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Sparrow Reed Saga	By : Sparrowbirdie Category: Star Trek > Enterprise Views: 3073 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any characters in it, Pirates of the Caribbean or any characters in it, Troy or any characters in it. I do not own Harry Potter, Alien or any characters in it. I make no money on this story. It's a work of ficti

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The doors to the airlock whizzed open immediately. The barrier between them, was no longer present. Captain Archer could finally be face to face with them all. Before he could think of a becoming manner of greeting the stranger, Dr. Phlox was first in, rolling in a transportable bio-bed. The stranger lifted Malcolm onto the bed, where Dr. Phlox immediately wrapped him a blanket. Only just now did they realise how tired Malcolm was. Now that the situation had shifted again, and the bond between the lovers were momentarily severed by a lot of lose ends and by the physical re-location from one place to another, Malcolm's chin began to tremble again. He didn't bother with the tears. He let them fall freely. His future – or rather theirs – were in the blue. Before Malcolm was carted off, Archer held them back. He cleared his throat, and said: “Thank you, for upholding your end of the agreement. I have done what I can to make sure that Admiral Forrest got your message concerning the responsibility for Lieutenant Reed. Now, I'd like to start from scratch by introducing myself. My name is Captain Jonathan Archer, I am the commanding officer of Enterprise.”
“General Marian Kostíka Smétana Sparrow Monterey. 381^St British Royal Infantry Division.” Marian extended his hand to the captain, who extended his arm and shook it. Archer winced in earnest. The grip was crushing, and he couldn't quite decide if general Monterey was aware of his own strength or if it was a show of superiority. “It's nice to have you with us, Sir” Archer said anyway, wincing slightly. He suspected he'd might develop a permanent neck injury if he was going to have to look up at this creature every single day. Marian had an enthralling pair of brown eyes, and framed by billowing, amber hair which was full of molten highlights, he proved almost irresistible when this close up. Towering a good two and half metres into the air, he easily dwarfed Archer. The captain had no problem understanding why Malcolm fell to the temptation. Had he been homosexual, Archer might have given in to the temptation himself. “I'm going to have to ask you to go through our decontamination chamber.” He watched as Marian hesitated at this inquiry. He eyed Malcolm, who was looking concerned and tired beyond belief. “If that is a problem, then why not send Dr. Phlox and Malcolm through there as well?” Archer proposed, sensing that there might be a conflict.

“Very good. The toddler needs a good clean-up” Marian replied, with a heavy Scottish accent.

“I couldn't help hearing your accent, Sir. Scotland?”

“I was born in on a galleon along with two other brothers in the Caribbean sea. I spent my childhood in Scotland, growing up on the Isle of Lewis.”

“How interesting” Archer replied, arching both eyebrows. A Scottish Xenomorph. He was actually more interested in the fact that the general chose to share personal information with him. It was a good sign.
Taking baby steps, torso crouched forward and supporting his weight on Marian's arm, Malcolm was able to walk into the decontamination area. Marian was quick to take charge. Dr. Phlox did not mind. He kept a respectful distance, sensing that this was more than just colleagues or aliens having a first encounter. This was a couple who was, despite the time they had been apart, especially close. He helped Malcolm off with the clothes, asked if he needed to wee, and guided him over to the lavatory.

“I'm so glad you're here” Malcolm repeated a lot. Little else was said, except for Marian's questions as to Malcolm's desires. Malcolm managed to shower on his own. He had no outward signs that he had given birth little more than an hour ago, a part from the faint traces of blood trickling down the insides of his thighs. But he looked tired and he was extremely pale. He wrapped a towel around his waist and put Marian's sweater back on. He was helped over to the bio-bed. Together with Dr. Phlox, he watched as Marian undid the suit shaped to partly imitate a Xenomorph's exoskeleton. It had to be advanced technology, because the exterior seemed to collapse in on itself and withdraw until it resembled two nicely ornate wristbands in black leather, two on each wrist. And they varied and changed constantly, as if they were alive. Dr. Phlox at least, suspected as much, and as the half-breed commenced to pull them off his wrist, it was established that sinewy strings was actually attached to Marian's veins. Pulling them from his skin made the organism withdraw, and the strings left the veins, leaving a small red pinhole on the surface where it had breached. The bracelets were living organisms. Parasites designed to be weapons, shields, support. Dr. Phlox was in love.
Malcolm watched in silence as the alien commenced to undo his tight-fitting costume by unzipping at something on his back. His mind was only on the pale body which now revealed itself beneath the white clothing. He had to smile. The sight of the naked torso brought back memories, and he looked up into Marian's face. As their eyes met, he couldn't keep from grinning even wider, until Malcolm had to look away from sheer, British shyness. Dr. Phlox registered on his bio-scanner how Malcolm's pulse suddenly had quickened, and there was no need to conduct experiments to see the open flirtations and the volumes of unspoken attraction between the two, which all of the sudden bloomed in the relatively crammed compartment.

Captain Archer was still observing from the outside. He had been eager to see the anatomy of this hybrid for himself. He wasn't disappointed. Malcolm's sudden blush and the lustful looks which he threw in the hybrid's direction, suggested that there was indeed affection between the two. Upon disrobing, the hybrid revealed that the anatomy of his torso was slightly differently shaped than that of a human. Beneath his xiphoid process, there was another but smaller set of arms. The fingers did not have the same human outline. They looked more Xenomorph, with pointy bones ending in sharp claws. They were neatly folded below the last rib, into a recess which – when folded – made the torso appear whole and human looking. One had to look twice in order to see that there actually were arms there. Upon disrobing, the arms came alive, the hands hovering slightly outside the natural alcove below Marian's xiphoid process. Marian went from looking like an angelic dream to exotic alien species which made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. In fascination. Attraction. Marian undid his boots and peeled the rest of the tight-fitting suit off. Archer could tell that even Dr. Phlox was having a problem with all of this extremely attractive display. And there was no longer a doubt in his mind as to why Malcolm had lost his wits and engaged with this breathtaking creature. Dr. Phlox – who was becoming increasingly flustered – busied himself with various small tasks as folding towels and assembling items he would need for dressing Malcolm's wound. Archer could tell the doctor was stressed, and he had to smile. But Malcolm was the funniest to watch. He had gone completely oblivious to his surroundings, and was staring at his lover's naked figure with a full display of admiration for his physique. Malcolm's blue eyes wandered up and down, up and down time and again, until Marian vanished into the shower. He had to bend somewhat to fit underneath the head of the shower, and the wings were left outside. It looked rather ridiculous. Dr. Phlox took the opportunity to do a reading of the contamination level of the wings, and he was surprised to find that they pretty much shed anything they came into contact with. Once he was done, Marian had to back out of the shower, and that made Archer wonder where they were going to put him. He needed quarters in which to stay, and he wasn't sure if the VIP section would be large enough.
Then came toddler Reed's turn. Little Reed was not pleased with being disturbed from his slumber in the towel. But the towel was by now soiled, and when Marian unwrapped the whimpering baby and held him up in one hand, toddler Reed decided he would offer some ground-based air defence, and commenced to wee on Marian's chest. Marian gasped from the sudden shock. It made Malcolm laugh, before adding: “That's my boy!” Marian smiled too, enjoying Malcolm's joke. To Archer, that indicated that they might even share the same humour. Another thing in common. Toddler Reed was not prepared for a shower. He lay, literally in the palm of his father's hand, chest down, head to the side, when the water sprinkled soothingly over his little back. He began to wail, and the wail was like a cat's mewing, only more sore and heart-wrenching. It made Malcolm fall to pieces, not being able to see what was going on in the shower. There were too many feathers and too little space. He wiped his tears and buried his face in his hand, looking anguished. The threshold between heaven and hell for Lieutenant Reed, was apparently non-existent. Captain Archer could very well understand why Marian was being very cautious. From the over-the-top care and attention, it was probable to assume that he was aware of Malcolm's fragile mental health. And it had caused him to lash out at Archer, considering attack to be the best defence. He had, Archer mused, after all found Reed ready to kill himself, with a pistol pointing at his temple.
Marian emerged from the shower, backing out. It looked a little ridiculous, but that was most practical. Little Reed had settled in his father's arms. The lesser arms, clearly sculpted on Xenomorph DNA, Archer noted. Seeing them in use, Archer swallowed, trying not to let his scepticism show. The use of the arms made Marian look extremely alien, and it only furthered to make it clear why Malcolm had identified his lover as a Xenomorph. Toddler Reed didn't seem to notice, again showing his disapproval over the current situation. He was wet, and it was cold. And probably hungry all over again. He was now very much awake and moving everything he could move. Arms and legs. Tongue and eyes. The neck was a bit of a challenge, because he wasn't strong at all. Malcolm was looking positively desperate.

“Is he all right? What happened?!” he demanded.

“Just the shock of the water. Haven't had a shower before” Marian responded, speaking softly to the toddler. He pulled a dry towel from the nearby shelf. The white towel had STARFLEET woven into the fabric with big, fat blue letters, leaving little doubt as to whom it belonged. He put the towel on the floor, squatted and put toddler Reed down and then wrapped the baby in it. He fished out a miniature diaper from his bag and put it on the child, before wrapping little Reed loosely into the towel and handing him to Malcolm. Being cleaned up, the baby now appeared completely different. It had adopted a more normal skin tone, and it was soft all over and smelling sweetly, sporting a thicket of dark, fluffy hair on the top his head. Standing on end, he was the spitting, childlike image of Malcolm. Archer saw the features instantly. There was a lot of Reed, there. Malcolm couldn't withhold a modest smile, as the toddler yawned widely and curled up inside the soft towel in Malcolm's strong arms, clearly more content with his current location. His father had to take a peek. He was anxious to count toes and fingers, finding them all to hold the proper number of digits on each limb. And there wasn't an extra set of arms. The fingernails had the same colour, though, as Marian's. Xenomorph black. A part from that, every last detail of the anatomy seemed human. Malcolm felt completely absorbed in the tiny face. The perfect positioning of the eyelashes and the eyebrows. Every strand of hair on the toddler's head. There was no imagining a life without this creature. This tiny, little bundle which quite inexplicably had come from inside his body. Malcolm looked up at Marian, who had dressed in fresh clothes. Dark blue tunic and the black trousers he'd originally put on Malcolm. He even wore socks. When he discovered that Malcolm was observing him, he paused in putting on his boots, and said; “What?” His auburn, fiery looking mane cascaded down from behind his shoulders, shrouding his face. The alluring image made Malcolm smile. The tactical officer shook his head weakly, before saying: “It's just, I never imagined that you …, that I should be so lucky to find someone so…!” his voice trailed off, lacking the proper words. The sweater made it look as if Marian only had one pair of arms. It made him look a lot less intimidating. A lot less alien. Malcolm shut his eyes tightly for a second while he contemplated on finding the right adjective. He opened his eyes again and looked squarely into Marian's brown chocolate ones.

“Perfectly human” Malcolm added. He paused, then said: “Earth, ey?”

“Six thousand years.” Marian replied. “I'm... third generation living there.”

“Third?” Malcolm replied a little baffled.

“We live long lives. I'm 388, and still considered wet behind the ears” Marian added with a hint of irony. He threw Malcolm a lopsided smile. The tactical officer returned the gesture with an even wider smile, which Marian obviously found irresistible. He walked over, bent down and kissed Malcolm's inviting lips.
Malcolm couldn't have cared less if the kiss had been inappropriate. There was, at any rate nothing appropriate about the situation as a whole, a tiny voice in the back of his head told him. He looked down at the sleepy toddler nuzzling against Malcolm's shirt, absent-mindedly looking for a teat with something edible somewhere.

“He's hungry again” Marian stated. He turned his attention to doctor Phlox.

“Oh, that will not be a problem” Dr. Phlox chirped, smiling widely. He gestured for the door, just as the baby began to get impatient. The noise was heart-wrenching, leaving Malcolm in a state of alarm.

“It's all right, Malcolm” Marian told him soothingly. “He's not dying just yet.” But those words were poor for comfort. For Malcolm, who was sternly told by Phlox to stay in bed, things seemed to take forever. He couldn't rest properly before that teat was back into the baby's mouth. Only then did he sit back and relax. The toddler drank greedily, then dozed off, with the teat still in his mouth. Marian leaned closer, and with one finger he stroke the baby's chin softly. A feathery touch made the boy wake just enough to start gulping away again. Malcolm's gaze darted from toddler, to Marian and back again. He could not hold back a thin-lipped smile, as a feeling bloomed in his chest. They were together again. That fact alone was more than he'd dared hope for. He got to be close again, close enough to study Marian's features. The porcelain white skin, the brown orbs with golden specks, and the hair. The enormous mass of sometimes amber, sometimes ripe cornfield blonde with tinges of red, was extremely enthralling. And yes, Malcolm admitted to himself, he had always had a thing for redheads. Women – he mused while looking into the mesmerizing eyes of his lover – was a safe bet which was amusing enough. And the fascination for handsome men had always been there. Only, it was a lane he'd never dared to venture down – until some nine months ago. Perhaps it was the combination? The male and the female qualities together? Yes, Malcolm mused. It had to be that. Flavoured with the alien spice. The wings. The extra set of arms. The black eyes and the claws. The alien, the animal, the angel and the human in one, intoxicating combination.
Malcolm shut his eyes tight as he felt tears well up again. He fought weakly to stay in control of his emotions but to no avail. Everything he had laboured for up to this point in his career, was now falling apart. Nothing made sense any more. He could no longer tell where his standards were, his morale and sense of duty. Having this baby – his baby, his very own offspring – resting on his chest, was the only thing in eternity which made sense. He eyed Marian again. Marian was not more than half a metre away, studying them both.

“If this arrangement with Archer doesn't work out” Malcolm whispered, “and you're forced to leave, I want to go with you.”

“We'll talk about that if the situation does occur” Marian replied soothingly. “There's no need to worry in advance.”

“I'm not so sure me staying around would send the right message to the crew” Malcolm replied, looking into Marian's enthralling eyes once again. “I got lucky with you. But they shouldn't be following my example. Not all species out there are … friendly. At any rate, it would only be proper for me to resign. I could resign, and leave. With you.”

“You should get some sleep” Marian said. Malcolm reluctantly handed him over.

“Don't go any where, all right? Promise me?”

“And leave you at the mercy of your captain? Come now, Malcolm.”

“He's not that bad, you know” Malcolm said, smiling at the more than obvious scepticism. He watched sleepily as Marian tore the blanket from the nearest bio-bed, and arranged it on the floor. For such a regal looking creature, Marian was used to simplicity. Once the blanket had been spread out on the floor, he lay down on it, using his left wing as a cushion, covering himself and his baby son with the other one. Curling up into a cocoon, Marian was nearly invisible beneath the mass of black feathers. Soon, the wings heaved peacefully in time with steady breaths. Malcolm shut his eyes, regretting the enormous distance between them, separated as they were, by a metre and a half. The need to be one with what felt as his other half, was so strong it ached inside Malcolm's chest. Where had this feeling emerged from? Could he allow himself to bet on this? Throw himself at the mercy of this creature? Would his child even live up to be a man one day, and what then? Could he risk having them stay on Enterprise without compromising everything? And what was everything? Malcolm mused as he drifted off into sleep, with images from the airlock swirling on his retina. Nothing was going to be the same. His flawless character as an officer, was now crumbling. He could not expect to be allowed to resume his position as tactical officer. Did he even want to resume it, himself? The position was time-consuming, demanding and full of risks. Death around every corner. Dangers were everywhere. This ship, however peaceful, was not a safe place to bring up a child in. It would be better if he left. That way, he could commit himself to this boy entirely. But what if he failed to father it? What kind of father would he be, who couldn't even get a relationship to last beyond three months? Perhaps it would be for the best if he let them go. But, could he do that, now that he had obtained what he had spent years accepting he could never have? Malcolm leaned over on his right side, peering down at the peaceful cocoon of feathers. No. He could not let his boy go. No.
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Sparrow Reed Saga