Although the 'proper' Klingons (brow ridges, fangs, hair etc) didn't actually appear until well after ST:TOS had finished, I've 'imported' them into the story, since they're now a fixture in the Star Trek universe....
Transposition
Part One
Generally speaking, humans, on regaining consciousness after a violent or explosive event, ask one of two questions. True to form Sulu, as his eyelids fluttered open, mumbled one of them.
"Wh... what happened?"
"That, Mister," snapped a voice beside him, "is what we want you to tell us."
Blurrily, the helmsman managed to make out a tight-lipped and angry Kirk standing to the left of the bed while Doctor McCoy hovered at the right. The captain's fists were planted firmly on his hips: McCoy glanced up at him.
"Don't be too hard on the boy. He's gonna feel rough for a while."
'Rough' didn't really cover it: Sulu felt rather as though he'd been flattened by a squad of tap-dancing sumo wrestlers. He groaned, but if he'd been hoping to elicit a little sympathy, he was disappointed.
"What were you doing down there? And where's Chekov?"
Sulu suddenly became more alert. He stared at his captain, his heart sinking.
"What d'you mean, sir? He was with me. He must still be down there!" He frowned as Kirk shook his head.
"There's no sign of him. Tricorders can't pick him up." Kirk reached forward to grip the helmsman's arm. "Did he go through the portal?"
Sulu frowned to himself, trying desperately to remember those last few seconds before his world had exploded - then shook his head.
"No sir. He was behind me the whole time. I'm sure he was..."
Kirk nodded grimly and gazed at McCoy.
"Looks like Spock was right."
The doctor nodded, muttering under his breath, "wish that damn Vulcan would be wrong once in a while... "
Kirk turned back to Sulu, who was still disorientated and having trouble making sense of what was happening.
"What's the penalty for breach of Standing Order 153 (Access to the Guardian of Forever, (restricted))?"
Sulu's heart sunk even further.
"Confinement to the brig, sir. And court martial at the nearest starbase." He swallowed nervously. "Uh, sir? Why aren't I? In the brig I mean. Sir."
"Because, Mr Sulu," Kirk rapped out, "there's something we want you to see first. Chekov wasn't with you when we found you - but someone else was."
The violence of the energy/time displacement interaction had shaken the Enterprise like a rat in a sehlat's jaws, but apart from some minor injuries had caused no real damage. (It had also flung the huge lenticular starship several light years off its course, but since the Enterprise and research team personnel were ignorant of the vessel's existence this had no relevant repercussions, except to save the humans - and Vulcan - a lot of pain and possible enslavement by the motley gang inside it...)
As the bridge crew pulled themselves together and back up into their seats, Kirk was already barking orders to find out what the hell had happened: minutes later he was frowning at the reports coming in from various parts of the ship. But it was Spock's cool, unemotional voice that caused him most alarm.
"The epicentre of the effect appears to be below us, 1.321 metres from the Guardian."
"Has the Guardian been damaged?"
It was a reasonable question, the first officer thought to himself, running data through his computer. After all, they didn't know whether the Guardian could be damaged or not.
"Negative. However, I'm picking up human life-signs..." he frowned and peered a little more closely at the readout. "And something else."
"Could you be a little more specific, Mr Spock."
"The readings indicate a living being, 2.389 metres tall, mass 588.2 pounds, humanoid - but not human." He glanced up, the slightest frown on his otherwise impassive face. "Both forms appear to be unmoving and are probably unconscious. Nevertheless, I would urge caution."
Kirk pulled himself out of the command chair and headed decisively for the lift.
"Mr Spock, you have the con. Dr McCoy, Mr Kyaku-Hoshi, get yourselves and your teams to the transporter room. Mr Chekov, take over from Mr Spock." He paused in mid-stride, frowning around the bridge. "Where's Mr Chekov?"
Seconds ahead of her captain, Uhura had already tried contacting him. She swung to face Kirk.
"There's no answer, sir."
"His shift started five minutes ago!"
Uhura frowned as more calls came into her communications station.
"There's no sign of him anywhere on board, sir. Perhaps he was hurt, knocked out when that - explosion hit us."
Kirk scowled. "Organise a search team. I want him found."
"Yes sir."
Spock frowned after the captain as the lift door hissed shut. It never ceased to worry - no, not worry, he was Vulcan, he did not worry - concern him that the captain insisted on heading these missions in person. Kirk's insistence that he wouldn't ask any of his crew to do something he himself wasn't prepared to do notwithstanding, it really was a particularly foolhardy thing to do. The crew was, to some extent, replaceable: Captain Kirk was not.
McCoy and Christine Chapel, and Kyaku-Hoshi and a couple of his security team, were already assembled in the transporter room when Kirk arrived. As was usual when the captain required transporting anywhere, Scott was at the controls.
"Ye'll take care, sir."
Kirk smiled. "Of course, Scotty. Look after my ship."
The chief engineer's craggy face shimmered as the transporter took effect, and Kirk heard "Aye sir." faintly as his constituent atoms were torn apart....
...to be reconstituted, miles below, at the entrance to the research team's onworld base. Kirk shivered - once again he'd forgotten to pick up an environmental jacket. McCoy wordlessly handed him a spare.
"Captain Kirk!"
The team's leader, Professor Hardy, held out a hand. Kirk shook it.
"Any injuries? Any damage?"
"Fortunately, no."
"Good." He swung round and headed briskly for the Guardian, the rest of his team and Hardy following at a smart trot. Some metres from the portal he stopped, staring.
One of the figures on the ground was Sulu. Given that fact, the other figure should, logically, be Chekov...
"What the hell is that!?" Framson, one of Kyaku-Hoshi's team, was staring open-mouthed at what appeared to be a mound of hair. A very large mound of hair. McCoy had briefly checked Sulu, confirming that he was alive and not in any immediate danger, and was already running a medical tricorder over the - whatever it was, and frowning at the results.
"It's Spock's humanoid, all right. No obvious physical damage, as far as I can tell." He reached into the mane, grabbed what he hoped was a shoulder and heaved - to no avail. He glared up at the security team.
"Don't just stand there! Give me a hand. Or two."
Between them they managed to roll the heavy figure over onto its back. Kyaku-Hoshi whistled, eyebrows raised.
"I'd like to know what work-out programme he uses!"
Kirk privately agreed. The man - they'd assume it was male until proven otherwise: he looked male (although remembering a certain party where he'd spent some time getting to know a gorgeous willowy blonde creature, only to find out later, in bed, that all appearances to the contrary 'she' was actually a 'he' - it had taken Kirk months to live that one down!) - was definitely... big. Powerful. Muscular. He dragged his attention away and glanced at McCoy, who was still frowning at the readings his tricorder was giving.
"Any idea..."
Without warning the man's eyes shot open. He raised one large hand, the palm glowing - and Kyaku-Hoshi was blasted into atoms.
"What the..!"
The rest of the security team leapt onto the struggling figure, entirely failing to prevent his pulling himself upright. For a second or two it looked as though the whole group, captain included, would go the way of the security chief - then the big man collapsed as McCoy pressed a hypo to one shoulder. There was a loud 'thud' as the alien hit the ground.
"Impressive, as Spock would probably say." The doctor checked his tricorder. "Vital signs lowered, but still within safety margins. For all the life-forms I know, anyway." He looked up at Kirk. "Let's get him back up to the ship."
"Is that safe?"
"Well we can't leave him here! I can keep him under for the time being."
A little dubious, Kirk nodded and lifted the still-unconscious Sulu into his arms, flicking open his communicator.
"Seven to beam up, Mr Scott. Have a medical team standing by: we'll need two gurneys." He eyed the big figure hanging limply between the two remaining security officers, who seemed to be crumpling under the weight. "Make sure one of them's reinforced..."
Back on the Enterprise things were much as Kirk had left them. Uhura had confirmed that Chekov was definitely missing. Spock had made his way, with some alacrity, to sickbay at McCoy's request. It took Kirk some time to complete his report and contact Star Fleet regarding Kyaku-Hoshi (to his relief the officer he spoke to volunteered to break the news to the security chief's family, rather than insisting Kirk do it), but he was finally able to get down to sickbay himself.
Their 'guest' was supine on an examination table, still unconscious. McCoy had removed the brown metallic armour and wristguards he'd been wearing: underneath was a very brief, dark blue bodysuit. A very tight-fitting bodysuit. A bodysuit that was very - revealing... As McCoy had said, impressive.
Kirk forced down a brief surge of jealousy and pulled his focus outwards. The doctor had fastened restraints around their captive's wrists - he was too tall for the ankle restraints to be of any use - although that was more to comply with regs than anything else: he didn't expect them to actually work should the alien come to. Christine Chapel stood at the big man's head, her eyes on the monitor in her hand. And, Kirk noticed with a private, somewhat pained smile, stroking absently at the heavy mane spilling over the table and cascading onto the floor.
"So, what is he? Some sort of Klingon?"
McCoy, running a feinberger over the broad, muscular chest, answered without looking up.
"No brow ridges. Too pale. Physiology's all wrong."
"I've never seen a Klingon with this much hair, either."
"Or a tail."
Kirk stared at him, eyebrows raised. "What?"
McCoy glanced up, eyes twinkling.
"Never seen a Klingon with a tail, either."
He lifted the long, heavy appendage from where it lay beside its owner. Kirk took it into his hand, running his fingers into the surprisingly soft, thick fur. The big man twitched slightly and moaned, and Kirk quickly dropped the tail, watching fascinated as it snaked against its owner's abdomen before wrapping snugly around his waist.
"Some kind of ape?"
"That'd be my best guess. DNA's not that far off human. He's from a high gravity world though - that accounts for some of this ridiculously over-developed musculature."
From the corner of his eye Kirk saw Christine Chapel open her mouth as if to protest, then obviously think better of it. Her reaction wasn't lost on McCoy either.
"Nurse Chapel, please check on Sulu. I want to know if he shows any signs of regaining consciousness yet."
"Yes doctor." Chapel reluctantly went through into the recovery room. McCoy frowned at Kirk.
" I can't keep giving him atropozine - it's only supposed to be used for major surgical procedures and only for a short space of time. It causes neurological damage if taken over extended periods, in humans at least, and he's close enough to human that it'll have the same effect. But I can't just let him wake up. Somehow he generates massive amounts of energy within his body, energy that he can direct and use as a weapon - that's what killed Kyaku-Hoshi. I've got Spock working on something we can use to stop him atomising anyone else. Once we know we can control that, it should be safe to stop the drugs. Then you can ask him anything you want."
Kirk nodded. "How long?"
"That depends on Spock..."
"It didn't take him long." McCoy finished. "And now we want you to take a look at our guest."
Sulu shook his head. "Do you mean this - creature - somehow replaced Chekov?"
"Spock has a fancy explanation for it, something to do with time and space displacements and relative mass. Didn't make any sense to me - I'm a doctor not a physicist."
Sulu sank his head into his hands. Chekov...
He sighed. "So who is he? Where's he from?"
"We don't know. The universal translator doesn't recognise his language."
"WHAT!?"
McCoy grinned. "I know. Surprised us too. Just goes to show technology ain't infallible!"
Kirk was grim. "I want you to see if anything about him is familiar to you. There's a remote possibility that he was visible in the portal just before the event. If so, he and Chekov may have switched places, and we might be able to reverse the exchange."
"I was recording everything. Surely my tricorder..."
The captain shook his head. "Destroyed. Short-circuited and burned out."
Sulu hauled himself unsteadily off the bed, pulled on a uniform, and followed the captain out of sickbay.
The captive sat on a bed, shoulders slumped, hands hanging between his knees, head bowed. Sulu regarded him narrowly from behind the force-field that enclosed him (they'd put him in an ordinary cell to start with: he'd simply punched his way through the six inch thick steel, and McCoy had had to sedate him again while they prepared the high-security area). Heavy metal bands around his wrists neutralised his extraordinary physical abilities and sapped his strength to some degree: Spock had excelled himself, and was already exploring other applications for the device. The big man looked - caged.
Sulu shook himself. Of course he did - he was! He was incredibly dangerous. It was safer for everyone if he was kept confined.
But somehow... The helmsman sighed, imagining how he'd feel if he'd been flung out of his normal universe into a place where he couldn't understand a word anyone said, amongst pygmies who drugged him, imprisoned him, and took away his powers.
He'd hate it. He'd do anything in his power to escape.
He coughed gently, smiling as harmlessly as he could as the big man's head jerked up.
"Hello."
Large, wide eyes under heavy brows. A night hunter, perhaps? The face couldn't be called handsome, exactly - not as humans would describe it, anyway - but it was striking. Not unattractive, by any means. High cheekbones, small nose and mouth, high, wide forehead, the incredible mane of hair flowing back from a deep widow's peak.
There was desperation in those black eyes.
"Hello there."
The answer was a muttered flood of slightly snarled syllables. Sulu listened closely, frowning. Did the language really sound, very vaguely, familiar or was he imagining it?
"...k'tbree....hirtskan..."
No, he wasn't imagining it! The language was a form of Old Japanese - a debased form, admittedly, but he should be able to figure it out. If his nihongo wasn't too rusty...
"Konnichi wa."
Well, it got a reaction. The big man frowned and inclined his head, listening. The helmsman gestured to himself.
"Sulu to moshimasu. O-namae wa nan to osshaimas' ka?"
After a moment the frown cleared, and the man pulled himself a little more upright.
"Raditts'. Raditts' t' moshmas'."
"Hajimemashite, Raditts'-san."
Raditts' grunted, the sound expressing ironic disbelief. His excitement mounting, Sulu tried again.
"Kiringon-jin des' ka?"
Raditts' frowned. "Kiringon-jin? Ee - Saiya-jin des'."
Sulu beamed. Beside him, Kirk's eyes were gleaming.
"You understand each other?"
"Kinda. Enough to communicate, anyway. His name's Radittz, and he's a Saiyan."
"I'll have Spock run the term 'Saiyan' through the computer." The captain slapped the helmsman on the shoulder. "As for you, teach him to speak Standard and we'll forget the court martial."
© 2001 (September) Joules Taylor Part Two
Note: Kyaku is the Japanese for Guest, Hoshi is the Japanese for Star. And we all know what happens to guest stars in ST:TOS....
