Jim hit the ground with his shoulders curving into a rough but practiced roll, wrapped his fingers around a feverishly hot throat in an effort to fend off snapping jaws, jammed his phaser beneath a bony rib cage to deliver a well-placed stun blast, and - in the brief moment between shoving the slumped body aside and being yanked to his feet by Spock - wondered why he had ever though this day might proceed smoothly.
The planet at which the U.S.S. Enterprise had arrived some eight days prior – known as Z-47 Qi Delta within official channels, but dubbed Paradiso by its fond settlers - was situated on the outskirts of known space. It was new enough that the only people that as yet occupied it were the scientists and their kin situated on the Starfleet research base, and interesting enough in its possession of some promising healing compounds that Starfleet had sent its flagship to assist in further research and collect some promising samples.
Upon arrival at the planet, Jim had beamed down with his First Officer and a science team to discover that the planet lived up to its nickname. The trees surrounding the research base were a lush motley of greens, the air was clean and the surrounding mountains tinged a pleasant blue beneath the light of the two suns. A paradise indeed.
The Chief Scientist on base was an incredibly thin, ruffled looking man who nevertheless radiated a sense of boundless energy. Within minutes of their arrival, he regaling them with an excited stream of data regarding their advancements with the new compounds, and Jim had left Spock to wade through it in his own time. The Vulcan was doing a good job of burying his enthusiasm for the project under a layer of stoic professionalism, but Jim could read it in the attentive tilt of his head and the occasional twitch in his long, thin fingers – as if he were itching to grab the displayed samples straight away and haul them off to his own lab for analysis.
Jim had taken a short walk to familiarise himself with the compound and its surrounds. With every new glimpse of the wonders the planet had to offer – such as the deep purple flowers that hummed like taut wires in the gentle breeze, or the iridescent lizard-like creatures that soaked in the pools of sun between the blue-black rocks – he found himself more regretful that he could not allow a greater number of his crew leave to explore this world. The scientists had insisted on minimal on-planet traffic in order to preserve the balance of an environment still under study. Though disappointing, Jim understood their concerns.
Upon his return, Jim had found Spock ready to return to the ship with a set of samples to be analysed using the superior equipment available in the Enterprise labs. A handful of their scientists were left at the compound to assist the local researchers with on-site studies. Jim had left the planet light-hearted and optimistic about the mission's outcomes.
Three days later, a massive storm had rolled in over the region in which the compound was located. Ionic disturbances in the upper atmosphere had made communications impossible, and the twice-daily reports that had been coming in from the Enterprise scientists at the research base had ground to an abrupt halt. The situation was deemed inconvenient, but not a cause for any real concern. Jim had conferred with Spock, and they had agreed that if the storm exceeded five days, they would pursue alternative means of making contact with the base.
Midway through the sixth day, the storm had begun to dissipate. The next twenty-four hours were spent trying to get hold of the base with increasing urgency. Their signal had not appeared to be blocked in any way, and yet with the exception of one recorded message dated three days prior, there was only silence from below. The message had been a chaotic babble, delivered by one of the Enterprise scientists, which failed to communicate much more than incoherent ramblings regarding the spread of a sickness among the base's occupants, and the man's crippling fear.
And so a team comprised of Jim, Spock, Bones – who had insisted that he accompany them in the interest of addressing claims of a sickness, but was no doubt motivated more by a desire to keep a close eye on his injury-prone friend – and four security personnel had beamed down in full biosuits with the intention of establishing what had occurred under the cover of the storm. They were carrying phasers, medical supplies and a warning from Scotty that residual disturbances in the upper atmosphere could make beam outs from any but a few designated locations incredibly difficult. They had anticipated a base full of ill, vulnerable people.
They had been wrong.
Within minutes of arriving on the surface, it became clear that things had changed drastically during the break in communication. The front-right section of the research base was a burnt-out husk, and somewhere on the other side of the compound an alarm wailed, shrill and insistent. The entrance to the base was open, doors askew in a manner that rendered the entire image reminiscent of an open wound. The wall to the right of the entrance was covered in rust-brown streaks that were undoubtedly dried blood, and the head scientist who had greeted them so enthusiastically only days before was lying, stretched out, a few feet away.
Jim had seen many corpses in his time as a Starfleet Captain, but even he had not been unaffected by the sight the man's body made. His jaw was grotesquely unhinged, gaping up at the sky, and his ribs appeared to have been broken open to reveal a ravaged chest cavity. One of the iridescent green lizards Jim had spotted before was nestled within it. As they had approached, it had lifted a snout that glistened wetly.
It had been at this time, as McCoy choked down a disgusted exclamation and the rest of them stood alert with phasers primed, that the remainder of the base's occupants had revealed themselves. They burst forth from the shadows of the surrounding trees and base entrance, and for one vital moment, Jim had stood frozen, transfixed by the sight they made. Clothes – Starfleet uniforms and regular lab apparel – were torn and bloody, flesh ripped and sweat-slick, eyes reflecting the light as if covered in cataracts, and most of them had blood between their teeth and lining the creases of their lower jaws. The violence of their intentions had been evident in the gnash of their teeth and inhuman wildness in their eyes.
Spock and Jim had reacted first, stunning the nearest attackers before they could come within reaching distance. The other officers had begun responding immediately after, but it quickly became clear that the number of infected was greater than they were equipped to handle. Particularly when they were unable to risk exposure to whatever had affected the surface population.
And so it had come to this: Jim sprinting through the trees with Spock on his one side and McCoy cursing breathlessly on his other. Whatever disease the locals were suffering from, it clearly hindered neither their speed, nor their dexterity, and any ground gained on them had been hard won. Jim fired haphazardly over his shoulder in an effort to slow their fastest pursuers. When a crash of underbrush followed his latest shot, he grinned.
"Four," he huffed, shooting a quick grin Spock's way as he leapt over a particularly tangled pile of brush.
"There is no logic in attempting to compete in a situation where the outcomes of the competition are to our mutual benefit, Captain," stated Spock. His breath was light and controlled, despite their swift pace, and Jim envied him for it.
"You only say that because…if we were competing…I'd win," quipped Jim between breaths.
"That is incorrect, Captain," countered Spock, and fired over his shoulder, managing to stun one of their pursuers and send him careening into the man behind him. The glance he cast Jim's way managed to be smug even through several layers of Vulcan control and a biosuit mask.
"If you two…would quit your flirting…and focus on…getting us off...this bloody planet?" growled McCoy. Beneath his mask, his face was bright red and his breath came in harsh pants.
Jim told himself that the reason he didn't stick his tongue out at his irascible best friend was because he was a Starfleet Captain, with poise and dignity, and not because he could not manage the gesture without turning his head and tripping flat on his face.
As it was, he huffed out, "Ah come on…Bones…you know you're…the only one for me." Then he concentrated on calling up the charts they had examined before beaming down in his minds eye, and continued, " 'cording to…the calculations Scotty showed us…nearest beam up point…should be 'bout…a click North. Spock?"
"Approximately 0.924 km, Captain. Barring additional obstacles, we should arrive in 7.56 minutes."
"Keep it to…one decimal point when…fleeing, Spock," said Jim, deftly dodging a low-hanging tree branch.
"Of course, Captain."
They had gained some ground, and Jim was just beginning to think that they were likely to make it off-planet with everyone intact when Ensign Mathers – one of the security personnel – caught his ankle in a tangle of tree roots and went down hard. He forced himself upright swiftly, but promptly cried out in pain as his left ankle buckled and gave way.
"Stay down, you idiot," McCoy growled as the man attempted to rise again. He grasped the offending limb none too gently, deaf to the Ensign's moans of pain.
"Biosuit limits my examination somewhat, Jim, but I can tell you this is broken," said McCoy grimly after a moment's manoeuvring. His hands were already busy pulling together a rough splint around the ankle.
Jim huffed a violent Andorian expletive. It was an Andorian-curse-worthy crisis - he saved his Romulan curses for truly shitty situations.
"Strap him quick, Bones. We aren't that far ahead of these guys, and I'd prefer to be off-planet before dinner. Theirs, that is."
"Damn right," agreed McCoy fervently, before descending into familiar mutters containing words like 'space' and 'death' and 'damn-fool Captains-of-the-Obvious'. Jim grinned despite himself.
The bio-suit was ill-suited to the act of fleeing, and below its stiff layers Jim's skin was slick with sweat. He almost raised a hand to swipe it through his hair, only to recall at the last moment that the gesture was hindered by the hood and mask.
He shifted closer to Spock, who was focused intently on his communicator. He looked up at Jim's approach, and Jim could see the faintest flush of green in his cheeks from the exertion.
"According to Mr Scott, there is location 0.212km from our current position that would serve as an adequate beam-up point."
"Decimals, Spock," warned Jim, but his smile belied his words.
"We are not currently fleeing, Captain," deadpanned Spock, and Jim's smile grew to a grin. He continued, "As the aforementioned beam-up point is closer than our original destination, and Ensign Mather's mobility has been reduced, I would recommend that we make haste to that location when we resume."
"Brilliant suggestion, Spock," responded Jim. "Top marks."
Spock's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, no doubt to refute the relevance of marks in this context, but was interrupted by a vicious snarl as a man with in torn science blues with clawed and blood-crusted fingers launched himself from the underbrush to their left. He made it barely two feet before Jim and Spock's dual stun blasts struck him in the chest, but his arrival signalled the end of their reprieve.
"Bones," called Jim, checking his phaser and settling into a defensive stance. "I need you wrapped up and ready to go in the next thirty seconds. Spock, head over there and watch his back 'til we head on. You'll be assisting Ensign Mather's to the beam-up point."
"Yes, Captain," responded Spock promptly, and moved away. Jim stunned the next two attackers that burst from the surrounding bushes and continued to bark instructions.
"Ensigns Cole, Rapsada, you will run ahead and ensure our path to the beam-up point is clear. Co-ordinate with Scotty via communicator and be ready to leave the instant we arrive. Understood?"
Two security personnel nodded in unison with a firm, "Aye, sir." Then they were gone.
Jim turned and was relieved to see Bones rising from his position at Mather's side. He quickly headed over and grasped the doctor's shoulder.
"Bones, start heading towards the beam-out point with Lieutenant Bryne." The remaining officer stepped forward with a nod, phaser poised at her side. "Spock and I will follow with Ensign Mathers."
McCoy's eyes flashed, and Jim could see that he was preparing to argue, so he allowed his face to settle into firm and unforgiving lines. "That's an order, Bones. Move out."
McCoy turned and marched away without another word, but Jim knew he would find a way to show his displeasure later. Probably with hyposprays.
Jim turned just as Spock was manoeuvring Mather's onto his feet. In the split second when his attention was split between McCoy's retreating back and his First Officer, a set of three rabid infected barrelled out of the underbrush.
Jim managed to stun two swiftly, but the third was blocked by Spock and Mather's bodies, and he could not get a clear shot. Spock was attempting to turn and face the threat, but Mathers – clearly panicked by the abrupt turn of events – had lost his balance again and twisted his fists into Spock's science blues in an effort to remain upright. This in turn pulled Spock off balance for a vital few seconds, while blocking the arm holding his phaser from swinging around.
Jim cursed and reacted quickly. He reached Spock and Mather's tangled forms in the space of a single stride, and yanked them out of the way in the same instant that their slavering attacker launched himself at the space they had occupied before. A space now occupied by Jim.
Jim went down hard, the back of his head smacking against the ground hard enough to make his teeth clack together. Though slightly dazed, he threw his arm up in an automatic bid to keep his assailant's snapping jaws away from his face and neck. In the same instant, he attempted to bring his phaser arm up to stun the man, but the limb was firmly tucked between their two bodies, and he could not fire for fear of hitting himself.
He could see the hot, humid breath of his attacker fogging the mask of his biosuit as he snapped ineffectually and strained against his arm. The man writhed, clearly frustrated by being so near to his prey and unable to bite. Jim felt fingers dig into the flesh of his exposed inner arm, followed by a sharp pain that caused him to yelp despite himself.
In the next instant, the weight on his arm and torso was removed. He caught a glimpse of Spock's face, a terrifying snarl twisting his normally blank features, before both Spock and attacker moved out of his range of sight. He scrambled to his feet in time to see Spock hurl the man's form against a tree with considerable force. Despite this, the man made a brief attempt at rising again before Spock's stun blast struck him in the chest. He collapsed and remained still.
In the next instant, Spock turned concerned eyes on Jim and took half a step in his direction, hands rising in a gesture that looked uncommonly uncontrolled. "Captain, are you-?"
"Fine, Spock," assured Jim, raising his unhurt arm in a gesture that halted the Vulcan's approach. "Think we've finally outstayed our welcome, yes? Grab Mather's and let's blow this joint."
Spock's forehead remained creased, his eyes flicking to Jim repeatedly even as he hauled Mathers to his feet once more. However, when they started moving, he quickly shifted his focus to navigating the terrain with the Ensign's weight against one side. They caught up to McCoy and Lieutenant Bryne quickly – Jim suspected that Bones had been stalling with just such an outcome in mind – and Bryne, McCoy and Jim focused on throwing off their pursuers with a steady stream of phaser fire.
Jim fell slightly behind as they approached the beam-up point. He had two motives for this. The first was to keep an eye on the trees behind them and stun any pursuers who got to close. The second was to evaluate the damage done to his arm.
The pain had dulled considerably in the short moments since his tumble with the infected, but his inner forearm still throbbed in a way that suggested more than just bruising. Jim glanced down to have his worst fears confirmed. The material of his biosuit was torn, and he could just see three ragged wounds in his forearm where his attacker's sharp fingernails had torn through the skin. Blood had already soaked into the – thankfully red – material of the suit.
Had to get in a tussle with the one scientist with a pedi, though Jim with grim amusement. In truth, he strongly suspected that augmented strength was a side effect of whatever was affecting the people on planet. Biosuit material did not tear easily.
Jim kept his arm tucked tightly against his side. His biosuit has been compromised, and he knew immediately that he would not be returning to the ship. Even were it not protocol to keep all unknown diseases and contaminants off ship until readily treatable, he could never in good conscience expose his crew to that kind of risk.
Unfortunately, that same crew was made up of the horribly loyal sort that would place themselves in mortal peril without any hesitation rather than leave him behind on a hostile and disease-ridden planet. For the most part, it was a trait he found touching – and, secretly, incredibly humbling – but in instances such as this it caused him only frustration. Bones alone would attach himself to Jim with implacable finality if he got even an inkling that anything was amiss, and Spock…
So Jim kept his wound out of sight. Under the cover of the other's phaser fire, he sent off hasty instructions to the ship via his communicator and demanded, "Have you got that, Scotty?"
The Scotsman had the beginnings of trepidation in his voice as he replied, "Aye, Cap'n, but-"
"No time for buts, Scotty – buts are for after the immediate threat of painful death has passed. We'll be coming up on the beam-up point any second now. Stand by for my command."
"Aye, sir."
As they burst forth into a small clearing amid the trees, Jim could see Cole and Rapsada standing slightly elevated among a scattering of boulders. The two had their phasers up and were shooting over their crewmates' heads before Jim had even cleared the shadows of the trees.
Jim was the last to skid to a stop beside the waiting Ensigns. He raised his communicator to his lips, voice clear and controlled despite everything.
"Prepare for beam up, Scotty," he demanded.
"Aye, Sir. Six to beam up on your command."
Jim saw Spock's brow crease.
"Beam them up, Scotty," he intoned grimly.
In the split second before the matter stream completely obscured his features, Jim saw Spock's head whip around, dark eyes fixing on him with unmistakable horror.
Then they were gone, and Jim was left standing alone in the clearing on an unfamiliar world, the yaps and growls of savage men rising behind him.
He swore vehemently in Romulan.
