A/N: So, here's chapter 2. The tension mounts! Thanks again to Di the Creator and ThatSassyCaptain. Live Long and Prosper.

Disclaimer: I am not the owner of Star Trek or its characters-that honor goes to Paramount, CBS, and the minds behind this timeless series' creation-most notably Mr. Gene Roddenberry, Norman Spinrad and (in recent years) J.J. Abrams.

Star Trek: Doomsday

Chapter 2: Wreckage

Stardate 2261.92, 1347 hours

Location: U.S.S. Enterprise, Deck 5...

It had taken a relatively short time to brief Alpha Shift's senior staff about the new mission from Starfleet Command—barely an hour.

Upon exiting the mess hall, Jim paused to shift his load into one arm before he moved to consult a directory display. "Computer?" A chirp emanated from the panel and the ready light flashed. "Locate Lieutenant Commander Carol Marcus."

The feminine Vocal Response Matrix of the Enterprise's computer responded after a moment's pause. *Lt. Commander Marcus is in Research and Development.*

Jim nodded to himself. "Right…"

Two levels down, then forward, and he was well on his way to the labs. On occasion he passed various crewmembers who were either on duty or heading for the mess hall for their own meal break. But as he approached the doors of the lab, to his surprise, he recognized Carol's voice. She was singing, and he could hear the strains of…what on Earth? Jim halted when his ears caught the faint strains of accompaniment. Since when did Carol listen to classical stuff? The voice in Jim's head that muttered "Fascinating!" sotto voce sounded an awful lot like Spock, and he even had to stifle the urge to copy his First Officer's 'Vulcan Eyebrow of Doom', as Bones so bluntly dubbed it. Weird.

He buzzed in at the door just to see if she'd notice, but apparently no one heard it; the door stayed shut. Jim shrugged and keyed in his access codes. Captain's prerogative and all. As the doors hissed open, Jim gave it more thought. The tune sounded familiar. He wracked his memory, but for once, his genius-level brain didn't offer much help. In fact, it was only after he entered the room that he realized exactly where he'd heard the piece before.

"Is that from Phantom of the Opera?" He murmured to himself. He slowed his stride, intrigued. In fact, he got so caught up in his unexpected glimpse into Carol's private side that he was nearly bowled over by one of the Beta shift lab techs. "Whoa, there!" He reached out to steady the ensign with his usual million-watt smile. "You all right?" Judging from the way the poor woman yelped when she realized who she'd almost knocked over, she was both new and relatively low on the chain. "Y-yes, Captain, sir! I'm sorry about that, si—!"

Jim couldn't help his bemusement. "At ease, Ensign." He had to put a face to the name or it would look bad on the next log entry. "Ensign Lynd, right?"

The woman nodded. She was older than he was, but Jim picked only the best. "Patricia Lynd, sir. I was just g-getting ready to go off-shift."

"I see. Tired of the singing?"

"Not at all." Ensign Lynd shrugged. "She's not bad, really. Most of us have our quirks."

"Ahh. That's certainly true." Jim smiled. He patted her shoulder. "You're free to go, Ensign. Go grab a bite to eat."

Dr. Marcus's station was sequestered in her own special corner of the ship's R&D Lab. Neat but cluttered (as always) was what Jim could see of the countertop assigned to his current person of interest.

When he came around the corner, the ship's most notable addition to the ranks—Dr. Carol Marcus—was swaying in time to the music and humming along; Jim didn't quite recognize the tune. A set of welder's goggles were placed over her eyes, and from what he could see, Carol was completely intent on her work, carefully making adjustments to a busted power cell.

Overcome by an odd swell of emotion, Jim paused when he was only a short distance away and watched her short bob of light blond hair flow in her wake. For the first time, he realized how alone he really was, outside of his beloved crew. His life prior to Starfleet and captaining the Enterprise didn't have much happiness amidst all the crap that was his early childhood; his father's death, his mother's distance, Frank, Ta—no, don't go there, Jim, he thought quickly. No need to dredge up that mess.

He shook himself out of his reverie. "I thought you hated opera," he called.

It made Carol jump. She whipped around to face him and yanked her goggles off, almost snapping the strap. "Captain! Y-you startled me."

Oops. Jim flinched. "Sorry."

Her soft smile was sympathetic as she set her tools aside. "Mm, it's perfectly fine," she replied, heaving a quick sigh. "Actually, I believe you caught me going overtime again, James."

Jim gave her a fond (if slightly exasperated) look. "Oh come on, Carol. Just call me Jim!"

"All right then," Carol sighed in good humor, "—Jim." She beckoned him over to a spare stool. "Have a seat if you'd like. I wish I was a better timekeeper, but you know how we scientists are."

Jim stifled a snort of laughter. "Say no more, Doctor Marcus, I know exactly what you mean." He didn't blame her in the least for getting too absorbed in her work. Keeping a starship's weapons running at optimum was a hell of a job, and that was without factoring in her own personal research projects.

"I had my own days of bad time management. When I was back at Starfleet Academy, I remember once I spent four days straight studying for my fractal calculus finals."

Carol blinked. "Four days?"

"Yeah. And that was because I hadn't bothered to do a lick of it before then. I fell asleep on my feet a few seconds after I'd finished the test. Bones still hasn't let me hear the end of it."

"I'm not surprised." She cocked her head to one side. "He's not a 'soft' sort of man, is he?"

"Blame it on his Southern upbringing," Jim replied wryly. "'Thou shalt take no bullshit from idiots' seems to be his personal first commandment, and I'm no exception." Carol laughed. Jim held up the sandwiches. "So… Mind if a maverick Starfleet captain joins you on break?"

"Not at all." Carol cleared a space. When she spotted what he was carrying she did a double-take. "Wait, did you—?" she pointed at the two rolled-up sandwiches, almost hesitating.

"—bring you lunch?" Jim gave her his best devil-may-care grin, and was gratified when she returned it. No matter what, he was more than happy to make a woman smile. "I figured you might be hungry. Here." He handed off one of the sandwiches. "Scotty-approved, fresh from the mess hall. You said you like cheddar-salami subs, right? All the fixings."

Carol cocked her head and shrugged while she unwrapped it. "Not my absolute favorite," she replied, heaving a quick sigh, "but at this point I doubt I'll notice." She took the moment to set her work aside. When she checked the chronometer she looked shocked, before an appreciative smile spread across her face. "It's 1354 already?! I'm certainly glad you stopped by." One bite of her lunch and the sound of enjoyment Carol made a sweet thrill roll down Jim's spine, never mind professional restraint. He was James T. Kirk, and he could appreciate a beautiful woman if he wanted to. Carol Marcus wasn't an exception to the Kirkian Law of Quantum Attraction—not in the slightest. "Mm." She caught a strand of lettuce with her finger. "Oh, yum. I see why they're 'Montgomery Scott' approved. Damn, this is delicious."

Jim couldn't help but catch onto her enthusiasm. "Told you so," he replied, stifling his smile with a bite of his Bolian BLT. He propped his elbows up on the workstation while they ate. Carol took the moment to mute her music before joining him. Jim couldn't help a chuckle to himself while he set aside a stack of rumpled, half-finished notes; Carol was one of those scientists who still used paper and pen, even in the age of 23rd century PADDs, styluses and replicators. Still, he'd noticed she only used paper for her preliminary research notes and a few other relatively mundane tasks like writing supply lists or personal reminders. Therefore, her workstation was strewn with a rather odd combination of technologies: Old-fashioned blueprints, ball point pens, sticky notes and half-finished sketches were scattered there, along with the usual science equipment; a replicator station, various styluses, a tricorder and several reusable PADDs, not to mention her own personal array of scientific instruments and equipment. Jim winced slightly when he bumped his knee against the handle of a medical kit situated under the table.

They spent the next few minutes eating in companionable silence. It was a while later when—feeling curious—Jim reached over and picked up one of the PADDs Carol had left turned on. It displayed an overview schematic of the Enterprise, along with a packet of datafiles. He couldn't ascertain its subject at first glance, so he took a closer look and, after exchanging a questioning glance with Carol, opened a few of the files. His interest immediately piqued. It appeared to be a late draft of a proposal regarding the ship's tactical systems, the phaser banks in particular. "So, what's the latest from this corner of the think tank? Got something in mind for our girl?" he asked, setting down the PADD.

"Our girl?" Carol repeated incredulously around a mouthful of sandwich. She swallowed and sent a rather sly smirk in his direction. "Captain Kirk," she enunciated primly, "Since when does Starfleet Command allow crews to enter romantic relations with their own starships?"

Jim recoiled in mock offense. "Hey!"

Carol laughed at his overdramatic reaction and reached over to check the PADD he was holding out for her to examine. Her eyes lit up and she exclaimed, "Oh! Oh yes, I remember this! I was going to present this proposal to you at the end of the week, actually."

Setting the PADD aside, Jim folded his arms over his chest and eyed her steadily. "Considering what's just been dropped on our plates, I'm more than happy to hear what you have so far."

"Very well." Carol moved to her workstation projector and keyed in her passcode. The projector arm extended and a moment later Jim was viewing a holographic projection situated above Carol's table. It showed a 3D schematic of the Enterprise's interior layout, sans warp nacelles. Glancing over at his colleague allowed Jim the rare privilege of seeing Carol's face light up in enthusiasm over her newest project. "I've been analyzing the ship's phaser banks and I have an idea on how to improve their output."

"I assume this has something to do with getting rid of the phasers' separate power systems, Lieutenant," Jim remarked, glancing up briefly from peering at the hologram. "Scotty and his teams have complained about those generators for a while." Highlighted in Carol's layout were two of the Enterprise's main systems; the ship's EPS grid and the forward dorsal and ventral phaser banks—two of the six double-emitter banks the Enterprise possessed. It was like the proverbial lightbulb going off in his head. He could glean part of her plan now that he had the basics in front of him.

Carol shook her head. "Er, not quite, though you are close." She pointed out the EPS relays. "Captain, not only am I proposing a better power source; I'm proposing a new firing method."

Jim leaned forward. Interesting is an understatement, he thought, but he didn't let his boyish excitable side take the conn just yet. This was about the Enterprise, so he had to approach the discussion as the Captain of his ship, not as a friend. "Tell me more."

Carol, meanwhile, busied herself beside him by accessing her terminal. "With the current pulsed phase configuration, regulating phaser power isn't easy." She looked up as she deactivated the projector, and the computer display flickered online. The blue-white hues from the images onscreen illuminated her pale face. "For the past several weeks I've been monitoring the energy variance and each emitter generator's output, and then cross-referencing the results with the rest of the ship's systems. I finished last week, and I discovered this." She pulled up a line graph, and what Jim saw made his brow crease in confusion. The line signifying phaser power usage—while not a "power hog" compared to the absolutely essential systems—looked like a cross-section of an alien mountain range. The variations weren't catastrophically out of balance, but they were definitely uneven enough to be noticeable. Carol's gaze was telling. "All of that constant energy fluctuation isn't exactly a boon for the emitters," she said, shaking her head, "and don't get me started on the power generators. Those operate almost full power when they're fueling the phasers—several gigawatts worth of power each, I believe. Furthermore, whenever power is transferred from some of the redundant systems on board to boost the output, it tends to put a lot of strain on the safety buffers. See?" She traced certain areas of the graph with her finger. "That rapid-fire setting wastes a lot of power. There's so many safety regulators operating constantly in order to prevent an overload, and it drains the phasers' overall effectiveness in the long run."

"Yeah, you're right." Jim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Huh. So that's why they tend to overheat so quickly."

"Exactly! Now, I did have some help from Mr. Scott in arranging this data, of course."

Jim nodded, glad to hear that Scotty was just as invested in this as Carol. "I'm glad—he gets awful prickly about who fiddles around with the ship. You two are getting along, right?"

She smiled. "No worries, Captain. Frankly? He's the best engineer I've ever met. His transwarp beaming equation is amazing!"

"I'll let him know you said that. But..." he paused abruptly as a thought occurred to him. "Wait, if the phaser pulse is so wasteful, why is Starfleet still using it on their ships?"

Shrugging thoughtfully, Carol frowned. "I'm not sure." She nibbled briefly at a small hangnail. "Now, here's what I'm proposing. I believe showing instead of telling will work." She tapped the computer interface and ordered, "Computer, access Enterprise weapons simulation Marcus Four-Two-Gamma and display at my station."

Jim watched, intrigued as the rest of Carol's project took shape in a flurry of electronic files. The centerpiece on screen showed a simulation of the Enterprise firing its forward phaser banks. But instead of a rapid-fire series of quick blasts, Dr. Marcus's calculations came up with—in theory, at least—a long, continuous beam of orange energy that arced straight from the Enterprise to its invisible target, too fast for the human eye to track. Jim also noticed that instead of using power generators, the phaser banks were linked directly to the EPS grid. "This form would draw its power directly from the warp core," Carol explained. "With this sort of configuration, the Enterprise would only require a few redundant safety buffers for the phasers, instead of the numerous monitoring systems they require now. The heat of a continuous phaser beam would escalate gradually instead of constantly fluctuating, like it does here with the pulsed-phase configuration."

"Wow." Jim had to take a moment for it to soak in before he checked Carol's calculations again and let out a low whistle. "This is fine work, Doctor Marcus, very well put together. But, uh…" He paused for a moment to think, tapping a finger on the table while he tried to come up with a suitably educated phrase. He was no uneducated farmhand—his IQ had tested well into the 160s—but his Midwestern roots tended to show up in his vocabulary. Putting up with Bones' wealth of cranky metaphors didn't help either. "How is this beneficial to the Enterprise in the long run?" He checked Carol's projections and the cross-references again. "There's not very much difference in overall power output, and from what I can see, this type of firing method does leave us with a bit of a handicap." He pointed it out as he spoke. "If these EPS relays or the warp core are knocked offline, there's no way to charge the phasers."

Carol looked a bit skeptical. "I've seen Engineering, Captain. Mr. Scott's brilliant at holding this ship together, and he's hardly by-the-book. I'm sure he has auxiliary systems in place."

Jim cringed, feeling hesitant. "Still…I'd rather not be at the mercy of a Klingon D7-class with no phasers."

Carol acquiesced. "I'll consult Mr. Scott."

"All right." When Carol turned as if to return to her work—and her lunch—he took the moment to reassure her. "Hey, I really do like the idea, Carol." He met her gaze with all the seriousness he could muster. "It's great! If I can find some time available in the next few days, I'll clear you and we'll have Engineering test your idea, all right?"

"Yes. Thank you, Jim."

For some reason, Jim found himself riveted by the gratitude in her eyes, and it appeared Carol saw something too, because she fell still, staring back. They were still gazing at each other when Jim's communicator chirped and broke the silence. "Bridge to the Captain." It was Spock.

Jim fumbled for a moment before he managed to answer. "Kirk here."

"Captain, we've picked up what might be a distress call. It appears to be coming from a region within our designated search pattern. I am taking us out of warp briefly to conduct a more detailed scan."

"On my way." Flipping the cover shut, he turned back to Dr. Marcus. "Doctor, I want you to head over to Astrometrics. See if you can help them with getting clearer readings of the area. Point out any anomalies. I'll be on the Bridge. If you find anything you know what to do."

She nodded. "Aye, Captain."

"Good luck."

=/\=

When Jim entered the bridge he half-expected to hear Chekov pipe up with his usual "Keptin on ze bridge!" However, it was Naomi Troi who spoke up instead in her calm, unaccented voice. Uhura was gone. The woman who'd taken her place was the deputy head of communications, Lieutenant Nancy Palmer. Frankly, Jim found Palmer to be more than competent, if not the best xenolinguist. "Status, Miss Palmer?" he inquired quickly.

Lieutenant Palmer got right to the point. "Sir, the distress call came from somewhere in the sector—one of the solar systems, but I'm having trouble isolating the source."

"Can you narrow it down any further?"

"Negative, sir. We managed to pick up the name Constellation, but after that we lost the signal."

Yes! Jim stifled the urge to pump a fist in victory. They still had to find the ship itself. Behind him, Sulu spoke up. "Captain? You might want to take a look at this."

"Yes, Mr. Sulu?" Jim strode over and leaned down to speak with the man.

The helmsman looked perplexed as he scanned his console. "We've dropped out of warp within range of System L-370, but I can't pick up evidence of any planets."

Jim frowned, puzzled. "That shouldn't be a problem, should it?"

Ensign Troi spoke up this time. "That's just it, sir," she said. "According to the scans from Starfleet there should be at least seven planets in this system alone."

"Hmm…Spock, what've you got?"

Spock straightened from his current post at sensors, and despite his stoic Vulcan demeanor, Jim could sense his friend was troubled. "Captain, scans indicate that this entire star system has been destroyed. Nothing remains but asteroids and rubble."

The bottom dropped out of Jim's stomach. "What?" he exclaimed. He strode over and checked the readouts himself. "But the star's still intact! Only a nova could do that sort of damage."

Spock was adamant. "Nevertheless, the evidence remains, Captain. Sensors indicate only debris where there were once planets."

Jim clenched his jaw shut and felt his gut sink as he took a seat in the captain's chair. "Mr. Sulu, continue a search pattern. Warp 2, bring shields up to half-strength."

"Aye-aye, sir."

For the next hour the Enterprise scoured the Kandari Sector for any further sign of the Constellation. More of the same appeared as the ship continued to search; entire systems reduced to rubble, yet no evidence of a stellar event. Further scans showed the subspace interference continued to increase, and by 1437 hours Jim's gut was telling him something very dangerous was lurking in this sector of space.

"Exiting warp. Now entering the outer limits of System L-374, sir," Sulu reported. He clicked his tongue and looked out the viewscreen. "Same as last time. A lot of debris out there."

"Two of the innermost planetoids appear to be intact," Spock observed. "One is Class J, the other Class D. Neither support intelligent life."

Jim hissed through his teeth in worry. "Same evidence of destruction and we haven't found any sign of the Constellation…" he muttered. "Decker's not a bad commanding officer. What could've happened to him?"

Lieutenant Palmer suddenly sat bolt upright in her seat. "Sir, I'm getting a Starfleet disaster beacon on subspace emergency channels!"

"Hail them."

The woman paused for a moment and shook her head. "No response, sir. Just the beacon."

Spock spoke up again. "Long-range sensors have detected a starship orbiting between the two innermost planets. It appears to be drifting but its orbit is stable." Jim frowned. "Is it Starfleet?"

"Evidently. However, energy readings are well below normal output parameters."

The overhead address system suddenly beeped indicating an incoming message. "Astrometrics to the Bridge. Captain Kirk?"

Jim sat up. "Dr. Marcus. Have you found something?"

Carol sounded a bit unsettled. "Yes, captain. We've been picking up some intermittent readings that seem to indicate antimatter discharges of some sort. Fairly recent, but this subspace interference is severely limiting our range."

"Keep at it, Doctor. Kirk out." Jim looked over to Sulu. "Approach vector, Mr. Sulu. Three-quarter impulse."

"Aye sir."

The first sign came as a glint of metal amidst the heavy debris fields scattered throughout the sector. Jim got up from his seat as the Enterprise approached to within visual range. "Isolate and magnify." Sure enough, once the readouts had isolated the metallic gleam, he could tell it was the Constellation—NCC-1017; he could see the registry number as they drew closer.

Since the Constellation was decidedly older than Enterprise, it lacked some of the Enterprise's gracefully sleek lines. Nevertheless, the ship was a close relative of the Enterprise as a Constitution-class cruiser. However, Jim could only tell it was a Constitution-class from the configuration of the ship itself. The entire hull of the Constellation was an unholy mess, scorched and pitted. Metal debris and even bodies floated among the wreckage as the crippled ship spiraled slowly through the blackness of space. The starboard edge of the bow had been blown off entirely and two holes gaped in the saucer section. One glance also told them all the main bridge had been rendered utterly useless. One of the Constellation's warp nacelles was charred, practically destroyed altogether. Its twin had lost its bussard collector.

"Whoa. What could've done that?" Sulu wondered.

Jim's jaw clenched. "She was attacked." He moved back to the command chair quickly and opened a shipwide channel. "This is the Captain. Red alert! All hands, man your battle stations!"

The entire bridge stiffened as the Enterprise bristled into red alert status. The klaxons wailed, panels chirped in warning and flashed red, further alarms sounded and sections of the interior lighting throughout the ship shifted to red, blinking steadily in warning of whatever was to come. Up on the bridge, Jim Kirk was absolutely sure something terrible had happened as he began to issue commands to his staff.

"Sulu?"

"All phaser banks fully charged, sir. Torpedo bays are standing by."

"Good. Help Ms. Troi initiate a full sensor scan of the area. Search for any sign of what could've done this."

Next, Jim swiveled to Comms. "Lieutenant?"

"No luck raising them, sir. I have the beacon but the interference is even worse. I can barely make it out."

"Spock, full evaluation on the damage to that ship."

Spock rose. "All power plants offline, reserves operative at minimal power."

"Life support?"

"Also operative at a low power level, Captain." Jim joined Spock as the Vulcan walked around the bridge to gaze out the viewscreen. "Their bridge is severely damaged and uninhabitable."

"Any radiation?"

"Within normal parameters," Spock replied crisply. "The interference has made readings difficult." He paused for a moment before adding, "I am not discounting Dr. Marcus's astrometric scans of the area."

"Good."

"No other vessels in range, sir. Scanners are clear."

Jim nodded. "Stand down Red alert, go to Yellow. All hands, stand by battle stations." He turned to Lieutenant Palmer. "Miss Palmer, have Dr. McCoy, Dr. Marcus, Mr. Scott report to Transporter Room One and assemble a damage control team." He glanced at Spock as he headed for the turbolift. "We're boarding her. Mr. Spock, you're in command."

"Yes, captain."

"Oh, and Spock?" He grinned at his friend when Spock looked over. "Don't scratch her up too bad."

All he got was the customary Raised Eyebrow. Oh well.