"Dr. McCoy to the transporter room" came Kirk's chipper voice over the intercom.
Dr. McCoy sighed. It's probably some new planet that will want to kill us after it's ground us up and flayed us alive the doctor thought morosely as he rose from his seat in the sick bay, grabbed his bag of medical and scientific instruments, and headed out the door.
It was the usual entourage: Kirk, Spock, Scotty, and some red-shirted security man who was probably going to end up dead at the end of all this. Why is that the case? It's as if someone planned it that way the doctor wondered.
He got on that crazy transporter machine. It pricked his flesh just thinking about what the thing did to his cells time and again. I'm sure I'm going to die of some rare form of cancer attributed to this thing. I know it. There was his mind running wild again. He had to get the better of it and keep it from giving him full-on panic attacks in the middle of deep space.
The man at the controls engaged them at the Captain's order and the party dematerialized on the Enterprise and rematerialized on - "Wait a minute! Jim, where are we? This isn't some planet. What is this?"
"This, Doctor," began Commander Spock, "is a cryogenic prison ship. It's occupants are from various dates ranging from the early 21st century to the late 22nd century. They were imprisoned for various reasons ranging from moderate to extreme lawlessness. Only one pod has survived."
"Bones, I want you to check it out; let me know if he's in critical condition. Scotty, find out if his pod can be safely moved to the Enterprise, I don't want to have to tow this thing all the way to the nearest star base for one person. Spock, download all the ship's data and have the computer analyze it, find out who this man was and what he did to get him a ticket to the "ice hotel". Ensign Wilson and I will search the rest of the ship for anything of note."
They all split up to their various tasks. McCoy took out his medical scanner and proceeded to scan the male inside the pod. All his vital signs read normal. He was just a big sleeping lump in a very cold room. His sleep at the moment appeared to be dreamless. That was good. Being trapped in an ice box for hundreds of years dreaming could drive a person as nuts as two sleepless weeks in the Sahara desert. He looked at the panels attached to the man's unit. It appeared that it was designed to put the man into REM sleep twelve hours before wake up so that he wouldn't wake up insane. Not a bad plan. I'd actually like to see this contraption work one of these days.
After half an hour of attending to their various tasks, the crew of the Enterprise that were on board the Pankova met in the central chamber that housed its one lone occupant.
"Bones, how is he?"
"Fit as a fiddle, Jim. All scans read normal. He's in a dreamless state right now, to keep him from losing his sanity, but the machine is designed to induce a REM state about twelve hours before waking. That is, should we chose to wake him."
"We may have to Cap'n." It was Scotty, holding his instrument scanner and looking a bit forlorn. "We canna bring this thing on board the Enterprise. She's workin' fine naow, but she's a fragile bit o' machinery and she wouldna take the strain. And that's besides the fact that it's so tied into this ship's systems it would take years to extricate it and replicate such a system on the Enterprise. Either we tow this bucket o' bolts or we wake the gentleman up."
"Gentleman is hardly an appropriate term Mr. Scott."
The Captain looked at Commander Spock. "Why is that Mr. Spock?"
"This man is a prisoner for political crimes. Apparently he was a Russian assassin who was caught by the United States - you'll remember those were two opposing countries back in the -"
"Yes, yes! I remember Mr. Spock. Please continue."
"This man was a trained assassin with 54 confirmed kills. He was captured by the United States on a mission that went awry. Then he was questioned and then placed into the stasis chamber we see here."
"What's his name Mr. Spock?"
"Kirill, Captain."
"Just Kirill?"
"Yes sir. Though I doubt it is his real name as assassins were usually given nom de plumes so as to better hide themselves."
"When was he placed in here?"
"August 2010 on the Anno Domini scale."
"Spock, was there a sentence? Or is he supposed to stay asleep forever."
"This Kirill was due to be released on parole one hundred and thirty-three years ago."
James T. Kirk ran his hand through his dark blond hair and sighed. It was a tough decision. This man was a killer with multiple lives on his hands. But he should have been freed over a century ago. He couldn't leave him here, but he was a threat.
"Wake him up."
"Sir?" "But Cap'n -" "Jim!"
"Do it Mr. Scott! Bones, monitor his condition." Kirk pulled out his communicator, flipped it open and switched it on. "Kirk to Enterprise."
"Enterprise here Captain." It was Lieutenant Sulu's voice.
"I want two more security personnel beamed to this ship immediately."
"Yes sir."
Dr. McCoy and Lieutenant Commander Scott approached the pod as two glowing, swirling columns of light materialized into two security guards. Scott took a few glances at the instrument panels, stretched forth his hand, and pressed a few buttons. A blue light inside the pod came on. Soon it had turned purple, then red, and then a myriad of colors. McCoy scanned the man. Good, he's dreaming. At least he won't wake up a crazy killer, he'll be your normal average sane killer. Is that any better? If it's not the transporter it's something else. I sure hope this guy isn't "something else".
Twelve hours later Bones was drinking his fourth cup of coffee with cream and sugar. He had been monitoring Kirill's condition for the entirety of the wake-up process. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Kirill slowly opened his hazel eyes. He took a deep breath and then, out of the corner of his eye, he looked at Dr. McCoy. A chill ran through the doctor's body at the man's gaze. There was a moments' hesitation, then Bones pressed the button the broke the seal on Kirill's glass jar. The two men Sulu had sent down from security drew their phasers.
As soon as the glass doors above him had receded Kirill sat up. There was an awkward moment where everyone stared and no one said a thing. Korosho, deriymo.* Kirill thought. "Are you just going to let me sit here naked and hungry while you're gaping and pointing those..." he struggled to find the word "laser guns at me?"
Bones blinked a few times before picking up the gown next to him that he had had beamed down for Kirill. "You'll have to wear this to the infirmary. We'll get some normal clothes for you to wear after I've given you a physical examination."
The Russian nodded his head, took the gown and tied it shut behind him.
One of the security guards stepped forward. "Sir, if you'll follow me, we're going to beam you to the ship."
"You're going to what?"
McCoy stepped in, "They're going to rip your body into its atomic particles, and send them over to another space ship in a tiny stream, where they will then piece you back together again and pretend like no damage has been done."
"Pretend?"
The security guard chuckled, "Sir, Dr. McCoy is a bit paranoid, but his description of transportation is actually pretty accurate. However, it is painless, and it is beyond rare for anything irreversible to happen as a result of a transporter malfunction."
Kirill rolled his eyes, "Oh, yes. That speech certainly inspires confidence." He got up and motioned for the security guard that had been speaking to him to lead the way to wherever it was they wanted him to go.
The sparkles cleared from Kirill's eyes, he blinked and looked around. It was a largish chamber. He was standing on an illuminated circular pad. There were five others situated around him. The two guards and Dr. McCoy began to move towards the door. Kirill stepped down and dutifully followed.
A few hallways in, a trip down the turbolift, a few more hallways and sick bay was reached. Kirill memorized each step of the layout as he walked, making notes of corridors and labeled rooms along the way. The ship was neat and well ordered. It calmed him that it wasn't the mess of tubes, wires, levers, and buttons that the ships of his time, the ones that sailed on water that is, were full of.
*Korosho, deriymo: Well, shit.