.

“We received a priority-one message from the head of the Xindi Medical Consortium.”

“The Xindi?” Verity perked up at the mention of this enigmatic Federation world. It was rare to hear its name outside of history lectures.

“The Insectoids are undergoing an unprecedented crisis. A disease is rapidly spreading through their population and has already killed thousands.”

“Seems like a rather low death toll for Insectoids,” Verity interjects, “My xenobiology is rusty, but isn’t their population turnover the highest in the Federation?”

“They must be truly desperate if they’re reaching out to Starfleet. I don’t think there’s been anything beyond a small embassy on New Xindus since they joined,” Zed adds.

The Admiral turns to the screen behind her, bringing up an image of a long hall. Tangles of what resembles netting dangle from the ceiling, reaching the floor. The nets hold orbs, some a warm gold, but many a sickly gray and covered in lesions. On the floor, obscured by the dangling threads, are small insectoid bodies, curled up and facing towards the ceiling.

“The Xindi Council reports that the infection is not just killing adults, but their nymphs as well, even before they hatch.”

Zed’s posture stiffened as Verity leaned forward, turning his PADD over in his hands.

“Starfleet has always maintained a limited presence in the sector due to the proximity to Romulan space, and since the Romulan star has begun to expand, the region has become even more unstable. Starbase 15 is near enough to provide support, but they’re already stretched thin managing the sector as it is, being on the edge of the Neutral Zone.”

“And with the evacuation still underway, it must be hard to keep up,” Verity speculates.

“The head of the Xindi Council is well-known for being less friendly towards the Federation than his predecessors. The council is already hesitant to allow a swarm of Starfleet to descend on the planet after all these years as it is, and with his influence, if we don’t present a complete solution, we might as well send nothing at all.”

“What about a hospital ship?” Zed asks, “Is there an Olympic-class that can take charge?”

“There are some medical ships in the sector, but they have their hands full with Romulan refugees. The USS Salk is the closest Olympic to the system and is on its way, but they’re not designed for high warp. It’ll be a while before they can get boots on the ground and hyposprays in necks.”

“We’re not doctors,” Verity began, Zed shrugging with a bit of a smirk, “Ok, medical doctors. How are a linguist and AI expert going to help?”

Agu begins to pace slowly as she elaborates, “Well, the biggest barrier has been communication. While there are medical teams working on treatments, the disease is spreading fast and mutating rapidly. But it’s been difficult for them to extract much information from the population, especially those deep within Insectoid territory,” the Admiral stops in her tracks, locking eyes with Verity, one eyebrow raised, “I wonder, how much do you know about Xindi languages, Commander?”

“Only what I’ve read from the records, but they’re basically 200 years out of date. And -” Verity smiles with understanding, pointing at the Admiral as if she just told an especially clever joke, “Oh, I get it.”

Zed furrowed his brow. “Fill me in.”

Verity got to his feet and began to pace again, like the Admiral only much quicker. “The language of the Xindi-Insectoids is notoriously complex. Due to their generational turnover rate, their language diversifies and changes more rapidly than nearly any other language in the galaxy, to our knowledge.”

“What was it Sato said back then? They had sixty-seven dialects?” the Admiral added.

“And that was in 2154,” he agrees, pointing to her as if to confirm, “when the Xindi were still largely living on cramped ships and narrow caves. Who knows how many there are now. Even if there was just one, their language is so complex and unlike humanoid or cetacean language that the standard UT would struggle to keep up even under the best of circumstances. Hell, in the negotiations with the Council, Sato mostly just used her own prowess to make sense of any of it. Her linguacode was hardly able to give her a baseline.”

“So you see our problem. The crews already there have tried their best to work with interpreters, but the Xindi can’t spare enough and even those they have can’t decipher some of the dialects of the inner Insectoid provinces.”

“The Insectoids aren’t exactly famous for their patience either,” Zed notes, “I’m sure it’s been even harder with them when slowed down by interpreters.”

“All of this is to say,” the Admiral continues, leaning forward on her chair, “Starfleet is in need of a language expert and someone who can update the UT accordingly to account for the complexities of the Insectoid language. You two are the only ones with the qualifications.”

“My new algorithms could use some field testing,” Zed turns to Verity, who has stopped in front of the broad window overlooking the bay, lost in thought, “But only if you’re up to it.”

Verity ignored that final condition. Zed frowned.

“How are we going to get there? New Xindus isn’t exactly next door.”

“I’m glad you asked. I have a surprise for you.”

~*~*~

The San Francisco Fleetyards were buzzing with their usual activity as Starfleet personnel of all stripes boarded and disembarked their shuttles and maintenance teams swarmed about to attend to repairs. But today, the air felt electric, swimming with nervous energies and the warmth of anticipation. Admiral Agu, taking her long, graceful strides, parted the crowds as she led the pair through the halls of the orbital office complex, beelining for a far point overlooking the drydocks.

“See that ship right there?” She pointed out the massive viewport to a skeletal dock floating just on the edge of a cluster, a bit more compact than its neighbors.

Verity squints against the light while Zed presses his face against the glass, cupping his eyes.

“Looks sort of like an Intrepid,” Zed comments, “I’d recognize that saucer shape anywhere.”

“The nacelles are way too high. They’re basically Sovereign-style. She seems long too.”

“And the secondary hull - it can’t be more than three decks high!”

“Good eyes, gentlemen - She’s an Intrepid kitbash, one of the first Sojourner-class to leave drydock. These ladies are built for speed.”

Verity chuckles - “Yeah, I can tell. She’s the thinnest starship I think I’ve ever seen.”

“Her low profile reduces subspace drag substantially. She can maintain a cruising speed of 9.6 without breaking a sweat.”

Verity whistled.

“Quite the mare,” Zed agreed.

“The Engineering Corps tells me this is the future of starship design. I managed to snag the last one of her line by calling in a few favors,” Agu proudly reports, hands on her hips.

“You’ve got the entirety of Starfleet wrapped around your finger, Admiral,” Verity beams, patting his mentor on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t say that,” the Admiral denies, her wry smile matching Verity’s.

“What’s her name?” Verity asked, an eyebrow raised.

“The USS Ingenuity NCC-81080.”

“Oh after the Mars rovers!” Zed’s excitement turned to sadness as he realized the likely fate of the ancient explorers, “I guess it’s a fitting memorial.”

“It was a recent name change. The class was in development prior to the attack on Mars, but the designers wanted to dedicate the class to their fallen colleagues at Utopia Planitia, so it picked up the name of the old rovers.” Agu explains.

“Ingenuity was a space helicopter, actually,” Verity corrects, garnering a glare from Zed as he turns to the Admiral.

“Anyway... who’ll be commanding the little racehorse?”

“That’s the surprise.”

~*~*~

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Ken assured his partner, rubbing at a particularly tight knot in his shoulder as he fidgeted with his sleeves again.

“It’s not that I don’t want to do it,” Eric’s gaze was fixed on the floor of the runabout.

“We need to, I know - but if you’re not ready for commanding the Ingenuity, I’m sure Agu can arrange a ship to get us there.”

“No, it’s not that either,” Eric grumbled again.

“If you’re concerned about our relationship becoming an issue-”

“No, well, I mean, yeah, that is part of it I guess. And it just makes this all the more precarious, everyone questioning our judgment and commitment and whatever. But I-”

Eric groaned, pulsing with nervous frustration. He jumped to his feet and plodded to the other side of the tiny craft. Eric rubbed the nape of his neck, the tiny hairs audibly scratching his palm, and glanced down over his shoulder. Ken recognized the signal immediately.

I can command a starship. This is what I’ve been trained for. I am a Starfleet commander. And Agu wouldn’t ask me if she didn’t know I could. She’s set me up for this - us up for this. She got us the leave and all these accommodations because she knows this is where we needed to be and how we needed to get there. It’s just-

It won’t happen. Ken stood, embracing his partner from behind, resting his head between Eric’s firm shoulders. That’s why I’m here, to support you. I trust Agu’s judgment, and I trust yours, too. But even if you are capable like I know you are, you should only do this if you’re ready.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ken noticed the crewman in the pilot seat staring at them through the reflection in the glass. The crewman averted her eyes the moment she was found out.

I’ll do it, Eric affirmed, his voice clear in Ken’s mind, back straightening as he looked ahead, as long as you’re at my side, I’ll do it. Despite his resolve, Ken could sense Eric stuffing down his anxiety and fear. Eric rarely resorted to the Vulcan discipline he so often fought against, but Ken knew when he pulled from that deep well of Vulcan training that sat in the recesses of his mind. But unlike his brethren, Ken noticed his mood shift immediately, replaced by the nervous excitement from before.

“Good,” Ken spoke aloud, severing the link as he kissed the back of his neck lightly, not wanting for Eric to sense his worry.

“Sirs, we’ve arrived,” the crewman reports stiffly, staring straight ahead at the shuttlebay wall.

“Thank you, crewman,” Ken replied, straightening his blue striped cuffs, “Let’s go meet our new baby.”

#star trek #fanfiction #oc #queer fanfiction #star trek fic #star trek enterprise #enterprise #tng #tos #tas #ld #picard #chapters #constant stars #ao3 #PG13 #probably

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