A/N: This scene will serve as the jumping-off point for two separate novels. The first novel explores what might happen if this incident were to occur at the beginning of Kirk's first five-year mission as captain of the Enterprise. The second novel asks what the results might be if this incident were to happen at the end of the Enterprise's first five-year mission under Captain Kirk. In order to allow the same scene to serve equally well in two vastly different time periods, any information orienting the reader to its position within that first five-year mission has been deliberately removed, the scene distilled down to its barest essence, only the facts reported.

It started on Starbase 8. The Enterprise had been assigned to convey a diplomatic convoy of five ambassadors and their aides to treaty negotiations on Kappos Two. The Artisians and the Simans were ready to end their 30-year war, and the Federation Council had agreed to send five members to act as arbiters.

The Enterprise had a tight deadline for delivering the convoy: only 12 hours to complete a 9-hour trip and a tedious 2-hour shuttlecraft ride to the planet's surface. Neither transporters nor sensors could penetrate Kappos Two's atmosphere, meaning that all transportation to and from the surface was relegated to a hand-piloted shuttlecraft on impulse power.

The 9-hour trip to Kappos Two went smoothly, and Kirk might have enjoyed it if he hadn't been feeling lousy. He'd begun feeling ill while still docked at the starbase, and the longer he waited the weaker he felt. By the time his two pilots had ushered the 10-person convoy onto the Enterprise's high-capacity shuttlecraft, the Kepler, and launched the craft, Kirk had finally conceded that a trip to sickbay was necessary.

"You look like half a mile of bad road." McCoy motioned toward the exam table.

"Then I'm bluffing, because I feel like two."

Kirk eased onto the reclining table and McCoy tilted it flat, glancing up to watch the readings above the bed. "High fever and elevated K3 levels. That would be pain in your arms and legs and a severe headache, if I'm not mistaken. Probably generalized weakness too. How am I doing so far, Captain?"

Kirk nodded. "You already have a diagnosis?"

"Not that hard, given your history and the symptoms. You're having a relapse of Vegan choriomeningitis."

"How is that possible? I mean, I know the micro-organisms are still in my blood, but—"

"That's all it takes. Fortunately—unlike the initial infections—relapses aren't life-threatening. But they can still have very serious consequences if not treated within 24 hours, including permanent genetic restructuring. When did you start feeling sick?"

"About an hour before we left Starbase 8."

"Then we're already halfway into your 24-hour treatment window. I need to get started right away."

Kirk nodded, still processing the information. Vegan choriomeningitis. He'd first come down with it the summer he was six. Mostly, what he remembered from that incident were the stories he'd heard from his mother. He'd been too sick at the time to remember much on his own, other than a few fragmented memories here and there. But he suspected that his aversion to medical facilities may have started then.

He was still laying on McCoy's table when the red alert light on the opposite wall began to flash. Fueled by an adrenaline surge, he rolled off the bed and over to the intercom, arriving just as it whistled and Spock called for him. "Kirk here. What's the red alert for, Commander?"

"Captain, your presence on the bridge is required immediately. The Kepler has just been overtaken."

"On my way." Kirk palmed off the intercom and headed for the sickbay door, only to find McCoy trailing after him, portable med kit in hand. "I don't suppose you can treat me on the bridge."

"No, but I can at least monitor your condition."

Schurian pirates had beamed themselves aboard the Kepler just before the shuttle entered Kappos Two's upper atmosphere. Without the transporter or sensors, the Enterprise couldn't beam the ambassadors off of the shuttle or use a tractor beam to tow the shuttle out of the atmosphere. They were stuck playing the pirates' game.

And so began what turned out to be a 13-hour standoff. The Schurian pirates stood to profit from prolonging the war between the Artisians and Simans. By kidnapping the ambassadors, they had hoped to instigate the two sides to blame one another and therefore destroy any possibility of peace. When it became clear that—somehow, by what can only be described as a miracle—that wasn't going to happen, they settled for the next best thing: demanding ransom from the Federation Council, to be paid in the form of unrefined dilithium crystals.

The standoff lasted 13 hours not because the Schurians were devious or clever, but because they were patient. In her message to Starfleet conveying the pirates' demand for ransom, Uhura had encrypted a request for assistance and the Schurians were none the wiser. Starfleet, on behalf of the Federation Council, agreed to deliver the ransom in 13 hours, which was the soonest that the USS Cochrane could reach Kappos Two. The Schurians agreed to wait but demanded that the Enterprise maintain an open audio-visual channel with the Kepler for the duration, leaving the bridge on lock-down.

Within an hour of returning to the bridge, with the channel already open and the Schurians watching, Kirk noticed his vision getting blurry. Standing behind the command chair, medical tricorder and hand scanner hidden from view, McCoy could monitor Kirk's condition regularly, which meant it was only a matter of time before he picked up on the change. When he did, he reached for Kirk's shoulder. Kirk shrugged him off, and McCoy didn't try again.

For the next twelve hours, Kirk marked the deterioration in his vision by how much or little he could see of both the Kepler's occupants and his own bridge crew. At first, he could see all fourteen figures on the Kepler and most of his bridge crew but not the details of their clothing. Colors skewed, and faces faded quickly. So did the pirates' gestures and body language. Spock, on the outer edge of his peripheral vision, faded into a shadow and then disappeared.

He could still make out the bodies of the shuttle's pilots because they were closest on the screen and therefore largest, and he could just trace the motion of the pirates as they roamed in and out of view. The center of the screen eventually developed wavy patches, which then expanded into holes that eclipsed parts of bodies and faces, leaving behind the same void that had overtaken Spock.

Directly in front of him, Leslie and Sulu went next, bright colors and sharp lines of uniforms fading into uneven shadows. He could still tell that the perimeter of the viewscreen was lit but couldn't see what was happening on the screen. Eventually, all of it—Leslie and Sulu and what little remained of the viewscreen—disappeared into the same faintly-lit void.

The bridge's lights had seemed blindingly bright and glary at first, and all he wanted to do was shut his eyes. He resisted because he didn't want the gesture to be misinterpreted, nor could he afford to let the Schurians know that he was having problems with his vision. Fortunately, the blinding glare started to disappear as the light itself faded, and with it his headache also dissipated for the first time in 24 hours.

Behind the command chair, McCoy shifted his weight periodically because he'd been standing in the same position for almost half a day, and once an hour he deployed the hand scanner behind Kirk's head. Because the ordeal had dragged on so long, occasionally the other officers moved just enough to stretch stiff muscles—Uhura, Scott, even Spock—but otherwise silence reigned over the bridge.

McCoy deployed his scanner again just as Kirk heard—or thought he heard—something faint coming from the speakers. He waved McCoy off, and McCoy stopped to let him listen. There! He heard it again: a faint clunk from somewhere outside the shuttlecraft's hull.

That would be the Cochrane attaching itself to the shuttlecraft by way of a grappler, taking advantage of the fact that the craft's sensors were useless to detect their approach. The Cochrane was far from the most advanced ship in the Fleet—a lot of her technology was antiquated by modern standards—but just like everyone else, she made good use of what she had. No tractor beams? Grapplers had the twin advantages of being both unexpected and completely mechanical, not reliant on sensors. With the grappler in place, they could begin towing the Kepler out of the atmosphere.

"Harma." That was the Schurian pirates' leader, a young boy barely old enough to procreate but apparently plenty old enough to get his hands on the sophisticated weapons discarded by the no-longer-warring factions. "You need to end this before everyone—including yourself—dies from lack of oxygen. The shuttlecraft's life support system can't support that many passengers for more than fourteen hours without also draining the fuel system."

"You lie," the Schurian leader hissed. "We studied your schematics, and we know that we have another hour. We have demanded our price, and the Federation Council has agreed to pay it. They have one more hour to deliver the ransom. We can wait."

Harma was right about the life support system, but he had the time frame wrong. While he was talking, the whine of a transporter announced that the Cochrane's rescue team had boarded the shuttlecraft.

"Actually, you can't wait. Your time just ran out."

"Harma!" This came from the other Schurian, apparently at the back of the shuttle, his voice faint.

"No one move. Captain Jack Scott, USS Cochrane. Harma, you and your crew are under arrest. Captain Kirk, we'll release our grapplers from your shuttle as soon as we've transported the Schurians to our vessel."

"Thank you, Captain."

"My pleasure." Their transporter whined again, then for a brief moment the shuttlecraft was silent.

Bodies began to move, both on the shuttle and around Kirk as the bridge officers scrambled back to their instruments. Kirk stayed focused because he had no other choice. "Ensign Davis."

"Yes, sir."

"Are you and Ensign Hollbrook able to pilot the Kepler into the shuttle bay once the grapplers are released?"

"Yes, sir." A split second later: "Grapplers have been released. We're clear to return to the Enterprise."

"I'll meet you in the shuttle bay. Good work, both of you."

"Thank you, sir. See you soon."

As soon as Uhura's station signaled that the hailing frequency was finally closed, Kirk eased forward in the command chair, giving his long-unused muscles a chance to reawaken. McCoy moved down from behind the chair to its port side and touched his arm, not grabbing but letting Kirk know he was there. Kirk nodded but waved him off. "Spock."

Boots jogged down to the command platform. "You are injured." It wasn't a question. "I have been aware of that fact for approximately the last 11 hours and 43 minutes, but I have been unable to ascertain the nature of the problem."

"It's his eyes. He was having a relapse of Vegan choriomeningitis when this whole mess started. It's affected his vision."

Around the bridge, the commotion caused by the release of 13 hours of complete inactivity spiraled to a halt again. What resumed was only a faint rustle of fabrics, whispered voices, a gasp or two.

"Forget the shuttlecraft and the shuttle bay, Captain." McCoy reached for Kirk again, this time touching his shoulder. "I need to get you to sickbay to try to save whatever vision you've got left. We're close enough to the 24-hour window that maybe I can still do something."

Kirk reached up to grab the hand on his shoulder, squeezing it to thank McCoy even as he slid out from under it. "I will, Doctor, but first I need to say a few words to Ensigns Davis and Hollbrook and to the diplomatic convoy. They've been through a terrible ordeal. They deserve at least that much from me."

"Captain—"

"We have all the time in the universe, Doctor. There's nothing left to save."

"Nothing?" McCoy deployed the hand scanner again.

Kirk shook his head, then held his hand out in McCoy's direction. "A little light, maybe, but even that's fading. Just help me get down to the shuttle bay. After I'm done there, you can have me for as long as you want me, no arguments. You have my word."

McCoy hesitated, then pressed the upper part of his arm against Kirk's outstretched hand. "All right, all right. Grab onto my arm."

"Thank you. Spock, you have the bridge."

Instead, Spock fell into rank on Kirk's other side as McCoy moved toward the turbo lift. "Respectfully, Captain—I wish to accompany you." His voice was rough and he made no attempt to hide it.

"Yes, of course. Mr. Scott, you'll mind the bridge."

"Aye, sir."

McCoy stopped barely a meter from the command chair. "We're at the steps, but I won't go until you say you're ready. If you need the railing—"

Kirk shook his head. "I'm all right. Go ahead."

McCoy stepped forward onto the first stair, then paused to give Kirk a chance to follow, then repeated it for the second step. On the main level, he shifted his arm behind his back and glanced over his shoulder, presumably checking the status of his passenger. "Not really wide enough for both of us at once. You'd better get behind me."

Kirk sidestepped behind McCoy's body and felt his hip brush against the railing. Spock's boots followed close behind.

Once they made it up the steps, just as the turbo lift doors slid open ahead of them, the bridge crew behind them exploded into applause. Everyone was still clapping when the doors closed behind the three of them.

Letting go of McCoy's arm, Kirk sank against the back wall of the lift and let Spock run the turbo lift control. He held onto the railing and closed his eyes, feeling the motion of the car as it zigzagged past floors and across levels to the shuttle bay. "Does somebody want to tell me why they were clapping?"

"I believe they were clapping, Captain, because you saved twelve innocent lives." Spock's voice was still rough, although he seemed to be steadying it. "Your selfless presence and efforts ensured that all twelve Federation lives on board the shuttlecraft returned unharmed."

"Captain, listen to me." McCoy touched Kirk's shoulder, effectively grabbing his attention and giving him somewhere to focus. "The only person who lost anything in this whole ordeal was you."