Mortality
The Enterprise was falling. Hell, she wasn't just falling, she was going into a death spiral. Her various systems-the engines, the thrusters, the life-support, the anti-gravity shields, were all lurching and choking. Kirk could hear her groan, as she fought and bucked against the plunge, even as the floor tilted and sent him tumbling down the shaft.
She was not only plummeting, but nearly capsizing in the deadly process. The ship didn't have long. Neither did her crew. Kirk swallowed back the bile in his throat, and heaved a grunt as he righted himself. He could hear the high whine of friction against her hull, the metallic clang and then the long, sickening scrape as the debris gouged out pieces of the ship.
The Enterprise was still fighting, though. She writhed against the force of gravity like a trapped animal, even as she continued to die.
Kirk could hear the terror, and the futile heroics of the crew, as they frantically attempted to get the systems back on line, even as the failing lights finally grew dark and went out.
Only an idiot, or a hero would even stand this close to a radioactive engine chamber. And only somebody with a death wish would actually go in. Kirk didn't know which one he was, and for a moment, regretted that he didn't have the time to decide. He knew that after the chamber door was open, he would only have minutes left to live, if that. He squinted at the thick glass barrier, and saw the heads of the warp drive, one knocked askew and pouring out the energy in a waterfall of white fire against the walls of the chamber.
Kirk halted for one long, painful second, letting his hands curl against the cold metal of the chamber door. He swallowed back the choke of tears, shut his eyes, and scraped up every last bit of resolve that he could cobble together in the last few minutes of his life. Numbly, he forced his sweating, shaking fingers to grip the chamber lock, and twisted.
Once he opened that door, and stepped in, he would be shutting himself into his own tomb. Hell, no wonder it felt like he was dragging boulders as he grimaced, and wrenched the door open with a clang. The echo of metal striking metal thundered through the depths of the Enterprise as he shut his eyes, and fell into the fire.
The white wall of heat was what hit him first. A sparkle of luminous light, like a miniature supernova sent out shafts of pure energy. He shoved a hand over his eyes, nearly blinded by the brilliance. Here, the chamber walls soared upward and downward into a huge, nearly circular formation, with the gigantic titanium crossbeams forming the skeleton of the ship.
Kirk squinted. He was literally in the belly of the beast.
It was a brutally simple solution, really. One that would unfortunately involve Kirk either being fried alive, or burnt to a smoldering pile of ash. The warp core was out of alignment. It had to be put back into place to resurrect the ship. That was it. That was why he was here.
He could see the two glowing reactors heads, their burning beams twisted away from each other. All that needed to be done was to move both ends to face each other again, and power up the Enterprise. He didn't even know if his body could withstand the radiation that was pouring out from the bleeding core as it was. He didn't have long. He didn't need that long.
He leapt high, and swung himself into the air, fingers brushing the cold coil of metal that held the reactor head directly over the warp core.
He kicked out, arched his back, and slammed his boot heels against the head.
The damn thing didn't budge. He might as well be kicking a brick wall.
He exhaled a shaking breath, swung himself wider, and heaved his heels into the edge of the reactor, nearly toppling into the pool of heat below him.
If he fell in, he had no way of knowing if he'd just dissolve into ash, or light up like a torch.
Kirk shook his head to get rid of the sickening thought, and kicked out again. His boots slammed into the reactor head, and finally yielded a bit.
Cursing, Kirk pulled himself up, slid himself downward, and rocked himself high until he was swinging like a pendulum. He threw his whole body weight into the leap, and he collided with the reactor like a cannon ball.
He heard the groan of metal as the reactor head lurched back into alignment.
He felt the brilliant explosion wash over his skin in one searing wave, as the blast sent him toppling into the floor of the chamber.
His spine caught the brunt of the blow, followed by the rest of him slamming into the cold, unyielding metal of the chamber wall. Even his very bones ached from the collision, as he rolled downward, and landed in a sprawled heap on the floor. Stunned, aching, and weirdly numb at the same time, he dragged his head up from the cushion of his splayed arms to squint stupidly at the muted glow.
By then, the ship had stopped her plummet. He could feel the erratic tilt suddenly reverse, as she bucked and righted herself.
Safe. He breathed out with another choke. They're safe.
He slumped against the wall, and he would have slithered to the floor without its support at his back. Shutting his eyes, he heaved in a shaking, disbelieving breath.
His thoughts raced, as his heart slowed, and he couldn't stop the damn, useless gasping for breath.
My guts are rotting out from this radiation, I can feel everything inside dissolving from the acid, and it hurts….Please, please, please,
The breath lodged in his throat, like a boulder. His lungs contracted violently, twisting inwardly, heaving uselessly. The agony throbbed into a dull ache. Had he broken anything? Hell, there was so much wrong with him that a few broken bones were the least of his troubles now.
He choked on the thinning air, felt the breath claw like a trapped animal, as it finally escaped with a hiss through his clenched teeth.
Was it like being strangled, or drowning? Kirk didn't know. Hell, he couldn't decide, and at this point, it no longer mattered. There was no rope. There was no noose, there was nothing there at all that can hurt this much, nothing but the poison he instinctively breathed in because there was nothing else for his tortured instincts to do.
Drowning? There was no water here. There was nothing at all but the glare of alabaster lights, the cold glass at his palm, the overwhelming hum of the reactor and the brutal, bitter knowing that his last moments would be here.
He breathed again, a strangled, sick sound that should have been a scream, but came out as a whimpered choke. His breath burbled up like lava, it seared so much.
At this point, even the tears burned.
His languid thoughts floated like bubbles and collided with each other. There was a weird, heavy liquid pressure in his lungs, and he didn't know if it's because he was bleeding internally, if his guts had been dissolved from the radiation, or if the gas he breathed was screwing with his thoughts.
He blinked back the wet that suddenly blurred the world, and squinted at the pane of glass that separated him from the world he saved and lost.
It was strange, to stare at the porthole, to see the gloaming lights, the lurching churn of the ship's backup generators roaring to life again. For a moment, he felt like a goldfish staring out at the world through the glass of a tank
And he felt the urge to vomit when the finality hit him. He had just shut himself up in his own tomb.
To be continued…
