MISSING


Disclaimer: I own sixty-one episodes on VHS, and my grandpa taped a movie or two (but I don't really like the movies). I own a bunch of ST books, but when I wasn't that into Star Trek I set them away for a garage sale. Now they're somewhere in my garage, and I can't find them. When I was six, I owned a blue shirt with the Starfleet insignia on it. I also owned a phaser that lit up and made plew-plew-plew noises. And I still have this Enterprise model from when I was younger…somewhere. In my room, somewhere.

Unfortunately, none of this means that I own Star Trek.


A/N: Sorry this took so long in coming out! Here's a longer chapter to make up for the wait.

Oh, right. I wanted to mention that this story takes place during the original five year mission. That fact doesn't make much of a difference right now, but it should be at least slightly important later. (The plot bunnies have finally multiplied and I know where it's going...yay...)

Happy reading!

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Chapter Four

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McCoy waved his mediscanner wearily at Scotty. According to his equipment, there was nothing wrong with the engineer. At least, McCoy amended, nothing except for the fact that Scott claimed to have seen a tricorder zooming around Engineering like—as he called it—a scary wee beastie. McCoy rubbed his face tiredly with his free hand. The last thing everyone needed was to lose the Chief Engineer to a strange bout of insanity.

"Have you seen anything else strange lately?" he asked.

"No, I haven't," Scotty replied, shaking his head. "It was just this tricorder, and just for a moment. You hafta believe me."

"I believe you," McCoy said. He believed, at least, that Scotty honestly thought he'd seen the floating tricorder. But there was no use in adding that. A sudden thought occurred to him, and he said, "Wait a minute--whose tricorder was it?"

"I dunno, I never thought to look," said Scotty. He picked up the offending tricorder from where it still lay on the wall-floor, fiddled with the controls, and reported, "Why, it's Mr. Spock's!"

McCoy's eyebrows rose as if they had a life of their own. "Are you sure?" he asked. After all, there was no logical explanation for Spock's tricorder to be in Engineering. But the idea of a tricorder buzzing around the ship on its own wasn't much more credible. He wondered vaguely how Spock would take the news—the poor Vulcan was working so hard to make everything fit together, and this would probably throw him off again.

Now where did that thought come from? McCoy wondered, shaking his head slightly as if to rid himself of it. Spock would take the news as he took all other strange news: with a contemplative expression and, most likely, a twitch upward of an eyebrow. And why on earth did he, McCoy, even care?

"Oh, I'm sure," Scott said after a slight pause. "I'm tellin' you, it just flew in here. D'you want to see it?" Scotty proffered the tricorder and McCoy took it, scowling at the now deceptively innocent piece of equipment. After a short moment he slung the strap over his shoulder, fighting the foolish notion that it would come alive and strangle him.

He sighed and checked the last of the readings on the mediscanner. Still, it reported nothing. "Well," he said, "it looks like you're healthy, both mentally and physically. I think I'm going to deliver this"—he raised the tricorder—"to its rightful owner. Just…let me know if you see anything else."

"Aye," Scott acquiesced. He sounded a little rueful, and McCoy guessed that the engineer thought he was going insane.

McCoy didn't even know what to think. As he traversed the hallways of the still-sideways Enterprise, he tried to puzzle everything out. The animated tricorder, Kirk's disappearance, and the messages must have been connected somehow. There was no way for events that happened in such a short span of time to not be connected.

He tried to run through a mental list of known enemies that had both the power to control gravity, the ability to make tricorders levitate, and the motivation for kidnapping the captain. He came up rather short. As far as he knew, neither Klingons nor Romulans could manipulate gravity well enough to tamper with The Enterprise's internal gravity, and he had never heard that Klingons could make things levitate. (Well, he'd seen an article in a tabloid about a Klingon who could bend spoons with his mind, but that didn't exactly count). None of the known beings with the power to do any of this had any particular reason to take Jim.

Well, there was always the possibility that the Klingons were paying someone to do this. Or that someone he didn't know had it in for Jim for some reason. Or that this didn't really have anything to do with Jim at all, and he'd simply been the unlucky victim of an unknown alien's attack. God knew that happened enough.

He was still pondering the situation (and having no great revelations) when he reached Spock's quarters. Ducking through the sideways doors he found the Vulcan in much the same place on the floor as he had been before.

"Spock!" he called out in greeting.

Spock didn't even look up. "I think there is something you should see, Doctor." His tone was serious and McCoy could detect an undertone of worry that he doubted anyone else would have been able to pick up.

"Did you get into his files?" he asked, crouching beside Spock.

The Vulcan nodded and pressed a button on the console. Immediately, the screen lit up and a dark cloaked figure materialized against a backdrop of bright white. The figure began to speak, in a tinny, translated voice: "Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. Do not question my identity, for it is not important, and I do not wish for you to know it. I am neither a friend nor an enemy. I simply have information that might be of interest to you." The message ended abruptly.

"That," Spock said, "was the first message. The captain replied to that with 'I'd like to talk more in person.'"

"What's so bad about that?" McCoy wondered. "Is that what you wanted me to see?"

"If you would give me a moment," Spock said, "I would show you more."

"Well, go ahead."

Spock nodded, barely masking his irritation, and hit another button on the portable console. "This," he introduced, "is a two-way conversation between the captain and the unknown person."

The screen once again faded to white, and the hooded figure appeared. "Greetings, Captain James T. Kirk," the figure said.

Jim's voice played back from the console in reply. "Greetings," the captain said. "I respect your request for anonymity, but how should I address you?"

"Call me nothing," the figure said harshly.

Though McCoy could not see the captain (for the computer only played back his voice as he had spoken to the figure), he could easily imagine Jim's expression, amused and puzzled and a little affronted all at the same time.

"Alright, then," Kirk answered. "What is it you wanted to speak to me about?"

"I understand that you are not on good terms with Klingons or Romulans?"

McCoy raised an eyebrow and realized that Spock had just done the same.

"No," Kirk said, "No, we're not."

"I have a proposition," the figure went on. "If you would like, I can arrange for peace between all of you. But," he added abruptly, "you must not speak of this to anyone."

"No one?" Kirk asked. "Why? And how can you do that?"

"You do not need to know my reasons," the figure said. "Simply believe that I truly wish for peace. All will be revealed to you shortly."

"I—" Kirk began. He was interrupted by a whistle of the intercom, and McCoy heard Spock's voice faintly in the background, calling the captain to the bridge. "I have to go," Kirk said. "I'm sorry. But I will consider what you've said. How should I contact you?"

"You may reply to my first message. Your computer will allow you to do so." The figure cut the connection.

"He did, didn't he," McCoy stated.

Spock nodded. "Yes, that was the second of his messages, requesting to speak more in person. The next few communications are similar to the first. Because it would be extremely time-consuming to watch them all at this interval, I will summarize. The alien speaks of a planet where Klingons and Romulans are ready to meet with a delegate of the Federation. However, the alien demands, for reasons he cannot say, that the captain represent the Federation. He wishes to meet the captain somewhere and…escort him to this planet. He orders that the captain tell no one about this, perhaps not understanding that in order to divert the starship, the captain must have a legitimate reason. All of these messages were recieved or sent in the span of three-point-six days."

"I'd like to see those other messages sometime," McCoy said.

"Very well," Spock replied. "I will send you a copy. But I believe I have told you what you must know."

McCoy took a deep breath and remembered suddenly why he had come. "I gave Scott a once over," he said, "And as far as I can tell, he's fine. But the tricorder he saw…it's yours." He pulled the strap over his head and handed the piece of equipment to Spock. "And damned if I know what it was doing in Engineering."

"Fascinating," Spock said. He took the tricorder and fiddled with it for a moment. "Yes, it is mine. I shall have to run tests on it."

He sounded unbelievably weary in that moment, as if running tests on a tricorder was the last thing in the world he wanted to be doing, and McCoy peered at him worriedly. "Spock? Are you alright?"

"I will be fine," Spock answered cryptically. "Now, I would advise you go and tend to the wounded. I will let you know if I ascertain anything else from this data."

McCoy glared at him for a moment. Was the Vulcan still trying to get rid of him? Well, it would take more than that. Shaking his head and frowning, he said for the second time, "Fine," and settled down next to Spock and opened his medikit.

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Sulu awoke feeling rather disoriented. Nurse Chapel was leaning over him, but he could have sworn that everything was sideways. He groaned slightly as his head cleared. Yes, everything was sideways. He was lying on one of Sickbay's walls. "What happened?" he asked.

"We were attacked," Chapel said simply. "And the gravity went out."

"Hmm," Sulu said, considering. "Who attacked us?"

"We don't know," Christine answered. "But they beamed Captain Kirk away. Mr. Spock is trying to find out who they were."

"Ah," Sulu said. He still felt pathetically disoriented, but he shook his head slightly to clear it. The tactic worked as well as it ever did, which was not saying much. "What else?"

"Well, Mr. Scott is working to repair everything. Medical personnel are treating the injured. A few security teams are searching the ship, just in case the captain is still here."

"Who has the conn?" Sulu asked.

It was Nurse Chapel's turn to look confused. "Why, I don't know," she realized. "I think Spock is doing the research in his quarters, and as far as I know he hasn't ordered anyone to the bridge."

"Well, I guess that's my job, then," Sulu said. He sat up. "Am I free to go, Nurse?"

She nodded.

Sulu called Spock before making his way to the bridge. "Sulu here, sir," he said.

"Spock here," came the reply.

"Yes, I was wondering if you wanted anyone on the bridge."

"You may have the conn," Spock replied.

"Spock, sit back down," McCoy ordered loudly enough that he was clearly audible through the intercom. Sulu smiled to himself. Spock no doubt had his hands full with the ornery doctor.

"Sulu out, sir," he said, and made his way to the bridge.

He found that he had an immediate problem in the fact that he had no idea where to sit. The captain's chair was in the middle of what was now a wall. Sighing, he settled himself down on an empty console and wished he'd thought to bring a cushion.

Shortly after, an ensign that Sulu didn't know who was tied into the communications console (Sulu didn't quite understand how, since the actual console was now attached to the wall some ten feet above his head) reported, "Sir, there's a ship nearby, and they're hailing us."

"Who are they?" Sulu asked, searching the screen. He couldn't see anything.

"Klingons," the ensign said, after a short dramatic pause. "Should I patch them through?"

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"Spock, I've got some bad news."

"Yes, doctor?" After a good deal of whining on McCoy's part, Spock had submitted himself to a medical examination. He had already been relatively aware of what was going on in his body, and he knew that upon examination McCoy would only waste more precious time by pushing an immediate treatment. However, he had not wanted to deal with McCoy's incessant urging or his constant presence.

He had had to remove his shirt for the examination, and he shivered in the chill air (Scotty had yet to fix that problem). The shuddering movement made his ribs flare up in pain, but he managed to control it after a short moment. McCoy seemed to take a mental note of all of this, but went on with his report.

"You cracked a few ribs when you fell on the bridge," the doctor said. "I already knew that, and I'm sure you did too. But two of them are positioned in such a way that any significant jarring will send them straight through the tissue of your lungs. I'd like to fix that in Sickbay as soon as possible. I'd also like to get your shoulder back in its socket and set your wrist. Now, you can come with me peacefully or I can sedate you and drag you there."

"Illogical," Spock said automatically in reply to McCoy's ultimatum, "since sedating me and dragging me anywhere would with no doubt jar my ribs."

"Shut up, Spock," McCoy replied.

The intercom whistled, and McCoy jumped up to get it before Spock had a chance to move. "McCoy here."

"Where's Spock?" Sulu's voice was distinctly anxious.

"Spock here," Spock said, rising stiffly from the floor and joining McCoy at the intercom.

"Sir, there's a Klingon ship just within our sensor range, and they're hailing us. They want to talk to the commander of the ship."

"I will be on the bridge shortly," Spock said. He reached for his uniform shirt and pulled it painfully over his head. "Doctor, as much as I would like to accompany you to Sickbay, I believe I am needed on the bridge."

He walked out of his quarters, leaving a scowling McCoy behind him.

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