No one has time for those...who will only stand and wait...

The low gray vessel coasts through space, a skipped rock on a dark pool but without the jerking hops or astrals of water, as it resolutely ignores the Enterprise's hails. Uhura has not yet alerted Kirk to the security clearance they'd received moments before Chekov's arbitrary sweeps had picked up the unassuming transport as it approached on their starboard anterior, but as the captain brings up an image of the vessel on the main view screen, he begins to understand this is not a shipment of cargo as he'd first guessed. He bites his tongue thoughtfully as his eyebrow quirks, and whatever argument Bones might be trying pursue is lost as he realizes Jim isn't listening to him anymore. Rather, he refocuses his attention on what they now have to deal with.

"Looks like a crew transport," the doctor remarks gruffly, "But I don't remember any personnel requests."

"Nor do I," Spock adds, giving McCoy a look that clearly says, 'It's not your job to do that, now is it, doctor?'

"Uhura, do we have anything on them?" Kirk asks, indicating the vessel with a vague gesture as he swivels in his chair to acknowledge his communications specialist.

Inhaling sharply and glancing furtively at Scotty once again, Uhura replies after a beat: "No sir."

It's a bold-faced lie, but Scotty doesn't call her on it.

The elder Vulcan has already left the bridge, his absence seemingly unnoticed. Only Uhura and Scotty know his intentions, the message he's left with them going undelivered, but its purpose is largely to hold off further inquiry and keep the rest of the crew from interfering with his business. Uhura's lie facilitates his wishes.

"Well, has anyone hailed them?" Kirk asks testily. "Or have they sent us any communication?"

"How could they get out this far without anybody else noticing?" Sulu mutters to himself, his face turning a slight pout as he leans forward on his elbows. Despite his low tone, the captain picks up on his words.

"That too," Kirk adds, getting out of his seat with all the nervous energy the ship's idling has added to his current irritation. He's not quite pacing, but McCoy is aware that Jim's behavior is bordering on the manic, and suddenly wishes he'd followed through on his threat to carry tranquilizers on his person serially.

"It is possible, captain, that this is simply a routine inspection of our hull," Spock remarks in what can be called the Vulcan equivalent of a sigh. "Perhaps they are, as you would say, killing two birds with one stone: Why make a complete waste of our time when they could greatly decrease our future maintenance requirements by performing a routine check now?"

"I'm pretty sure they'd have sent a whole terabyte of forms for us to sort through if that was the case, commander," McCoy counters on Jim's part, ignoring Spock's repertoire of condescending stares. Looking back at the captain, he notes that Jim is standing between Sulu and Chekov with his hands on his hips, probably in his own little universe. He's probably not hearing a damn word they're saying...

"Ensign, run a quick bio-scan of that shuttle, if they're close enough," Kirk says suddenly, his body conveying even from a distance that he's got a hunch brewing in his skull. "Don't do a thorough job of it, just enough to give us an indication of lifeforms. I want them to think we had a terminal misfire, if they catch it at all..."

"Aye, sir," Chekov replies, quickly skimming his fingers across the surface of his workstation. A series of echoed chirps indicates the rapidity of his work, but little else is apparent until the chirp becomes a trill, data pouring across the crystalline blue surface in a shocking relief of white.

Spock joins Kirk at Chekov's station as the data resolves into a series of evenly-spaced boxes, each including preliminary data on each lifeform: Ten individuals, eight men and two women, only one non-human among them, all between the ages of 22 and 40, with no outstanding medical problems or penal flags. There are no names or personnel files to go with the data; the scan was performed as per the captain's wishes, but the cost of this information had come at the expense of specifics.

Below however, Spock has a fairly good idea as to the identities of most aboard. It is for that express reason he has chosen his current company, and they now await the boarding of their inexplicable guests.


Lieutenant Lucile Langdon and Specialist Petty Office Haruk Mijnar scramble with their PADDs as ambassador Spock tries to contain his diminutive excitement and focus on what he thinks he already knows. It is physically impossible for any person or persons aboard the shuttle to be from his own time, as no record would exist in the future as to his presence in this alternate past. Simultaneously, it was highly improbable that a past version of his future self (or crewmates) would detect any anomaly significant enough to transport them to this present. Spontaneous rifts and portals were not unheard of in deep space, but for the Enterprise to have wandered into one would have made for an even greater ripple, he deduced, and so had called upon the Lieutenant and Specialist to aid him, as well as acting in liason roles for their visitors.

"Officer Mijnar, have you found any new data generated in the last 48 hours pertaining to the topics we discussed?" Spock asks for the third time since Lieutenant Langdon returned with newer data cards, freshly uploaded from the information mega-base.

"Not as of yet, ambassador," Mijnar replies with only a hint of his former accent. His tightly-wrapped black turban moves like an oddly-colored fishing bobber as he slowly shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the fast-moving data in his hands.

"There seem to be several articles on string theory that have been placed and removed since this morning," Langdon interjects quietly, as if unsure that this information is actually pertinent. "Two of them were written by that physicist, Antony Russo, the one who wrote that bogus theory on space ripples after Vulcan imploded..."

Before Mijnar can respond in the affirmative, the Lieutenant hastily glances at Spock, as if sensing that the topic of Vulcan is not the best course of discussion at present, and the specialist clears his throat thickly before turning back to his studying.

Spock doesn't care too greatly about the matter of Vulcan at present. He doesn't really hear the conversation between the two scientists at all; astrophysicists and cosmologists are highly useful when it comes to working out the science of such events, but for a Vulcan, working out the emotional turmoil before the confrontation is far more crucial.

As he watches through the transparasteel safety of the dock's viewshields, the exterior hatch begins to hiss open.

Jim...Your name is...Jim...