Prologue

'An unidentified vessel has fired upon the ship. All crew are to report to battle stations.' The clear, inflectionless voice of Commander Soven cut through Spock like ice. Fear is an emotion, he thought to himself, squashing down the sudden spark of alarm that had jumped in his chest and began to traverse through his veins. I am Vulcan. I am in control. Such emotional outbursts, while discouraged, were tolerated in young Vulcan's while they were in the process of achieving full control. But he was 14 now, and could not be excused. Emotions in check, he made his way through the innards of the Explorer Mark 8.

The ship was devoted to the study of alien worlds and civilisations that had not yet discovered Inter-Planetary travel. It was currently orbiting around a planet that the native life-forms had deemed Earth.

Earth was a type-M planet, the third planet from the sun in an eight planet solar system. Unlike Vulcan's primarily desert terrain, 70.8% of Earth's surface was covered in water, although the most advanced species were land based. It had a denser atmosphere than Vulcan and a generally lower temperature. However, there were many variances in temperature and the planet had a wide variety of discrepancies in temperature and land forms. The diversity of the planet meant that the planet had an intriguing geology. Despite this, Spock found that his interests lay primarily with the species of Earth.

The most advanced species, humans, were a fascinating study. Although highly emotive and illogical, they had an advanced social order and codes that were similar enough to Vulcan's that the development of inter-planetary trade was an intriguing future prospect, once the species had achieved warp travel. Humans had a shorter life-span than Vulcans and were in a process of rapid industrialisation and scientific discovery. Vulcan scientists had estimated that humans would achieve inter-planetary travel in approximately 50 Terran years. They were unable to make a more accurate prediction as the species appeared to be incredibly unpredictable and their rate of development was prone to fluctuations.

There was some debate about the prospect of trading with Earth in the future. Some regarded the humans as too emotive and unpredictable. They appeared to be a primarily unaggressive race, but in their recent history there had been wars that had rivalled the Klingons in terms of scale and violence. Spock's father was one of the most prominent advocates for future Human/Vulcan relations, and certainly the most important. He was the chief science officer aboard the ship, and was investigating the subtleties in human culture through the use of observation and data that could be acquired through human technology. Spock was on board at his father's behest. Sarek wished for his son to follow the path that his father had set out for him, and hoped that one day he might be Ambassador to Earth. Many had stated the illogic of having a 14 year old on board the science vessel, but T'Pau had supported Sarek in the decision and as such the proposal could not be refuted. After all, nobody could accuse her of being illogical.

Spock had found that despite his reservations, he had become fully immersed in the study of Earth. The highly emotive nature and unpredictability of the native humans had turned them into a puzzle that Spock wanted to figure out. They did not follow the path of logic and the suppressing of emotion that was the Vulcan way, and yet they prospered. Vulcan's, when driven by emotion, had nearly destroyed themselves, and Spock yearned to find out why the highly emotive humans managed to survive. He had spent his time aboard the ship deep in contemplation and scientific curiosity. At this moment in time however, he was otherwise preoccupied.

The ship shuddered wildly as another missile contacted and Spock was flung from his feet. A sharp pain ran through his left arm. He ignored it and assessed the extent of the injuries he had attained.

A man dressed in the uniform of an engineer studied him apathetically. He had been travelling in the opposite direction to Spock-Spock calculated a 94.6% chance that he was going to the engineering section of the ship- and, unlike him, had managed to stay on his feet when the contact shook the ship. 'Do you require aid or medical attention?'

Spock saw that, although he was bleeding in several places, the wounds were superficial and he was in no danger from blood loss. 'I am functional and able to traverse without assistance.'

The engineer tilted his head slightly in recognition of Spock's statement and continued onwards at a hurried pace. Carefully, Spock got to his feet and continued towards the bridge. His father had been stationed there at the time of the attack and it was therefore the most logical place to search for him.

Spock couldn't hide his relief when he entered the bridge and saw his father's stern visage. It seemed that his father was relieved also, as his features softened slightly when he became aware of Spock's presence. His father had a large gash on his forehead that was weeping blood freely, but he merely wiped away the blood that was dripping into his eyes. The bridge was in a state of ordered chaos. Several stations and pieces of equipment had short-circuited and were sparking dangerously. A medic was tending to a female navigator who had severe burns on the left side of her body. Spock turned away from the angry green burns, trying to maintain his tenuous control. A support beam had collapsed under the attack and lay in the middle of the floor amidst a tangle of twisted metal and wires, some of which were active.

'Spock.' His father addressed him. 'You should not be here.'

Spock lifted his chin in a gesture close to defiance. 'I have no duties to tend to, and therefore offer myself as additional support. It is instrumental to get the control stations in working order and I could be of assistance in that respect.'

His father considered his proposal for 1.376 seconds. 'Logical.' This was all that was needed as an affirmative, so Spock made his way to the sizzling navigation console. A visual inspection of the work surface revealed that the damage there was superficial; leading him to the conclusion that it was the inner workings that had sustained damage, possibly from a release of electricity that occurred when the ship had been hit. He crawled under the station-his relatively small stature was fortuitous as it allowed for increased manoeuvrability-and removed the access panel to investigate its inner workings and internal damage. While it was unorthodox to have a 14 year old initiating repair on the bridge in the middle of a hostile situation, there were no regulations specifically against it and it would be illogical to refuse any help when the ship was in danger.

Spock didn't mention his ulterior motives for coming to the bridge, rather than assisting in engineering or helping the medics. A position here would allow him to remain close to his father, along with being privy to the ship's status and that of their assailant. While he was working on repairing the navigation console, he allocated a part of his attention to the voices behind him.

'What is the status of the ship?' Captain Syrrel queried.

His father answered. 'Shields are working at a capacity of 34.685%. Impulse power is functioning, but we have no warp speed. Weapons are fully functional. As of yet we have no visual view of the attacking vessel, yet sensors readings indicate that it is highly probable that the vessel is Klingon in origin, most likely a war bird.' Spock felt an unfamiliar dread crawl in his belly. Their vessel's primary function was in scientific exploration and analysis, and as such had low combat capabilities. Fighting alone against a Klingon ship, their odds of victory were approximately 1522 to 1, their odds of survival marginally higher. His inability to calculate the probability to a more accurate degree was demonstrative of his mental distress. He banished the thoughts from his mind and concentrated on the task at hand. He studied the innards of the console, hands moving purposefully through the tangle of wires and switches in a calculated dance, ignoring the sparks of electricity that stung his fingers.

'The ship is not responding to our hails on any frequencies. I will send out a distress signal momentarily, Captain.'

'Acknowledged, Lieutenant T'Paar. Helmsman, fire photon torpedoes 1 and 2. Target their weapons system.'

'Aye sir.'

'Captain, the vessel has-'The Lieutenant was cut off as a thunderous explosion shook the ship. Spock couldn't prevent a cry escaping when he was thrown against the sides of the enclosed space beneath the navigation console. Wires spluttered under him and a violent electric current ran from his psi-sensitive fingers through his body. A dull, numbing pain roared through his head. The ship was plunged into an unnatural twilight.

He lay still for a moment as his body refused to cooperate. Awareness of the outside world crept in gradually and he realised that his father was calling his name.

'I am functional.' He gasped over the pervading crackle of static that emanated from the distant communications console. Unfortunately, the navigation console was now beyond immediate repair, and so he gingerly slid out from the access panel. He took in the new state of the bridge with a disconnected gaze. In the past 36.744 seconds he had felt the deaths of 17 Vulcans aboard the ship. He saw that one of them had been on the bridge.

'Status,' the Captain demanded of Lieutenant T'Paar.

She was bent intently over the ravaged science station, face hidden behind a sleek curtain of hair, her left arm cradled awkwardly at her side, fractured or possibly broken. 'The ship is down to emergency backup power, Captain. Shields are at 0% capacity. We have no navigation, weapons or warp drive.' There was a slight but noticeable hesitation before she continued. 'The ships concealment has been compromised for a duration of 14.731 seconds. It is now functioning.'

A silence crept over the bridge as the implications of this set in. They had been using a rudimentary, low expenditure method of shielding that concealed the ship's existence from Earth's primitive sensors, although leaving it susceptible to the scanners of other ships. For a total of 14.731 seconds, the inhabitants of Earth had been aware of their vessels existence.

'Captain.' The tone of the Lieutenants voice commanded their attention. 'I am reading another ship in this sector. I am unable to determine its origin.'

Spock evaluated this new information. If it was assumed that the new ship was battle ready, there were several futures that could be ahead of them. If the ship was an ally of the attacking vessel then there was a 100% chance of their destruction. If the ship was an enemy of the attacking vessel, there was a chance that it could distract the vessel from attacking them, thereby providing them with an opportunity to escape. There was also the chance that the ship was responding to their hails and had come to render assistance, increasing their chances of survival exponentially. However, as of this moment the point was moot. They were both unable to ascertain the incomers status, and unable to launch a counter attack on their attackers or initiate evasive action. Speculation was unproductive.

The captain ordered them to do the only thing they could. 'As of now the primary function of every crewmember is to exact repairs on the ship and render medical attention to the critically wounded. Follow the option which is best suited to your abilities. Lieutenant T'Paar, you are to continue assessing the status of both ships'. Orders received, the bridge crew went about their respective duties with a concealed tension and anticipation of what could happen.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

'Captain.' T'Paars voice was dull with shock. 'The attacking vessel has been destroyed. The unknown vessel is aligning to board the ship.' The iron band that Spock hadn't realised was constricting his stomach released at the news. He heard the faint but unmistakable buzz of a transporter, and all eyes turned to the view screen, in front of which the outlines of three figured faded into existence. Once the transport was complete, three unknown Vulcans, one of which who was wearing a captain's robe, surveyed the room.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

After that, events transpired at a steadier pace. The ship that had assisted them was the Vulcan 'Surveyor Mark 5' which had been close enough to receive their distress signal. The ship that they had destroyed had been the Klingon 'Executioner'. The Surveyor had been able to drop out of warp behind it while their attention was focused on the destruction of the Explorer, taking them by surprise and enabling both their shields and weapons system before they were able to render a counter attack. The Klingons had responded to the hails and refused to be taken into custody. Rather than escape with the still capable warp drive, the ship had self-destructed. Spock mourned the unnecessary loss of lives-the price for Klingon honour. For now, they ignored the question of why the Klingons had attacked them in the first place and instead focused on immediate events.

The Explorer was for the moment irreparable. While it was possible that the ship could be salvaged once it had reached a spaceport, for now it was useless. A team of engineers on the Surveyor were devising a method for the Explorer to be moved by having it 'piggy-back' on the back of their ship. Even if the ship was unsalvageable it could not be allowed to remain as space debris so close to an underdeveloped planet. Instead, it was able to be pulled along behind the Surveyor as it moved along using impulse power. The Explorer was to be fully evacuated as it was estimated that life support would shut down completely in 4.726 hours.

A large proportion of the crew had been wounded to various degrees, and many required urgent medical attention. Spock had received numerous cuts but had sustained no serious injuries. As one of the few fully able Vulcans on board the Explorer Mark 8, he assisted in the treatment and transportation of the wounded. Due to the mass transportation of wounded and dead that would be required it was deemed efficient to enact repairs on the ships transporters. The energy expenditure required for the repair and use of the transporters would be less than the repeated use of the Surveyor's sole shuttlecraft, and it was necessary for the swift movement of those with serious injuries.

Spock had just finished tending to the wounds of a young science officer and was watching as she was beamed to the Surveyor. At the time of the attack she had been studying some of the various gases that were indigenous to Earth but unknown to Vulcans. The damage the ship had sustained had caused an outbreak of a substance that was harmful but not life threatening to Vulcans, and she had been affected. Spock was relieved that the harm she had sustained was not permanent. He turned around after watching her transportation to find Commander Soven standing behind him. The Commander had remained to oversee the treatment and transportation of wounded, and was waiting for Spock's full attention before addressing him. 'There is only a small number of wounded who still require attention. Your further presence aboard this ship is unnecessary. Prepare for transportation.'

Spock nodded in acknowledgement and made his way to the transporter platform. The engineer manning the transporter controls pulled the required lever in a carefully controlled motion, and Spock felt the familiar tingle of the transporter as his atoms were spread across the universe. He didn't notice the sparks from the transporter that succeeded his departure.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

As soon as Spock materialised he realised that he wasn't in either the Surveyor's or the Explorer's transporter room. He found himself eight feet in the air, and only had a moment to be shocked before his particles realigned themselves fully and he fell to the floor. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs, and for 7.49 seconds he could only concentrate on forcing his lungs to take in the necessary oxygen. He curled over onto his side, unable to stand at this moment in time, and surveyed his surroundings as best he could.

He was in an enclosed area, a rectangular room that was exceedingly different to Vulcan's gracefully curved buildings and peaked towers in design. A window, set high in the wall, shone a beam of sunlight into the room. Dust motes drifted lazily within the golden haze while the rest of the room was cast in a dim shadow. Spock realised from the presence of sunlight that he was planet-side. And considering that at the time of transportation the closest planet in the ships vicinity was Earth, then the logical explanation was-

He was unable to complete that thought. Blackness evaded the edges of his vision and his world-or whatever world he was on- seeped into darkness.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Sarek strode into the Surveyor's transporter room in anticipation of his son's arrival. His son had performed admirably in the combat situation and despite the illogic of such a sentiment, he could not contain the burst of pride that ran through him. His anticipation was diminished when he entered the room to find that the transporter platform was empty. The engineer manning the console turned to him as soon as he noticed his presence.

'Sir, the transporter appears to have malfunctioned. I am not reading your son's life signs on either of the ships.'

Fully shocked by this turn of events, although his face remained as impassive as always, Sarek contemplated the fate of his son. If he was not present on either ship, then by the process of elimination it was evident that he had either been transported to the planet below them, or into the vacuum of space. Alive or dead, it would be nearly impossible to find him.

'Sir.' Sarek saw that the engineer was patiently awaiting his orders.

'Instruct a team of engineers to ascertain the cause of the transporter malfunction. As there are few remaining Vulcans aboard the Explorer, the remaining necessary ship to ship transport should be conducted using a shuttlecraft.'

'Aye sir.'

He could not afford to think about Spock right now. Many Vulcans had died. He had felt their deaths, and mourned their loss along with the loss of Klingon lives. His duty took priority over his concern for his son, as his preoccupation with his son's status could affect the status of further Vulcans. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. It was logical.

And yet, despite the illogic of the act, Sarek could not prevent his mind from turning towards his son.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Authors note: I'm not too happy with this chapter but oh well. Also, this is set in the early 21st century, and I realise the improbability of Vulcan ships in this era using the same command system as 23rd century Starfleet, but I couldn't think of another way to have it. This classes as an AU, so just suspend your disbelief. The rest of the story will be set on Earth, so it doesn't matter much.

I have most of the next chapter written and a basic outline for where the story is heading, but this is my first attempt at a multi-chaptered fic and so a bit of feedback will probably make me write/update faster. Anyway, next chapter: Jim and Bones, and maybe some Uhura.