Title: Five Times James Kirk Managed to Get Off the Transporter Platform by Himself, and One Time He Just Couldn't
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy (this one)
Rating: K+
Word Count: 1359 (this one)
Summary/Warning: I stumbled across an unfulfilled, anonymously-requested prompt (see overlong title above) in a very old Star Trek meme on LiveJournal, and couldn't get away from it. As I've thoroughly corrupted my good friend Protector of the Gray Fortress into a new fandom-obsession, we present our next collab. Yes, five-and-ones are done all the time, but that doesn't mean they're not great fun, especially when halfed with a friend. :)


Five Times James Kirk Managed to Get Off the Transporter Platform by Himself, and One Time He Just Couldn't

IV.

They hear the distress signal from much too far away. The distance is so great Uhura has trouble picking it up, when they finally do come into contact it's a garbled whisper over the channel.

"By my estimation it will take us two hours to reach their location, Captain." Spock reports coolly over the desperate voices calling for assistance.

Kirk nods, his face grave and lined so it suddenly looks like he is the oldest of Starfleet's Captains rather than its youngest.

"Warp factor seven, Mr. Sulu."

Spock shares a knowing glance with McCoy over their captain's golden head. The speed is excessive, the engine has only been recently patched together with whatever miscellanea and trash Mr. Scott can fix it with. It will push the Enterprise to her limits.

But it will still be much too slow for the troubled vessel.

Seeing the rigid, determined line of Kirk's shoulders Spock motions Uhura to continue the transmission internally, through her headpiece. The voices are quieted for now much to the bridge's relief…Kirk is too focused to notice.

They are only eitheen minutes away when the lieutenant pulls the headset from her ear and lets it land shakily on the console, lowering hear head between her dark trembling fingers. The impact rings like phaser blast in the tense room and Kirk's out of his whirling chair in a moment, he takes up the headpiece before either of his friend's can stop him.

He holds it to his head for a moment, and as they watch his face grows older, his eyes fade and grow reflective with dread, like two shallow pools of murky water. "Mr. Spock…" the name comes shakily, like it's hard to remember it for a moment. "…take over communication please."

The Vulcan readily relieves his Captain of the task, McCoy watches the younger man go back to his chair and lean over it, shoulders hunched, grim and hawklike, eyes fixed on their progress.

Spock shows no reaction, though his face goes carefully blank, and from the natural icy repellent of his demeanor it is obvious he is working to maintain his shields.

The Doctor shudders in sympathy. He knows firsthand how much emotion can come through just voices, let alone touch. He wonders if humans or Vulcans are more receptive to sound. Mind you…considering those ears…

"Bones," Kirk is pushing himself away from the chair, they are only ten minutes away. The Captain is not bothering to make eye contact as he commands…never a good sign. "Go and get a med-kit, bring an assistant, meet me in the transporter room."

He does not relish the task ahead, but it is a relief to leave the room and the gallows atmosphere surrounding it. Funny, how most people nowadays don't even know what that means anymore.

Eight minutes later they're all on the pad, Kirk, Spock, McCoy, two armed ensigns, and nurse Aarons. Scott works the controls himself, aware that the Captain will be far too impatient for any of his sub-engineers.

As soon as they are close enough the Scotsman energises and for an instant they are nothing as their particles are transferred to the ship…then their feet solidify on metal decking once more.

Only it is not just metal decking anymore, and they slip and skid the instant they're real again.

The nurse shrieks, and grabs the nearest ensign to keep her footing, her boots are awash with the muck on the ground, coolant, wiring, debris...and something that only adds to the metallic smell.

Kirk's hand goes to the steady his first as the Vulcan staggers--McCoy keeps a hand on the wall--and he looks down at the chaos. The frail spark of humanity inside him barely has time to cringe before thin, insistent hands are shoving him down against the wall like McCoy. A shout goes up…a warning from someone…and a light bursts in the corridor, blinding and quick. And just as quickly Aarons and her ensign are added to the chaos; gone in the same instant.

The second man is on the ground as well…but he is moving, arm clenched around his red, and reddening tunic, groaning and twisting in the wiring that sparks around him.

But Kirk does not have time to go to him, another light flashes…no two, he is shoved facedown, once again by Spock; he sees a face, blank, eyes open and unresponsive, hand clenched around a communication device.

He heard her voice, he realizes. That was her voice he heard, vibrant and alive not more than twenty minutes ago…panicky and desperate…begging for help…pleading. He can still hear it echoing in his head as he looks at her face.

She can't be more than seventeen.

"Doctor get back!" He looks up to see Spock, simultaneously aiming down the corridor and trying to hold McCoy down with one hand. Bones is putting up a spectacular fight, swearing the air blue and trying to fight his way to the wounded ensign. The man has stopped moving…but that is no guarantee that he can't…he could just be unconscious.

"Let me go you heartless hobgoblin!"

Spock has never shown emotion to McCoy. In fact he seems to make a special effort of hiding it around this particular human. But as Kirk watches the Vulcan shoves him down, rather roughly, and the force of it is startling. Bones thuds to the ground, looses all the air from his lungs and stares at the Vulcan with that wide-eyed look Kirk has only seen a handful of times before.

Spock's free hand snatches up his communicator, he fires again and something dark and hulking shrieks and retreats further down the hall…but it does not disappear…it is there still, lurking, surging, readying itself for attack.

"Energize, Mr. Scott!"

And all too quickly they are back on the pad, safe and secure, in a clean, sterile atmosphere that does not stink of blood and burning and corroded metal. It is like waking from a nightmare…except that their clothes are still soaked in the remains of the other ship…and its occupants.

Kirk crouches beside his companions for a long moment…then he fights his way to his feet, brushing off Scotty's hand. He has to get to the Bridge…there is a ship to blow up, and hostile creatures to destroy, he can crouch and cringe later.

He steps off the transporter pad…but in his head all he can think about is how many people cannot do the same. And the voice in his head, seventeen, female and desperately frightened. It will be calling forever, he realizes, and in the dark hours of the night he might hear it now and again, pleading for help.

And he'll never be able to answer it.