Guess who’s arrived

Posted on Fri Aug 28th, 2026 @ 2:57pm by Chief Petty Officer Kiera Targaryen & Commodore Wilkan Targaryen & Enterprise Enlisted NPC

3,317 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Short Treks
Location: U.S.S. Enterprise
Timeline: 2439-10-10, 09:45

Having chatted with Rio before refreshing herself in her quarters, Kiera had changed into a fresh uniform before picking up the PADD with her orders. It was time to head to see her uncle, to say she was excited at seeing him again was an understatement. As a child he had always been the one she loved to see at family gatherings, that had never changed though they hadn’t seen each other in quite some time.

Making her way to the bridge, Kiera approached the Ready Room door pausing to press the chime and await admittance.

The quiet hum of the corridor near the Ready Room was broken by the sharp chime, and Yeoman Xegn looked up instantly from her desk. Standing tall with her long, elegant Kelpien gait, the female Petty Officer smoothed her uniform tunic as she stepped out to address the visitor. Her wide, dark eyes held a calm, observant warmth, and her threat ganglia remained entirely flat and serene.

"May I help you?" Xegn asked, her voice soft, melodic, and precise as she offered a polite, professional nod. "If you are looking for Commodore Targaryen, he is currently away from his office attending to ship business."

She gestured politely toward the LCARS terminal on her desk, holding a PADD tucked under her arm. "I am Petty Officer Xegn, the Commodore's Yeoman. If you are reporting for duty or need your orders logged into the ship's roster, I can certainly assist you with that while we wait for the Commodore to return?"

“That would be fine” Kiera smiled handing over her PaDD. “My orders. I would like to see the Commodore if possible while I’m here.”

Petty Officer Xegn accepted the PADD with a polite, measured bow of her head, her long fingers tapping lightly against the casing as she loaded the data into her terminal. Her wide, dark eyes scanned the official transfer directives, her expression flickering with a momentary flash of subtle surprise as the service record cleared and the familiar surname registered.

"Everything is in order," Xegn said, her melodic voice carrying a reassuring, professional warmth. "Your assignment to the Enterprise is officially logged into the ship's roster, and your security clearances are updated." She handed the PADD back to Kiera, her tall posture relaxing slightly as she gestured toward the main corridor. Her threat ganglia remained completely flat and serene.

"Regarding Commodore Targaryen... he is currently off the Bridge. Ship's logs indicate he has reserved Holodeck 2 for a scheduled interval," Xegn explained gently, offering a small, polite smile. "Since your arrival was not listed on his schedule, I doubt he is expecting you. If you wish to catch him before his next shift, Holodeck 2 would be your best destination."

“Thank you” Kiera smiled before she turned and headed off again. She certainly hoped her uncle wouldn’t mind her dropping in on his holodeck time, she wondered just what program he’d be running. A little while later having quickly popped into her quarters enroute she paused outside the holodeck, taking a deep breath she walked in.

The empty city street lay dead and still beneath the afternoon sun. A few cars and trucks were parked at odd angles, abandoned where they had last rolled to a stop.

Five years had passed since the dead first walked.

A strong wind howled through the concrete canyons, sending loose trash fluttering down the avenues. Out from the shadows, a large alligator slithered into view, pausing to scan its quiet surroundings.

More of the reptiles drifted through the deserted thoroughfares, claiming the Florida urban wasteland as their own in 1987. They knocked over garbage cans and jostled the frozen mannequins inside a department store window. One heavy gator crawled through the shattered glass doors of an abandoned bank, dragging loose paper bills beneath its tail as the gusting wind scattered money into the gutter.

Nearby, a pair of gators scrambled over the hood of a rusted '79 Cadillac. Slumped over the steering wheel sat a female skeleton. In the back seat, small infant bones remained strapped into a child's safety seat. One of the creatures thumped its heavy tail maddeningly against the windshield.

Down on the pavement, the sound of sluggish, dragging footsteps echoed through the quiet. A dark shadow stretched across the asphalt, lengthening into the shape of a man.

The blinding glare of the afternoon sun dominated the sky. Lurching forward from the heat haze, a solitary figure blocked out the fiery ball overhead, bringing its features into sharp focus. Its dead eyes were clouded and unblinking, its skin a sickening blue-grey. A gaping, blackened wound tore away a large portion of its jaw... a walking corpse in the light of day.

Across the city, the walking dead now populated the avenues. In every shape, size, and state of decay, they wandered without purpose - drifting through the streets, pushing into open doorways, and roaming through empty buildings. The city belonged to them; humanity was gone.

High above a main thoroughfare, a long-dead corpse dangled from a frayed noose tied to the corner of a tall building. It had been picked clean down to the bone by scavenger birds and rats. A hurriedly scrawled sign flapped against its ribcage: TAKE ME, LORD! I LOVE YOU!

Without warning, the rope snapped. The skeletal remains dropped like a stone, hitting the pavement below with a brutal crack. Bones shattered across the street like brittle clay as the wind snatched the sign, carrying it along the ground.

The paper sign tumbled across the grass of a harbor park toward the water, where a few derelict boats swayed against their moorings in the rising wind.

Slowly, the low, chugging thrum of an engine echoed across the water.

An old, sea-worn fishing boat glided into the marina. On deck stood three men and two women, dressed like weary guerrillas. Unshaven, caked in sweat and grime, and heavily armed, their sunken eyes stared up at the silent skyline in quiet despair.

"Another dead place," Tony muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I tol' you. Let's get out to the islands."

"The radio signals were coming from this area," Miguel replied, staring blankly at the tower blocks.

"Not from the city," Tony pressed. "In every city it's the same. Dead. Let's get out to the barrier islands. If there are survivors sending those signals, that's where we'll find them."

Miguel's gaze drifted over the silent buildings, the sight of the dead metropolis nudging him a fraction closer to the edge. He blinked, forcing himself back to the present.

"Plenty of time for the islands," Miguel said softly. "The rest of our... life... on the islands, I think. But we gotta see if there are others here. We came all this way. We're gonna check it out."

Kiera wasn’t sure exactly what she’d gotten herself into here, she simply stood looking around the scene to gleam some idea. It appeared to be a post-apocalyptic scene, she just hoped it wasn’t from a horror film.

Miguel drifted in place, his vacant stare fixed on the silent skyline as the sight of the dead metropolis nudged him a fraction closer to the edge. He blinked hard, catching himself and forcing his mind back toward reality.

"We gotta see if there are others here," Miguel insisted softly, his voice heavy with grim resolve. "We came all this way. We're gonna check it out."

Down at the docks, Maria shoved a length of hose into the open gasoline receptacle of an abandoned boat, sucking hard to draw the fuel upward. Nearby, Tony pulled his hose free and spat violently. "Ptoooo! Nothing! Dry as a bone. No gas. Let's get outa here."

"Check them all," Miguel called down from the dock. "And check the tanks under the pumps."

Leaving them to search, Miguel turned toward the harbor park, flanked by Sarah and Chico. Raising the electronic bullhorn to his lips, he yelled into the silence, "HELLO! IS THERE ANYONE THERE? HELLO!"

Across the city, the dead heard the call. Low, hungry groans rose from the shadows, swelling into a deafening wall of sound. Hundreds of decayed figures spilled from the city streets, surging onto the grass of the park with terrifying speed.

At the docks, Maria made the sign of the cross as Tony panicked. "Dios mía! I tol' him this was a dead place!"

The horde flooded the park, but they ignored the guerrillas entirely. Drawn instead by the clean, living scent of an outsider who didn't belong in this nightmare, the rotting crowd turned as one toward Kiera. Dragging limbs and snapping yellowed teeth, the swarm surged forward, lunging directly for her where she stood at the holodeck threshold.

“Ahh hell no!” Kiera looked around for the nearest place of safety to run for, unfortunately she was severely outnumbered. Even though the holodeck safeties were on it was an all too worrying scenario. She didn’t have time to think up calling the arch so she started running in the only direction she could see to go.

The sea-worn wooden pier creaked under the weight of the surging undead as the intruder bolted toward the marina's bait-and-tackle shop. Rotting hands clawed at the air, yellowed teeth snapping inches from her heels. The overwhelming stench of wet decay and swamp water filled the air, so vivid that even knowing it was forcefields and holograms did nothing to quell the instinctual panic surging through the scene.

A decaying arm clad in a shredded flannel shirt lunged through the broken porch railing, cold, firm fingers snagging the sleeve of her fresh uniform tunic. Over the edge of the porch, three grotesque figures—their flesh pale, waterlogged, and torn—spilled over the railing, lunging straight down.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The sharp, concussive thunder of a heavy 12-gauge shotgun shattered the air. The three lead corpses blew backward off the porch, their holographic matrices flickering violently into golden grid patterns before dissolving into thin air as the safeties absorbed the physical impact.

Before the next wave of the dead could step onto the porch, a tall figure in a rugged brown leather jacket, worn denim, and high leather boots stepped out from the shadow of the tackle shop door. A classic Remington 870 pump-action shotgun rested solidly in his grip, smoke still curling from the barrel.

Commodore Wilkan Targaryen rack-pumped the action with a crisp, practiced clack-clack, ejecting a smoking red shell casing onto the wooden planks. His dark, almost black eyes swept over the swarm with cold, ruthless efficiency before lower-slashing the stock of the gun across the jaw of another approaching corpse, sending it tumbling back into the tide.

Without missing a beat, Wilkan reached down with his free hand, catching Kiera firmly by the forearm and hauling her smoothly to her feet behind his shoulder.

"You picked a hell of a time to visit Florida, Kiera," Wilkan said, his deep voice entirely unhurried, though a brief, dry glint of familial warmth touched his dark eyes.

He raised the shotgun, firing two rapid shots into the crowd pressing up the stairs, clearing a five-foot swath of space on the porch.

"Computer, end program," Wilkan commanded clearly.

In an instant, the sweltering Florida sun, the roaring sea wind, the rotting dock, and the surging horde vanished into nothingness. The oppressive heat evaporated, replaced by the clean, climate-controlled air of the starship. The endless wasteland dissolved into the familiar black walls and bright yellow gridlines of Holodeck 2.

Wilkan lowered the shotgun, which vanished from his hands as the holo-matrix cleared completely. He turned to face his niece, adjusting the collar of his uniform jacket—which had been resting on a nearby holodeck bench alongside his communicator.

"Welcome aboard the Enterprise," Wilkan said smoothly, offering her a calm, approving smile. "Though I usually prefer to welcome my officers over a quiet cup of tea in the Ready Room."

“Well…I tried but you weren’t there.” Kiera added as she caught her breath. “I know that I…needed some exercise, but not quite like that.” She grinned. “It’s good to see you Uncle Wilkan! Or should I say Kiera Targaryen reporting for duty Sir!”

"Reporting for duty indeed," Wilkan replied, his deep voice carrying a strict, commanding weight tempered only by a faint, wry smirk. "Though I suggest checking the safety protocols on the door before barging into your Commanding Officer's scheduled time slot... that wasn't a leisure scenario, Kiera, but a live tactical simulation with the safety protocols disabled. Had those shells not cleared those corpses off the porch when they did, your arrival on the Enterprise would have ended in an outbreak of the undead."

Kiera gave her uncle a surprised and worried look. “Are you kidding me!? What if something would have happened to you? All it takes is one slip up and then you’d have had crew in here trying to save you facing the same danger!” She sighed and shook her head. “With all due respect as your niece I find it disturbing. As a Medical Officer I think it was a very dangerous thing to do.”

"Danger is the baseline of command, Doctor," Wilkan said softly as he picked up his uniform jacket, sliding it over his broad shoulders before fastening the front with deliberate, measured motions. "A captain who does not test his own limits in the dark cannot expect his crew to face the unknown."

“Testing your limits in battle with your crew is one thing Commodore, testing them against Zombies in the holodeck is another. Since when do you have to face Zombies when flying around the universe?” Kiera asked curiously. “I’m not complaining about your off duty time Uncle Wilkan, I do happen to care about your welfare. Mum would never forgive me if I didn’t look out for you.”

"You would be surprised what a captain encounters out on the frontier, Kiera," Wilkan replied as a knowing smirk touched his lips. He stepped toward the holodeck exit, gesturing for her to walk beside him as he continued, "The universe doesn't always stick to standard diplomatic encounters, after all a simple research project involving the chimera blossom managed to transform an entire facility of Federation and Klingon personnel into mindlessly aggressive corpses."

“Really? Wow!” Kiera smiled. “I’m glad I wasn’t there for that one. I’m covering my bases in Sickbay, there are areas I want to brush on and areas I want to study so I’ll kind of be here, there, and everywhere. The doctor says she’s very pleased to have me here.”

"I have no doubt Doctor Kholin is pleased to have you," Wilkan reinforced, smoothing the front of his uniform jacket as they walked. "I was somewhat surprised at your rank badge though. It isn't every day an enlisted corpsman steps in as a doctor instead of taking the standard commissioned track. Bet your grandpa loves that."

“Well you know grandpa, he wants us all to be the best.” Kiera offered a smile. “He wasn’t that happy that I joined the marines, but I’ve always been one to do my own thing and I’ve had the reprimands for it too, but as you know time tends to temper those influences. Not that I won’t speak my mind if I feel it’s warranted. I know you won’t show me any favours and I wouldn’t want you too either, I’m just another crew member amongst all those onboard. I can feel the respect they have for you. How does it feel to have Aunt Loatha as your superior now?”

"Your grandfather’s opinions on career paths have rarely aligned with reality, Kiera," Wilkan said smoothly, a dry, faint amusement lacing his voice as they turned the corridor, his hands resting naturally behind his back in a classic posture of quiet authority. "He'll just have to live with the choices we both made."

"As for your Aunt Loatha," Wilkan continued as he paused outside the Turbolift doors, "commanding a Century Class vessel while carrying flag rank requires a delicate balance. On this deck, she is Commodore Targaryen’s superior officer, and I yield to her authority without hesitation. Behind closed doors, she is my wife and the mother of our twins, and she challenges my tactical outlook far more thoroughly than any Board of Inquiry ever could."

Kiera nodded. “Of course. As for grandpa he did his bit to try talking me out of enlisting, when that didn’t work he tried pulling strings with someone who owed him a favour to grease wheels for me, but I refused the help. I wanted to do things my way.” She smiled. Now speaking of the twins, how old are they now? I’ve missed out on so much I just want to catch up, and do family gatherings like we used to.

A deep, low chuckle rumbled from Wilkan’s chest. "Refusing his interference and carving your own path was the best decision you could have made, Kiera," Wilkan said, his tone carrying a rare note of quiet pride. "When I served on the Gettysburg and officially logged a senior officer for a dangerous Warp Core alignment, Dazad and his 'Old Guard' treated doing the right thing like a personal betrayal of command and exiled me to a trainer to stifle my career. He’s always been obsessed with controlling the family legacy."

He stepped into the Turbolift, resting one arm comfortably on the wall rail as he turned back to face her, his gaze steady. "Part of me wonders if I should just grant you a provisional officer's commission right now and get it over with," Wilkan added. "It might actually put me in Dazad's good graces for once, or at the very least, watching you bypass his grand design is probably doing wonders to keep me out of trouble with him. He'll simply have to accept that neither of us was ever going to dance on his strings."

Kiera smiled. “To be honest there have been times I’ve considered taking up an Officer’s commission, but I’ve spent a long time earning my enlisted rank and I’m not ready to drop that just yet. I’d have to crawl through the ranks all over again if I did that.” She paused tucking her hair behind her pointed ears one of the view identifying characteristics of her Vulcan genetics. “So tell me about the crew I can feel the usual Betazoid presence onboard, anyone I should find particularly interesting amongst the crew?”

"The crew is a capable mix of Starfleet's finest, though we certainly have our share of unique individuals," Wilkan replied, his hands settling into their familiar position behind his back as the turbolift began its smooth acceleration through the superstructure. "Nevertheless, it's not my place to influence your impressions of others. You can get to know them on your own."

“I wouldn’t want it any other way” Kiera smiled warmly. “I hope to be able to visit the bridge at some point too. Doctor Kholin has offered to get me a tour of the ship so I’m looking forward to that.”

Wilkan’s expression softened slightly, a faint, genuine smile touching his features as the turbolift doors parted to reveal the upper corridor leading toward Deck 1. Stepping out into the corridor with his hands clasped firmly behind his back, Wilkan said, "The Enterprise is a fine vessel, Kiera. You'll find her systems are as responsive as they are complex; a far cry from the old trainer hulls, but a welcome challenge."

"Dismissed to your duties, Corpsman," Wilkan concluded smoothly, his deep voice carrying a familiar mix of professional authority and quiet, familial pride, "and Kiera... welcome home."



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