Chapter 1: Black Tunnels
It was always the iciness of the atmosphere that he noticed first… numbing, burning cold that choked his lungs of breath.
Then it was long tunnel made of icy black stone. Patches of dim sunlight from long narrow chinks in the low ceiling illuminated the floor bleakly as freezing wind blew through the airshafts.
As he peered up into the one directly above him, the outline of a large stocky white bird swooped over the opening, a Takeh Candra. Though he never seen that kind of bird before or even heard of it, he knew what it was. Wispy white clouds drifted lazily over the jagged patch icy pale blue sky. If it had been warmer, it might have been nice and peaceful to walk through the tunnel, but something more than cold made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably. He lowered his eyes to look back down the passageway again.
A man in a blue Star Fleet uniform about two hundred feet away was walking down the tunnel. The man seemed absorbed with something in his hands as his boot heels echoed slightly as the sound waves bounced of the thick walls of stone. He followed the man, and was thinking about walking closer when suddenly the passageway in front exploded into fire. The man flew from the force of the blast in the now searing air with a scream and landed three inches from his feet. He immediately recognized the man; his gut lurched horribly and his blood ran cold.
Blood ran down McCoy's face were rock shards had virtually torn his left cheek into shreds. The rocks shards had shredded his blue shirt almost completely away and what was left of it was dark purple from gushing crimson. Deep wounds had slashed across his abdomen and chest, some deep enough to see the bare ribs before blood filled the gashes. Shards of stone had pierced through the skin and flesh like bullets and his right leg was lying at an awkward angle with the pants leg in tatters. The twisted, briefly melted tricorder still sat in the doctor's dislocated hand. He kneeled by Bones's head and with trembling fingers, checked for a pulse. His hand came away from his neck wet with blood. McCoy's eyelids fluttered weakly and he opened his eyes. The blue eyes were clouded with pain before they glazed over with shock.
"Jim?" he said weakly before he coughed, blood trickling over the corners his lips. Kirk knew what this meant but he could not take it in.
"I'm here, Bones," Kirk said, cradling his friend's head in his lap.
"Tell…tell Spock…and the others…"
"You can tell them yourself after your treated and back working!" Kirk almost growled, more confidently than he felt. He shoved the uneasiness away roughly and reached for his communicator, "We're going to beam aboard."
McCoy reached up with his good hand and closed his weak fingers on Jim's right forearm. He shook his head.
"My daughter… Joanna," he coughed as blood clogged his windpipe
"You'll see her when you get back to Earth!"
"Tell her…tell her…I…"
He went limp with his last exhaled breath. His eyes faded to dull grey as all life left his body.
"Bones!"
Kirk sat bolt upright in his bed, wide-awake and shivering as if in cold. He tried to calm himself down. This is the third time this week he had this recurring dream, and every time it became more vivid, more as if he was watching a tape, no, more like actually being there physically. He could vividly feel the icy cold of the planet surface and the scorching heat of the explosion, even the details slight pain in the eardrums of the noise and the warm wetness of the blood.
He swallowed hard to calm himself before sitting up and pressing the communicating button next to his bed.
"Kirk to Doctor McCoy."
"McCoy here, Jim."
Bones's voice sent a wave of relief through him. His friend was alive.
"Switching to visual," Kirk said, pressing the switch.
McCoy was sitting behind his desk in his quarters, and by the look of the stack of colorful square tapes and the clipboard-like report log, he was filling out some forgotten paperwork. He could not have looked better in health, except he looked tired and bored.
"Yes, Jim?"
McCoy watched Kirk on the screen. Kirk looked very white and sweat had beaded on his forehead.
"Jim, are you alright?" McCoy said, suddenly worried.
"Yes, Bones, I'm alright. Kirk ou…"
"Just a minute, Jim," the doctor said, quirking an eyebrow. "This is the third time this week you called me in the middle of the night. What's the matter?"
"It was just a bad dream, Kirk out."
Before McCoy could say anything more, the captain switched off his end of the communication line. Raising his eyebrow higher still, he went back to his paperwork, which he found it more difficult to focus on.
