A/N: As you will note, I did base parts of the dialogue off of the original script by Norman Spinrad, whom I give credit to as the basis for this AOS adaptation. I did do some creative tweaking to fit the 'exuberance' of the AOS, but here's to Mr. Spinrad. Also, thanks yet again to Di the Creator and ThatSassyCaptain for their advice and support. 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.

And here...we...go.

Star Trek: Doomsday

Chapter 3: Lone Witness

After a quick discussion in Transporter Room One, Jim had decided the "command half" of the away team—consisting of himself, Dr. McCoy, Scotty, Keenser, and Dr. Marcus—would beam over to the Constellation first. With most of the saucer section rendered inaccessible by multiple hull breaches, they would have to assess the Constellation via the saucer "neck" and main engineering, and perform a preliminary assessment. The damage control team would follow them, after a twenty-second delay. They could only guess as to what awaited them.

Jim already knew some of what to expect based on the state of the Constellation's hull, it was still a shock to see the magnitude of damage that USS Constellation had suffered when they materialized on Deck 7's emergency transporters.

Next to him McCoy swallowed so hard Jim heard his throat click. "Holy Lord..." The doctor glanced both ways down the corridor for any sign of life, but the ship was silent and appeared deserted. Carol didn't speak, but Jim heard her inhale sharply.

All those present had survived the near-destruction of the Enterprise over a year before. Jim winced as a thought occurred to him: Seeing this kind of carnage was probably bringing back some very unpleasant memories, and God dammit, Jim, he could've kicked himself for not remembering it until now. But all of them were Starfleet officers—they were trained for this sort of catastrophe. A damaged starship was often part of the job. In spite of this, Jim had to remind himself to stick to his training while he surveyed the damage, because from Jim's perspective, the USS Constellation was a mess. The corridor the command team had materialized in was about as spick-and-span as a Nausicaan freighter's—in other words, a ruin, with tubes and loose wiring hanging from the ceiling.

Scotty was practically beside himself over the damage done to a proud sister of the Enterprise. "Ach, what mangy band o' half-wit arsewipes did all this?!" he groaned sadly, looking around before angrily gritting his teeth. "If I get my hands on 'em I'll boot the bassas out the airlock myself!"

"Mr. Scott…" Jim warned in a weary voice, still caught up in his own problems. His concern at the Constellation's sorry state was definitely niggling at his conscience, and that was without even factoring in his deep-seated uneasiness over the whole damn situation. Something in the back of his mind—probably left over from the Khan/Marcus fiasco—said this whole situation stank to high heaven.

Scotty paid little attention to them as he moved out into the corridor, and went on muttering various curses in Scots Gaelic while he examined the mangled wreckage. What was left of the ship's emergency lighting kept flickering, as if it were about to go out at any moment, and Jim was definitely thankful that life support and grav-plating were still operational at the very least. He eyed the damage a bit more closely—apparently, whatever weapon had struck the ship had packed a punch. Wall and ceiling panels had sprung loose. Some were scorched or melted from electrical fires that had been stifled earlier. HE flinched when sparks flew from a broken computer terminal nearby, and there was a definite stench of plasma, ozone and even—he swallowed hard—burnt flesh lingering in the stale air.

In the corner, Scott continued to grumble angrily under his breath until Keenser—to others' amusement—saw fit to pin the Enterprise's Chief Engineer with a soulful Roylan stare. When Scotty noticed, he bristled indignantly. "What're you lookin' at, Keenser?! For God's sake, y'should be just as…" It wasn't long before Scotty's blustering ground to a halt under the alien's silent gaze. "Ach, never mind." Keenser waited until Scott's back was turned before looking to his captain and giving a shrug. It's a part of who he is, the gesture implied.

The command team looked up as the hum of the transporter sounded the arrival of the rest of the away team. The new arrivals immediately whipped out tricorders and tool kits to assess the damage.

While they worked, Jim wandered over to Dr. Marcus. She was busy analyzing some of the data from the Enterprise's Astrometrics Lab to pass the time, since she wasn't needed as a technician. "What the hell could have dealt this kind of damage to a Constitution-class cruiser?" Jim remarked to Carol in an undertone. "We can't even access most of the forward section."

Carol bit her lip and continued her work. "I don't know, sir. Just that it—whatever 'it' is—is firing some sort of antimatter, and is able to destroy entire planets." A wan smile crossed her lips as she finished her notes and set the PADD aside. "Comforting, isn't it?"

Jim grunted. "Comforting wasn't the word I had in mind."

"More like terrifyin'," Bones added with his best worried scowl.

While Jim paced and Bones did his best to be cordially grumpy, Carol and Scotty began going about their business with the away team. "Radiation levels are normal," Carol reported. "Atmosphere is slightly below standard levels, currently holding at...99.624 kilopascals." She looked to one of the engineering crewmen. "Crewman Washburn, some assistance please?"

"Yes Doctor?"

"Can you tell me the status of life support in this section?"

"Well, Atmospheric Filtration is shut down," Washburn reported, "but we should be able to reactivate it from Main Engineering."

McCoy let out a hearty harrumph. "Well, that sure as hell explains why the air in here's staler 'n my great-grandma's teeth."

Jim screwed up his face in disgust at the image his brain provided—McCoy's great-grandmother was at LEAST twelve years dead and gone. From what Bones had told him, she'd been a sour lemon well before that, and had bought the plantation (pardon the expression) with only three teeth left. Eurgh. "WAY too much information, Bones."

McCoy shot him a look. "Well, you asked."

Engineering Crewman Dal Eves—a female Bajoran—was busy checking a terminal down the port corridor. "Looks like communications are dead, too, sir. Whatever attacked this ship shorted out the entire onboard network, subspace interference aside."

Jim fought back a curse. "So we're stuck with our communicators. Wonderful."

Scotty made a face and shrugged. "Maybe, but t'is better than nothin', Captain. Oi! Keenser, hand me that hyperspanner, will ya? Tha's a lad."

The Scotsman was just about to dig into the transporters when a thought occurred to Jim. "Actually, Scotty, why don't you go check things in Engineering?" he said, then looked to the science officer. "Dr. Marcus, you try and find the weapons center. See if they've been fired recently. At least we'll figure out if the crew put up a fight. Bones, you're with me."

"Aye, Captain. Come along, you lot."

Scotty, Carol and their team left via one of the Jeffries tubes while Jim headed off into the bowels of the ship. Bones followed, grumbling as he went. "Great. Here's hopin' somebody's still alive on this godforsaken tin can."

Down in the Constellation's engineering section, things weren't much better. "What a mess," one of the damage control team remarked with a grimace, looking around at the twisted wreckage of catwalks and piping. Water from the warp core cooling pipes—and Scotty had rather uncomfortable memories of the Enterprise's cooling pipes in particular—lay in great big puddles on the floor, littered with broken components.

"What do you think did all this, sir?" Mr. Washburn remarked.

Scott traded a glance with Keenser, who simply shrugged. "I dunno, lad," Scotty replied quickly, "But I want a full structural and damage control check. I'm gonna have a look at those engines." He stopped. "Actually…" he pulled out his communicator. "Scott tae Doctor Marcus."

"Yes, Mr. Scott?"

Scotty paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "D'ye mind comin' doo'n here to take a look at the warp core, lass once ye're done? The warp coils are both hopeless piles o' scrap—no surprise there—but summat's right screwy with the dilithium matrix. Fig're out what's buggered it. I'm goin' up t' take a look at the impulse drive 'n see what I can do. Keenser'll help ya."

"Of course. I'll be right down, Mr. Scott."

Scotty smiled. "Aye, ye're a Godsend f'r all of us, Missy. The captain knows talent when he sees it. Glad you're with us."

Carol's smile could be heard clearly even through the communicator. "As am I. Thank you, Mr. Scott."

"Anytime, lass. Scott out."

Up top, Jim and McCoy had begun their search of the Constellation's accessible rooms. It quickly became apparent to them both that not only were most rooms inaccessible, but whatever had happened had definitely NOT happened without warning. Not one room so far had turned up any survivors or bodies. The ship was all but deserted.

"What'd'you suppose could've happened?" Jim asked the doctor, glancing at McCoy as they examined the only accessible crewman's lounge. "There's no clutter here, nothing."

McCoy nodded. He was busy rubbing his chin, standing to one side in his usual deep-thinking pose. "Not even a spilled cup of that god-awful swill Starfleet calls coffee," the doctor remarked under his breath. Then he gave a jolt and yelped. "Ow!" Jim had thwacked him in the arm.

"Come on, you drink plenty of the stuff, Bones; don't be a hypocrite!"

While McCoy grumbled to himself, Jim rolled his shoulders to ease out a kink in his neck, then stepped back a pace and surveyed the room with his hands on his hips. He gnawed his lower lip in silence while Bones eyed him. To Bones, it was clear the captain was having a moment he was quickly garnering fame for—the "lightning storm in space" moment Admiral Pike had called it once, when his brain started stringing clues together at Warp Ten. Sure enough, Jim's eyes lit up and he whirled to regard Bones with wide eyes. "Wait a minute. Wait. I bet whatever happened, it didn't happen without warning. No, they were fighting something. This wasn't a surprise."

"What, then? Think there they abducted by aliens or somethin', Captain?" Bones wondered in his best sardonic drawl.

Jim snorted but shook his head. "Nahh, they weren't abducted. They just left."

The doctor's look of annoyed confusion was typical. "Well then why the hell would a crew of over four hundred just up 'n leave a Constitution-class starship to drift in space? Besides the fact that this ship's been turned into a trash heap, sir," he added at Jim's flat look.

Jim frowned. "I dunno. Let's ask Spock." He opened his communicator. "Kirk to Enterprise."

"Spock here, Captain."

"No sign of survivors, Spock. No bodies either. The ship's deserted. Got any ideas?"

"I would require a more developed hypothesis, Captain."

Jim blinked and fumbled for a reply. "Well, could the crew have beamed down to one of the two remaining planets?"

On board the Enterprise, Spock's eyebrow rose in a Vulcan expression of contemplation. "Improbable, Captain. Due to its close orbital proximity to the star, the surface temperature of the innermost planet is that of molten lead. The outer planet's atmosphere is one inhospitable to human life: a highly toxic carbon dioxide/nitrogen atmosphere similar to the Sol system's planet Venus."

"All right. We'll continue our search. Kirk out." Jim flipped the communicator shut and traded a glance with Dr. McCoy. "Time for some answers. Let's go find Scotty."

"And your maybe-girlfriend," Bones muttered, smirking to himself.

Jim's eyes widened despite himself and rounded on McCoy in bewilderment. "Wha-?" Then he caught himself and waved off the idea. "Nooo, no, come on! It's not like that."

Bones clicked his tongue knowingly and grinned at his best friend. "Uhh-huh. Suuure, keep tellin' y'self that. Admit it, Jimmy. You like her."

"Weeeelll…" Jim knew he was wheedling, and Starfleet Captains did not wheedle. "…Maybe a little." He cringed when his best friend's knowing smirk only grew wider. He was quick to try and dispel the idea obviously floating in Bones' head. "A-anyway, like I said; Carol's a friend. And NO, I'm not planning on sleeping with her! I'm past that!" he exclaimed.

Bones coughed—it sounded suspiciously like a laugh—and Jim bypassed pink and blushed deep red. "Ahh, quit it, Len, or I'll order you to as captain of the Enterprise—"

"No, y' won't. You're the Enterprise's ingenious idiot, Jimmy," Bones interjected. "We all know that. Me better'n most. God knows I patch your skinny ass up often enough." His gaze was light with his usual gruff humor, but his face was set in a serious expression as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "All this denial makes you look like crap on a cracker, y'know?"

Jim ignored him as they left the room and headed back to the transport site. The acerbic attitude was just par for the course when it came to Leonard "Bones" McCoy, but damn if it didn't grate on him at times. "I'm not in denial, Bones! I just can't! She's part of my crew," he went on, saying the last bit mostly to himself. He schooled his nerves before halting in the middle of the corridor. "Look. I'm not about to cause trouble on board by having what could pretty much amount to a fling with one of my best science officers." Bones nodded. "Now, I want this to stay between us, is that clear, Dr. McCoy?"

Leonard frowned but acquiesced. "Yes, sir."

Jim nodded. "Thanks." He patted his friend on the shoulder. "I do appreciate the discretion, you know."

"Anytime, kid. Doctor-patient confidentiality, the whole nine yards. Though this is more like I'm a God-fearin' priest sitting pretty in the confessional."

Jim snickered and stood there for a moment longer while he stared off into space contemplating what could be. Then he started to grin to himself, and Bones' look of long-suffering exasperation was the perfect foil to his own shit-eating grin. "Not that she's bad company or anything," he mused out loud. "What d'you think of her, Bones?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Dammit man, I'm a doctor, not a relationship counselor!"

About forty-five minutes later, the command team convened in the emergency transporter room, leaving the damage control teams to their work. Mr. Scott looked frustrated but slightly pleased, while Carol was agitated, busy studying the readings on her tricorder.

Jim clapped his hands and rubbed them together. His expression and stance bled an oddly serious eagerness. "So, what've we got? Mr. Scott, your report?"

"Aye captain." Scotty frowned. "Keenser 'n I took a look at the engines. The warp drive's trashed, sir; t'is a hopeless pile o' junk, but impulse isn't too badly off. I oughta be able to do somethin' with 'em after a little tinkerin' aroo'nd."

"Commander Marcus, what about weapons? Anything on the phasers or the torpedo bays?" Jim looked over to Carol for the information. Carol straightened immediately—she was all business. "The ship's complement of photon torpedoes has been depleted, Captain. None left. The phasers are all but exhausted." She shrugged helplessly. "Whatever happened, the crew didn't give up without a damn good fight."

"But where are they?" Jim wondered as he began pacing. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. "I remember Matt Decker pretty well—he's not someone who'd abandon his ship while life support's still operative. Wish we had some record of what happened."

"Well, f'r all intents n' purposes, sir, the ship's computer core's still functional," Scotty remarked, hesitating sheepishly before amending, "barely." Then he brightened and he snapped his fingers. "Oi, hold th' comm—I'll bet Decker has a duplicate of his command logs in there somewher's!" He looked to Jim eagerly. "We should be able tae play it back from Auxiliary Control."

Jim grinned and gestured out the door without further ado. "Lead the way, Mr. Scott."

Scotty bustled out the door, but as Jim followed the chief engineer he felt a hand drop onto his arm. "Captain Kirk?" It was Carol, and she wore a very anxious expression. "I can't help but worry about the ship," she murmured.

"The Constellation?" Jim asked as they continued down the corridor.

"No, the Enterprise." She halted and turned to him, heaving a short sigh. "Captain, with your permission I'd like to apply the beamed phase configuration to the Enterprise's forward phasers."

Shifting, Jim folded his arms. "How soon?"

"As soon as possible."

Jim raised both eyebrows. "Eager to try those things out, eh, Doc?"

Carol shook her head, though she did smile a little at his attempt at levity. "No—I'm worried we'll need them," she replied softly. I see, Jim realized. Upping the defenses. Well, I can't argue with that. "I've done all the necessary calculations and ran simulations of the setting on a hand phaser just two hours ago; it's just a matter of application."

Jim took a moment to consider his options. He needed her expertise on board the Constellation right now. Carol was the only one who fully understood the intricacies of the advanced quantum physics currently in play in the sector. If he sent her back to the Enterprise and shit happened to hit the fan, the away team would be without a science officer. But if he sent one of the others…

"I can't send you back there right now, Doctor Marcus," he said after a moment's thought, "but how about sending Lieutenant Keenser back over? He'll know what to do once he's got the template."

"Keenser?" Carol blinked. "Hmm. A fine choice, captain. He's rather fun to work with." She commed the Roylan engineer and—after granting him access to the research, which gathered a typical single-word reply from the little fellow through the communicator—she smiled over at him. "Thank you so much, Captain."

"Anytime," he replied, before glancing up and realizing they were alone but for Dr. McCoy, who was standing at an intersection, frowning impatiently. "Hey," he said, then tugged her along as he broke into a quick trot down the corridor. "Let's catch up to Scotty and make sure he's not getting into any trouble."

Bones fell in alongside. "Wooing the lady, now are we?" he teased in a southerner's-sugar-and-gravel undertone so Carol didn't overhear.

"Shut up, Bones."

They had almost made it to the Auxiliary Bridge when a shout rang out from up ahead. "Oi, CAPTAIN!"

"Scotty?!" Jim jolted and broke into a run, followed by the others. They burst into Auxiliary Control to find Scotty hunched over a lone survivor who lay motionless at the ship's auxiliary flight controls. The soot-stained gold shirt coupled with the rank circlets sewn on the cuffs told Jim it could only be one person.

"It's Matt." He breathed a sigh of relief and silently thanked whatever consciousness ruled the universe for sparing his old Academy companion.

"The Commodore? Matt Decker?" Scotty blanched, staring at Commodore Decker in bewilderment. "What'n the bleedin' hell is he doin' doo'n here?!"

Jim ignored the question and gripped his old acquaintance's shoulder and shook him a few times. "Matt. Matt! You okay? It's Jim, Jim Kirk."

Decker only groaned sluggishly. It wasn't enough for Jim just yet.

"Commodore Decker?" Bones hustled over wearing a look of stormy consternation and wielding a hypospray. After scanning the commodore, he hissed a mild curse and pulled out a tubule of corticostimulant from his medical kit. After calculating the dose Bones reached around and pressed the hypo against the officer's jugular vein. "Jim, cool your warp coils, dammit and let the man breathe!" the doctor snapped when Jim didn't stop shaking the man afterward.

Jim halted his attempt for the moment. "Matt!" he demanded. This time the Commodore stirred and struggled to sit up in his seat. Jim and Bones helped him sit up. Jim kept him balanced until Decker's bleary gray eyes met his own blazing blue ones.

"J…Jim?" Decker's voice was thick and raspy and sounded hoarse. He blinked, then nodded to himself as he was settled backwards into the chair by Jim and McCoy's guiding hands. "Kirk…i's Jim Kirk." A faint ghost of a smile flickered across the older man's stubble-darkened features before vanishing as the man took in the aftermath of battle around him.

"Matt, what happened? What happened to your ship?" Jim demanded as urgently as he could, leaning closer.

"Jim, he's still coming around. Give 'im some space!" Bones hissed from behind him, but Jim wasn't the sort to be deterred. Whatever was out there hadn't gone far, not with two planetoids left to crush to powder. He'd bet his left boot and the Enterprise's deuterium reserves on it.

"R-Right…a-a ship—attacked us." Decker mumbled. His head wobbled on his shoulders like a bobblehead with a broken spring as he looked around, appearing utterly bewildered. "That—that thing." He abruptly went rigid and attempted to sit up straight while his widened eyes stared transfixed in a sort of remembered horror on the inactive viewscreen on the far wall.

"Thing—?" Jim wondered. His chest tightened at the sight of the near-panic in Matt Decker's gaze. "What thing? Matt, what was it?!" He was almost shouting by now, and he shook Matt's shoulders again. In the back of his mind Jim could sense the others hovering around him, but dismissed their presence for the moment while he tried to get Decker to be a little more cognizant. So far, it wasn't doing too much good, but his old classmate was obviously trying. However, Decker's dazed state made him incredibly unstable on the emotional level.

With an agonizing amount of effort, the Commodore attempted to speak, but he struggled with simply forming the first word, and in the end he choked after barely uttering, "That—!"As Jim tried to steady him, he realized Decker was trembling—shaking. He stared wordlessly at nothing, and an alarming rictus of horror and grief suddenly crumpled the features of his face, rendering the commodore speechless.

Bones' temper finally snapped and the curmudgeonly country doctor stepped forward to bat Jim's hands away from Decker. "Blast it Jim, he's in shock! Give 'im a minute before you give the man a seizure!" Jim let go of his former classmate and Decker, exhausted, let his head rest against the console while he tried to collect his wits. Ever the mother hen, Bones leaned over Decker's shoulder to administer a mild sedative and waved Jim off. "Go on, shoo."

"Sir!" Scotty piped up quietly from his place at an adjacent station. "I've got the duplicate logs for ye, sir."

Jim nodded. "Go ahead, Mr. Scott. Play the Commodore's last entry."

They all listened to the commodore's voice as Scotty played back the recording. Decker sounded much steadier in the log entry than he was at present, but he did seem rather troubled by the subject he was reporting. "Captain's Log, Stardate 2261.83. We've encountered a swath of destroyed solar systems since our arrival in the Kandari Sector. System L-370 has been wiped out entirely. Exceptional levels of subspace interference have been preventing all but the briefest periods of contact with Starfleet Command, the last of which was last week. I only hope we find the cause. In the meantime, we're approaching system L-374. My science officer has informed me that the fourth planet seems to be breaking up. We're going in to investigate."

"The fourth planet?" Jim wondered after the recording ended. "There's only two left." He looked to Carol and Scotty. "Scotty…" he stood for a moment while he gathered his ideas into a plan that wouldn't get anybody in dire straits. "Here's what we'll do; I want you and Dr. Marcus to pull the sensor logs from the computer and transmit them to Enterprise. We need to know exactly what happened to those planets and how."

"Aye sir."

A pat on his sleeve brought Jim's attention around and he looked down at Decker. The older man seemed to have regained control of his wild emotions to a degree, but he still appeared to be in a quasi-stunned stupor as he regarded the younger captain, his brow creased in confusion and concern. "W-we tried to contact Starfleet Command when we arrived. No one heard," he said, rambling on desperately without waiting for an answer. "No one! Hell, we couldn't run! Once we saw it, the thing was right on top of us!" The fear in Decker's voice was so razor sharp it made his voice crack again.

Jim did his best to focus on the bigger picture—he hated to do this when his old friend was in such a sorry state, but he had Decker here, now; they had to figure out what happened to the rest of the crew. He bent slightly to look Matt squarely in the eye. "Matt, focus. What about your crew?"

Decker shrugged. It was a pathetically helpless gesture. "I beamed them out, Jim. Warp core was wrecked in the first attack! We were dead in space. Our phasers were useless." He gave an almost derisive snort at Jim's unspoken question, and after running both hands down his face he went on, voice wobbling as he continued. "I stayed behind, of course. The Captain's the last man, the last officer to leave the ship. That's Starfleet protocol, isn't it?" he inquired, and when Jim nodded he flung one arm out in a half-hearted dismissive after a moment's contemplation. "Anyway, then it came round and hit again, and next thing I know the transporters are fried. They're down there and I'm stuck up here."

"Matt, what hit? What attacked you?" Frustration was the mother of faulty debriefings, but Jim couldn't stifle the worst of it; not entirely. The commodore was verbally running around in circles like some kind of headless chicken and he needed more than just "thing" as a description.

Decker's face crumpled again in utter anguish, and a dark look passed over his face "They say there's no Devil, Jim," he muttered. He started trembling again and carded a hand through his graying hair. "B-but there is, and i-it's out there, r-right now,"—he was stammering now—"stalking us! R-Right outta hell, I s-saw it!" he choked. By now the commodore was practically sobbing with the ghosts of fright still haunting him; his whole frame rocked with shudders of terror as he brought one hand up to grasp at thin air. It was as if the man was trying to prove to himself that what he'd seen wasn't just a nightmare. Finally, he ran out of steam and let his hand fall.

Jim closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose, doing his best to re-compartmentalize his own worst memories. Not only that, but he found himself stemming a rather childish urge to just reach over and bitch-slap the man across the face to see if it would knock some sense back into him. "Matt, where are they?" he demanded, placing both hands on Decker's biceps to steady him and carefully enunciating each word. "Where is your crew?"

Decker shook harder and Jim eased back. He had this horrible sense of dread at what he was about to hear, but what choice did they have? Arms stiffened and braced against the console, Decker's voice grew tight, coming from the back of his throat. "They're on the third planet," he managed at last.

Jim felt his heart twist. "There IS no third planet!" he exclaimed, without thinking.

As it turns out, it was the wrong thing to say. Decker's eyes flashed up at the younger man in outrage and Jim flinched. Me and my big mouth. "Don't you think I know that?!" the commodore growled, but the anger quickly gave way to half-stifled sobs as he gestured vehemently at the viewscreen and cried, "There was, but not anymore!"

The others in the room had stopped what they were doing and were listening in part horror, part sympathy as the commodore's grief grew to almost tangible levels, a miasma of churning sorrow that seemed to emanate not only from Decker, but from the very ship itself. Out of the corner of his eye Jim noticed Carol had pressed the backs of her knuckles to her lips in an attempt to stifle a sob, and Bones? Well, the doctor's constant storm of cantankerously protective grump wasn't focused on anything at the moment. He seemed lost to his own ruminations, but was just as heart-wrenchingly captivated as everyone else as the Commodore lost all emotional control. "They called me, Jim. I heard them! They begged," he wailed, "begged me to help them! I tried to—f-four hundred of 'em!" Finally it became too much for the exhausted man and he collapsed and buried his head in his hands. "But I, I…I couldn't…I c-couldn't…!" Utterly spent, Matt Decker broke down completely and wept over the loss of his entire crew.

Jim gave him the space he needed, swallowing hard to stem the tide of bitter guilt welling up in his throat. Dr. McCoy had the presence of mind to put a consoling hand on Jim's shoulder as he passed by, before turning to tend to his patient.

Meanwhile, Jim tossed aside a loose chunk of debris and picked his way through the mess to the central computer terminals set in the wall at the back of the room. Scotty and Carol were busy transferring the Constellation's sensor logs onto Type 1 isolinear data sticks, then beaming each set to the Enterprise with a portable transporter the Chief Engineer had constructed himself. "You heard all that?" he inquired, keeping his voice low.

Scotty looked over. He kept his silence for a moment and his Adam's apple bobbed in a hard swallow. "…Aye sir." The Scotsman shook his head. "Righ' terrible thing, this is. M' prayers are with the man." He perked up just a bit and turned to Carol, doing his best to deflect the conversation towards less-sensitive topics for now. "Er, b'fore we get back tae work, sir, Dr. Marcus has the damage control team's report for ya." Carol nodded once and picked up her PADD, and Jim turned his attention to her.

"Washburn and his team have made a full structural and control damage assessment. They aren't entirely certain, but whatever damaged this ship did so with enough power to completely breach through the shields and fry the generators simultaneously." Carol was every bit the consummate Starfleet science officer as she reported, keeping a lid on her own emotions in the meantime. He had a pretty good guess when and where she'd had to develop her mask of professionalism, though, and the memories of the USS Vengeance's bridge were decidedly not pleasant, even for someone with as much tragedy in his past as James T. Kirk. "Also, captain…" Carol frowned, consulting her PADD for a moment while she accessed a datafile. "When I examined the warp drive, I discovered the following..." She pulled up a chart detailing the Constellation's warp drive and a schematic of the core and the nacelles. Both the coils and the drive were highlighted in red. "All antimatter on board has been rendered inert—the level of subspace interference managed to deactivate the entire warp drive once the Constellation's shields were lost. There's no matter/antimatter reaction to initialize warp drive, even if we were to realign the core. The only thing running this vessel are the emergency reactors."

Jim's eyebrows shot towards his hairline and he felt another shudder of dread run talons down his back. "Deactivated?" he repeated. "Scotty, could some kind of broad-spectrum dampening field do that, coupled with whatever it uses for weaponry?"

Scotty shifted back and forth in thought, staring off into space before finally giving a nod. "Aye, tha' all adds up, sir. But what kinda thing could do all o' tha' in just a few passes?"

Apparently, Decker had been listening in while McCoy worked, because he turned in his seat to snap at them. "Oh come on now!" he sneered. "Jim, if you'd been here to see the damn thing, you'd know. The whole thing's a weapon end to end, it's got to be!"

When McCoy glowered at him and told him, "Sir, with all due respect, shut your yap and let me work, dammit!" Decker returned the scowl before sighing and allowing the doctor to continue tending to his bruises.

Jim on the other hand was intrigued. "What's this 'thing' look like, Commodore?" he asked, striding over with Carol at his side. He and Dr. Marcus shared a silent conversation in one quick glance. If this object was a weapon, this was her field of expertise.

Decker snorted. "Simple. I guess the best analogy is, well..." he rubbed his jaw. "It looks like a giant wind sock in space, only a hell of a lot bigger and made out of metal. It's at least two kilometers long; huge, with a great big flaming maw at one end that could swallow both our ships in one go! Maybe even a dozen. It destroys planets, Jim—chops 'em into rubble!" He shuddered to himself; the idea of it was a recollection he obviously hated.

Carol made a face at the odd comparison. "A giant metal wind sock in space?" She and Jim shared another look.

"Now I've heard everything," Jim remarked offhand, before returning his attention to the Commodore. "So what is it, a ship? An alien ship? Or is it alive or—?"

Decker butted in with, "Both—or neither." He scoffed and waved the idea off. "Ahh, I don't know."

Rubbing his neck in frustration, Jim felt a vein pulse in his temple as he frowned at the man. Seriously, Matt? You're pulling this crap again? This was why he hadn't quite befriended Decker to the extent he had McCoy and Spock—he was blunt like Bones, but at the worst possible time and in the worst possible way. Worse, he had the feeling the rank of Commodore had gone to his older classmate's head. Only a tad, but it was definitely noticeable. He sighed. "Okaaaayyyyy…let's try this again. Matt, your logs said the fourth planet was breaking up and you were going in to investigate. What did you see?"

Decker frowned as he reflected on the past few days. "Well, we arrived and saw this thing hovering over the planet. It wasn't orbiting it, either, it was maintaining a…" He tapped the console in thought before the best term occurred to him. "…a solar-synchronous orbit, and slicing huge chunks out of the planet with some sort of energy beam."

"You ran scans?" Carol piped up.

"We did."

"And…?"

"Pure anti-proton," Decker declared resolutely, adding an emphasizing sweep of his hand. "Absolutely pure."

Carol's eyes went wide and she blanched. "Good lord," she gasped, and looked at her captain. "Anything caught in that beam's path would just…" She was about to continue, but Decker interjected.

"—burn up," he finished rudely, aiming a sharp glare at her. "How the hell do you think my ship got torn apart?"

Jim jumped in when Carol flushed pink in embarrassment. "Now, take it easy Decker. Don't take it out on my crew."

Chastised, the commodore winced at his own blunder. He shifted in his chair and looked the weapons physicist up and down once. "You're Alex's daughter, right? Carol?" When she nodded, Decker's lips thinned in sympathy. "My condolences about that nasty business last year. Wish I'd seen how far gone he was a lot sooner."

Carol swallowed while Jim worked his jaw in irritation. He'd instantly caught sight of the deeply buried pain in her eyes. Matt, I know you mean well, but quit ripping open old wounds, he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Finally, Carol managed to reply, "Thank you, Commodore Decker."

Decker made an apologetic face. "And I, uh…I am sorry I snapped at you, Doctor. It's a bit of a personal flaw of mine. I've been trying to correct it for a while now."

Though she did hesitate again, Carol managed a faint smile this time. "Apology appreciated, sir."

Decker smiled, but it was a sad one.

Jim's communicator buzzed and he stepped back, pulling the device from his pocket.

"Kirk here."

"Captain." It was Spock (of course.) "Continued attempts to reach Starfleet Command have been unsuccessful due to continuation of heavy subspace interference," the first officer reported in his typically neutral tones. "Furthermore, Stellar Cartography and Astrometrics report the interference appears to be worsening, by a rate of .4% every five point seven minutes. Lt. Palmer is attempting to rectify the problem but is having limited success."

"Have you checked the Constellation's sensor logs?"

Onboard the Enterprise, Spock shifted minutely in the command chair. "Affirmative, captain. Based on the scans taken of this…planet killer," Spock paused momentarily to nominate a phrase suited to the creation responsible for these disasters, "It appears that the USS Constellation was accosted by an artificially intelligent machine."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "A robot?"

"Yes. An automated weapon of immense size and power." As the Vulcan continued, Jim detected the faintest of shifts in Spock's tone that suggested…unease. "Its apparent function is fairly simple; to destroy planetary bodies, then ingest and process the resulting debris for fuel. Therefore, it is only logical to believe it is a self-sustaining construct, so long as there are planets for it to 'feed' on."

Jim ducked his head to one side in realization. Unbidden, he saw in his mind's eye a sandy orb hanging in space, swiftly collapsing in on itself to the imagined death cries of billions. He tasted bile in the back of his throat as he remembered it—the destruction of Vulcan. The loss of millions if not billions of innocent lives as well as one of its founding planets had rocked the entire Federation to its core. It was clear Spock saw the similarities as well, because when he spoke again his voice had softened considerably and gained a minute edge of buried anguish. "Such a purpose—as I am sure you're aware, Captain—directly parallels that of Nero's use of red matter to destroy my home planet."

"I know. But…a robotic weapon that destroys entire solar systems on purpose?" Jim exclaimed as he started to pace back and forth. "Why would somebody build such a thing?"

Damn it, he could almost hear Spock's rising eyebrow. "Unknown. However, Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Troi have calculated the path of the machine by utilizing the Enterprise's long-range sensors, using similarly destroyed systems as a basis for plotting its previous course. The stellar cartography department has since determined the following; the machine came from outside our galaxy, perhaps the Andromeda galaxy."

"I see." Jim hated to ask, but he went ahead and did it anyway. "Spock, what's the projected course of this thing should it keep going?"

Spock was silent for so long Jim had to repeat his name to get a reply. When he did, Spock actually sounded unsettled—an extremely rare occurrence. "If it continues on its present course," he said, choosing his words carefully, "it will decimate the most densely populated section of the Alpha Quadrant."

"Shit." Jim swore under his breath, then did so again—in Klingon, Andorian, Orion and Denobulan. This was bad. This was shit-hit-the-fan bad. Klingon-Invasion-of-Sector-001 bad. He bit back any further curses and contained them to his head before replying. "Thank you for informing me, Mr. Spock. Stand by and maintain Yellow Alert status. Kirk out."

Upon flipping the communicator shut with a flick of his wrist, Jim looked up to find Bones standing nearby. The doctor's expression said it all. "You look like I feel," Jim remarked.

Bones pursed his lips before breaking out in a brief humorless grin. "Ain't that the truth." He frowned at the captain. "But in all seriousness, Jim—a robot? A machine like that? Who in tarnation would build something like that?"

"Hell if I know," Jim replied as he began pacing. "Probably an alien race from the Andromeda galaxy."

Bones' angry eyebrows turned into bewildered eyebrows. "Why?"

Jim didn't answer for a moment while he wracked his memory for a good analogy the doctor would get. "You ever heard of something called a 'doomsday machine,' Bones?"

Bones scowled. "No, I'm a doctor, not a mechanic—or a historian, for that matter."

Jim knew his voice had darkened considerably but he didn't give two shits or a damn about it. "It's a weapon, Bones. A weapon built as a bluff. Something so overpowered and so dangerous it's never meant to be used in the first place. Just the threat of its existence is usually enough."

Bones nodded. "It would destroy everything in a war no matter which side it was built by. Damn."

In spite of the situation Jim knew his lips had curled grimly at how easily his best friend caught on. "Pretty much. And that's what I think this is, Bones—a 'doomsday machine' some alien race built for their interstellar war a long, long time ago. Probably a cold war of some sort." He swore again to himself. "Well, the builders aren't around anymore, but their fuck-all planet killer sure is, and it's still destroying anything that registers larger than an asteroid."

By now, Decker had regained most of his emotional control, but there was an odd gleam in his eyes when he got up from his seat. "Doggone it all, Kirk, enough with the theories!" he barked. "We know it's a weapon! Worse, we know it's headed straight for the heart of the Alpha Quadrant. I'm not gonna just sit around and let that thing chew up trillions of innocent people, so here's my take on it."

He strode over to Jim and got close, almost in his face. Jim kept his face as close to a Vulcan's impassivity as he could manage, but he knew he was frowning slightly at his old friend. Not all was well with Decker and he could tell the older man knew it—there was a slightly crazed flinty look in the man's grey eyes as they narrowed into questioning slits. Decker tilted his head to one side to emphasize his query he had. "I got one question for you, Captain Kirk," he demanded, emphasizing Jim's rank with a poke to Jim's chest. "What are you and your maverick crew gonna do about it?!"

"Now just take it easy, Commodore Decker," McCoy butted in, his southern accent bleeding through clearer and clearer. "First thing on the list right now is gettin' y'all back onboard Enterprise."

He put a hand on Decker's shoulder but the Commodore batted it away and rounded on Dr. McCoy with a warning glare. "Ohhh, no you don't, Dr. McCoy," he ordered. "I stay right here; I'm NOT leaving my ship!"

By now the commodore was redder than a Ferengi with an aneurysm and looked fit to be tied if one of the Enterprise crew didn't intervene. For a moment, Jim entertained the notion that Decker was just blowing the whole shebang about leaving the Constellation out of proportion…at least until he reflected on his own attachment to the Enterprise. Nevertheless, it was his duty as a Starfleet captain to head off and prevent conflict between starship crews if and when possible, especially Starfleet crews.

Jim kept doing his best not to provoke his old classmate's wrath. Decker WAS a Commodore—a full rank above Captain—but he knew one thing about Decker; he responded best to cold, hard fact. "Look around you, sir. There's not exactly a ship to leave! She's all but a dead hulk now." He sighed. "We'll tow her to the nearest Starbase if we have to. Scotty, Carol and I will stay onboard and get her ready. Count on it. In the meantime I want you to go back to Enterprise and get yourself checked into Sickbay by the good doctor here." Bones failed to stifle a grin. "I speak from personal experience here, Commodore," Jim added when Decker's look soured, "don't try and avoid a checkup. Just…don't."

Finally, Decker's smile was genuinely amused. "No, no, I've heard all about Doctor McCoy and how he loves to terrorize patients into cooperating with 'im." He and Bones eyed each other. "I know I've been testy to you all. It's…it's just that I've never lost a command before." He looked downcast again.

"Even coming close isn't a picnic, sir," Jim replied, recalling Khan. He was about to speak further when the whole command team's communicators suddenly blared to life. "Enterprise to away team. Red Alert."

"Spock, what's going on?"

Red alert klaxons could be heard faintly through the communicator's audio link as Spock explained. "Long range sensors have detected a large unknown object closing in on our current position, Captain."

Jim bristled. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't coming for coffee. "Copy that, Mr. Spock," he replied. The whole room had fallen deathly still as Jim barked orders. "Kirk to Transporter Room One—beam over Doctor McCoy and Commodore Decker immediately!" The best option for now was to stick to the plan. Spock could handle running the Enterprise for now. "Mr. Spock, I want you to try and draw the thing away while we try and get this vessel ready for towing. Get my ship out of here—make maximum impulse, but don't go too far. Push those new engines as hard as you have to." He nodded to Commodore Decker and Dr. McCoy seconds before the two men vanished in twin whirls of light. "Dr. Marcus, Scotty, do what you can—I want engines, phasers, something; get this wreck functional somehow, I don't care how."

"Captain—"

"Spock, I'm a little busy right now."

"Captain." Spock interjected, and were someone to have asked, Jim would've sworn up and down and by his father's grave that (for the first time in his life,) his first officer actually sounded afraid. "Details indicates the object approaching is the same 'planet killer' that attacked the Constellation."

Instantly realizing the implications, James T. Kirk looked up and locked eyes with Carol Marcus, whose expression of dawning horror reflected a mirror image of his own before she gasped two words. Just two. But Jim couldn't help but share the sentiment.

"Oh, no…"

To Be Continued…