Part 3 of 7
The trio of alien machines formed a semi-circle, their eye sticks focused on Kirk and their guns swinging up to cover him. He looked at his useless phaser and tossed it aside, it would avail him nothing to use it again.
Once again that cold unfeeling voice sliced the air,
This area is off limits, you will be exterminated
So strange and unfeeling was this announcement that Kirk experienced a degree of anger as well as fear, the arrogance of the voice was overwhelming as though he had no say in the matter and was of no importance.
"This," he said. "Is a star fleet vessel, you can't just…"
The voice cut into his explanation dismissively.
Prepare to fire
The three robots fanned out to form a semi-circle and Kirk backed up to the blue crate again feelings its heat its vibration, it could generate power and some impulse told him he was safer near it than away from it.
When the blazing white light came the killing light he closed his eyes and raised his arms as a shield knowing he was doomed, but the death rays didn't touch him they stopped in the air about two feet from his body and dispersed around something, a shape a barrier.
He felt the scorching power of them but he was not turned into an X-Ray like poor Prior. It was the blue crate, he'd been right its power was protecting him.
Retarget and fire said the hate-filled voice, yes hate it crackled with the emotion, a hatred of the different.
Another blazing avalanche of whiteness but this time he fell backward through something, a door, and tumbled into the impossible, the door closing behind him to blot out the killing beams.
James T. Kirk had seen some amazing sights in his life but nothing in his career had prepared him for the sight that now greeted his eyes. It was incredible, impossible and for a moment he doubted the evidence of his own eyes. No he wanted to cry I must be hallucinating, there's no way all of this can exist inside a tiny wooden crate. Alice through the looking glass he thought ruefully, wondering if the robots would follow him inside; glad when they didn't.
Why hadn't they, how could a mere box keep such juggernauts outside? Their energy weapons could surely blast it to matchwood – or could they?
Kirk circled the amazing room he was in and he couldn't even begin to judge its size or function, was it a bridge, a helm of some sort. Obviously it wasn't it didn't belong to the robots or they'd be here and they weren't.
Moving up to a central console he ran his palms over it, the panels were oak or pine and the controls looked like chess pieces, not metal they felt like they were made of coral or maybe refined crystal they seemed oddly old-fashioned, as did the pull down levers and dials you had to twist manually.
Everything here had an anachronistic feel to it yet he wasn't foolish enough to doubt that what he was stood in was a very complex and advanced construction way beyond human knowledge, even that of the 23rd century.
Why was there nobody hear to either greet or attack him, where could the crew be or where they around him now part of the furnishings?
He saw the man one moment later. Tall, slender, short dark hair cropped close to the skull, large ears and a matching nose he was aged about forty lying on a white-topped table that seemed to have slid out of a wall recess.
Rushing over Kirk sought a pulse, what he found was a curious double-pulse as though the man had…but that was absurd.
Sweating profusely the man had a glistening, sticky face as though consumed by a fever. Under the lids his eyes were moving rapidly and he was trying to speak although no words escaped the thin lips.
The brown coat looked like it was made of real leather, the denim trousers, cloth shirt and black shoe shad a 20th maybe an early 21st century appearance they didn't appear to be a uniform of any sort so the guy must be a civilian.
"Hello," Kirk said softly and then a bit louder, "Can you hear me?"
Instantly the eyes flicked open shocking Kirk by how alive they were how brilliant and knowing. They fixed on him piercingly and he felt a powerful will compete with his own, as the man's look held him rooted in place. But when the man spoke it was with a voice Kirk knew the voice of an old and trusted friend.
"Jim."
My God it couldn't be.
"Spock?" Kirk replied with a hoarse whisper.
The eyes closed and the head slumped for a moment but the stranger wasn't asleep because a moment later he spoke again, not in Spock's voice but in a curious accent more in fitting with his attire.
"It's over," he said not saying what was over, "Difficult this time," a lopsided grin formed warm but resilient, "Still this is no time to be idle," and with a bound he was off the table and on his feet peering at the central console.
An English accent Kirk discerned but regional with short tight vowels, the man spoke to himself, "Brain cells still a bit scrambled."
Yes thought Kirk you and me both, "Are you ill," he asked?
"Post regenerative shock, not to worry it'll soon pass."
"Who are you?" he asked hoping for a coherent answer.
"Daleks," The man said ignoring the question. "They've been trying to access your computers but the tardis is blocking them, that's this by the way my ship, do you like it?"
Kirk was impressed this odd man was eccentric but he felt highly capable. "They want my ship," he said.
"Yeah I know, they're own was damaged in the time war, I followed it here but wasn't in time to stop you carting them aboard. Bad move by the way."
Yes thought Kirk so I'm beginning to realise, "These daleks, what are they where are they from?"
The man seemed lost in thought for a moment a frown marring his features, "Mutant survivors of a long dead race," he said absently.
"So they're not robots," Kirk deduced.
"Cyborgs, the shells are mobile life support units. The daleks are from Skaro or they were originally."
Having never heard of Skaro Kirk studied a viewing screen above the console; the three metallic creatures were in a huddle outside perhaps deciding what to do next.
They can't get in here Kirk realised somehow this ship is impregnable to them; the knowledge gave him hope.
"Do you have a name mister...?"
"I'm the Doctor." So Bones had competition that would please him no end. The Doctor's gaze was riveted on the cone-shaped killers, a strange dark fire in his eyes and Kirk got the sense of a shared history a long running conflict. "They don't belong in your universe anymore than I do." His smile returned nova-bright. "So we've got to eject them."
Yes thought Kirk but how if our weapons are useless. "Do you have a plan," he asked? "Doctor."
The tall man smoothed his jacket, "Not yet I'm still coping with the change."
Kirk couldn't guess as to what this change was but he noticed a suit of clothing thrown carelessly onto a chair – an Edwardian frock coat with a bat wing collar, a ruffled silken shirt, a grey cravat and some scuffed slip on shoes. They seemed to belong to a shorter, slighter man perhaps older and he found them a curious anomaly.
Then the Doctor was speaking, "Here we go Jim, conflab over; they're about to offer us an ultimatum."
Kirk smiled this odd man could anticipate the daleks, that to might be a useful asset if they were to be cast off the enterprise.
Outside the dalek leader looked up and seemed able to see right inside this bizarre machine, when it spoke the harsh grate of its voice again made Kirk's pulses race.
If you do not surrender now we will begin exterminating your crew.
Behind the three daleks two more daleks shepherded some figures into the bay, Kirk was appalled to recognise McCoy, Scotty and Christine Chapel.
Next episode...POWER PLAY