Complications

Chapter 7

Stardate 2260.66

Jim sat impatiently in his chair waiting for the second they dropped out of warp and M'Qtobau was finally in front of him and he could actually do something. The sedative that Bones had given him had forced him to rest, but the moment his alarm had gone off his mind had begun racing. He and the rest of the command team had been on the bridge for over an hour now, though he suspected Spock had been there most of the night overseeing things, and he was still working through all the possible scenarios in his head. He just wanted to act, not sit here and wait.

"Sixty seconds," Sulu called out from his seat.

Jim took a deep breath. Soon. Soon. He repeated over and over again. I'm coming Marissa.

"Mr. Spock?" Jim looked back over his shoulder.

"All departments are ready, Captain."

"Uhura?"

"Ready to hail as soon as we're out of warp, sir," she replied briskly, one hand still scanning through channels as she looked up at him briefly. "Still no transmissions from the planet, but there's lots of planetary surface chatter. We'll be able to pick up more of it once we're there."

"Good, keep me informed," Jim told her.

"Thirty seconds," Sulu intoned, and Jim felt his stomach clench.

I'm coming, his mind silently spoke. I'm coming, Marissa. Just hold on.

No one knew what to expect. The planet could be swarming with rescue and recovery ships, or maybe just one or two. M'Qtobau was pretty far out of the way from most galactic shipping lanes and since it wasn't a member of the Federation it was left alone.

"Three, two…one." And the Enterprise was out of warp. M'Qtobau was before them in all its turquoise, watery glory, looking like a particularly beautiful marble, with only the blemish of a small weather system in its northern hemisphere. Not another ship in sight.

"Hailing Prividan City now, Captain," Uhura called out.

A second later the face of a mid level bureaucrat filled the Enterprises' view screen.

"Prividan City, this Captain James T. Kirk, of the USS Enterprise," Jim spoke. "We're here in response to your distress call regarding the attack on Malloribia."

"Yes, Captain," the man nodded officiously. "I do apologize if your ship has been discommoded, but there is no emergency. We are not in need of assistance at this time. We do appreciate your response, but…"

"Are you saying there was no detonation in the city of Malloribia?" Jim interrupted.

"There was, but Chancellor Utabiwa was mistaken as to…

"Because our sensors are showing a huge spike in epsilon radiation," Jim interrupted again.

"There was an explosion," the man said again, beginning to look a bit flustered. "But…"

"Our scanners show that the city is totally leveled for almost a twenty kilometer radius," Jim continued mercilessly, glancing down at the PADD in his hand as Chekov fed him data on the planet as quickly as he received it. "That doesn't seem to me that Chancellor Utabiwa was mistaken."

The official took a deep breath and did his best to look in control of the conversation. "We are handling the situation, Captain," he said pompously. "We are not in need of your assistance. Thank you. You may leave and continue on your own business. We are fine."

"No," Jim told him, his heart was racing, but he remained outwardly calm.

"No?" the official looked at him incredulously. "I assure you, sir that we can take care of ourselves. We do not need interference from you or your Federation."

"I don't doubt that your government is fully capable of taking care of your people or this situation," Jim stated and the other man seemed to deflate somewhat. "But I am not leaving. We have a team of people down there and I'm not leaving until they're back on board."

The man looked confused. "A team? I…"

"They were visiting at Ambassador Loular Boyarsky's request," Jim explained.

"Oh," the man paused, looking as if something had just occurred to him. "Captain, Ambassador Boyarsky – and anyone with him – is dead. His home was the target of the attack, everything radiates from there. If that Federation woman was a member of your crew I'm sorry for your loss," he said, though it was obvious from the tone that he didn't mean it at all, "but she and the majority of Malloribia are dead. Prividan City out."

And with that, the screen went blank and was once again filled with the view of M'Qtobau from orbit.

"What the hell? That woman?" Jim muttered under his breath, doing his best to breath evenly as his stomach dropped. She is not dead, she is not dead, he repeated to himself.

"Spock?"

"Everything is as we expected, Captain," Spock said calmly from his station. "The Epsilon radiation is high, but it is no longer spreading. From my calculations, the dead zone is roughly eighteen point four seven kilometers from the detonation point. For the next two point three kilometers I suggest a seventy percent death rate with the percentages decreasing by seven point two percent for every kilometer after that."

"In English, please, Spock," Jim asked, his face pale and doing his best to hide his shaking hands by clutching the arms of his chair.

Spock nodded. "The survival rate within the detonation zone is less than two percent, and those that did survive are unlikely to live for long due to radiation poisoning."

"Jesus," Jim whispered.

"I calculate that anyone over thirty kilometers from the detonation point has a seventy percent chance of survival, though radiation sickness will vary due to terrain and wind patterns."

"Jim," McCoy strode onto the bridge looking pissed off. "What's the hold up?"

Jim continued to stare out the view screen, his mind trying to comprehend what Spock was – and wasn't – telling him.

"The M'Qtobauans have denied our offer of aid, Doctor," Spock replied for him.

"They what?" McCoy growled. "Are they stupid or something?"

"Not that I am aware," Spock replied causing McCoy to glare at him. "It is their decision as to whether we can give them aid. We can not force them to accept…"

"That's a bunch of horseshit," McCoy argued. "They need help. We can…"

"Bones," Jim interrupted, raising his voice before McCoy could get a good head of steam going. "Are they capable of taking care of something like this on their own?"

"Jim…"

"Are they?" he demanded.

McCoy let out a breath. "Yes, they can, but that doesn't mean we can't help. There are people dying down there and…"

"I know that, Bones," Jim snapped. "And I'm not giving up, but we can't force them to accept either." Turning a bit, Jim looked over at Uhura. "Get me someone down there. Someone official – the viceroy or something. Someone who can make a decision and not just spout party line crap."

"Yes sir," Uhura responded promptly.

"Chekov, how goes the scans," Jim asked, his heart once again beating fiercely. He wanted to help the M'Qtobauans, but he also wanted to find his team. Every second they were in orbit was time they could be searching and scanning.

"Negatif, Keptin," the young navigator responded. "I'm sorry."

"Keep scanning," Jim told him.

"Aye, Keptin!" Chekov returned to his screen.

"Hannity?" he swung his chair around.

"Yes, captain?" she sat up straighter and looked over at him.

"What the hell is going on down there? What's being said? Who did this?"

"Well, Captain," she began, not looking at him, but down at her screen. "A small group of anti-Federation… uh… terrorists. There's a lot of press about the Federation interfering and about… about…"

"Spit it out Lieutenant," Jim demanded, seeing her hesitation and knowing she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"They're saying, sir, that Lieutenant O'Donnell is a prime example of why they shouldn't enter the Federation – arrogant, entitled and overconfident. They're saying that she said that they're lucky the Federation took notice of their small planet and was willing to help them, otherwise they'd never have the chance to evolve into a… proper… planet worthy of becoming a member of the Federation some day."

There were gasps from around the bridge at her words.

"The hell you say," Bones snarled.

"What the hell," Jim barked as he leapt out of his chair and stomped over to Hannity's station.

"It's what's being said in the press, sir," Hannity said. "I would never… I don't believe it at all, but that's what they're saying."

"I know, Hannity, I know," Jim said somewhat calmly. "I don't believe it either." He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Show me."

With a few touches on her screen, she brought up the information she had found, standing quickly, she let Jim have her seat. The whole bridge crew watched as he read and scanned, his face becoming redder and his scowl fiercer.

"Captain," Uhura's voice interrupted his reading. "I have Prime Minister Onniekerk."

"Put him on screen," Jim said in an overly controlled voice. Standing he moved over to his chair, but didn't sit down.

A middle-aged M'Qtobauan appeared on the screen, the wrinkles around the eyes a bit deeper than man he had spoken to before.

"Prime Minister Onniekerk," Jim nodded, "this is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise."

"Captain," the man nodded regally. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I think that is the question I should be asking you," Jim stated. "We're here in response to the distress signal one of your chancellors sent out. I have a fully staffed and supplied medical team waiting to beam down to help with the situation around Malloribia."

"We thank you for that, Captain, but the situation is under control," Onniekerk replied. "I'm afraid Chancellor Utabiwa was a bit…panicked. We are fully capable of taking care of our own people."

"I understand that," Jim replied. "But I am still offering to render aid. Our team can be there in a matter of minutes and do whatever needs to be done. My chief medical officer will report directly to whoever is in charge if you like."

The prime minister pursed his lips. "Thank you, Captain, for the kind offer, but our answer is still no."

"At least let us…"

"Captain, we are a sovereign planet," Onneikerk bit out angrily. "We do not fall under yours or the Federation's jurisdiction or protection. We do not need your assistance, though we thank you for it."

"Fine, I can't make you accept aid that is freely offered," Jim acknowledge, "so I'll just pick up my crew members…"

"Your crew members?" the prime minister looked at him incredulously. "Captain, I believe my aide explained to you that the center of the detonation in Malloribia was the home of Ambassador Boyarsky. Your team – as well as Ambassador Boyarksy – is dead."

"How do you know?"

"I had a communication from the Ambassador last night, telling me that he had arrived safely at his home and was looking forward to a few days of relaxation," the prime minister said. "The detonation occurred before sunrise the next morning. They are dead. We've lost over 10,000 people in this horrible attack and while we thank you for your offer of aid, we do not need the Federation meddling in our affairs any longer."

"This wasn't the Federation's fault," Jim countered. "It was unfortunate and…"

"Excuse me, Captain," the Prime Minister interrupted with a sneer, "but I think we know who is at blame here."

"And just who is that?" Jim asked, folding his arms across his chest and staring at the screen belligerently.

"Had your Federation kept away from our planet and let us make our own decisions, things might have gone differently. But you had to send someone like your Lieutenant O'Donnell to stir things up and incite the fringe elements."

"It wasn't the Federation who bombed your city, Prime Minister, and there is no way that I would ever believe that Lieutenant O'Donnell would incite anyone."

"I don't know how well you know your crewmembers, Captain," he said snidely, "but some of the things that she said about our planet were not only out of place for any diplomatic representative, but rude and insulting. I have no problem laying the blame for this horrific attack at her feet. Had she remained quiet; had she not forced her way onto our planet, the city of Malloribia would still be standing today. All societies have members they are not proud of, and while joining the Federation was a highly contested debate, her presence and her attitude were what incited the terrorists to act. Right now, no one wants anything to do with the Federation, Captain Kirk, not even your aid. Now if you would please leave orbit. I do not need to deal with even more anti-Federation unrest."

"I don't believe they're dead," Jim stated firmly.

"Well, I can't change your mind," the prime minister replied. "But if they aren't dead, wouldn't you have heard from them by now? You've been in orbit for over thirty standard minutes."

"Your people confiscated their communications gear," Jim snarled.

"Be that as it may," the prime minister shrugged. "They are dead. Believe me, were they alive and I knew it, I would gladly have you take them off my planet."

"I'm not leaving until I know for sure," Jim countered.

"Obviously, I cannot force you to leave, but know this, Captain Kirk, if I find out that you have… transported any personnel onto my planet I will consider it a hostile act and those persons will be treated accordingly. I am asking you to leave. I will contact the Federation president, if I have to, but I want you gone."

Jim smiled, his eyes dark and threatening. "I'll await my orders, but I'm not leaving until I know what happened to my crewmembers."

"As you wish," the prime minister nodded brusquely. And then the screen went blank again.

The bridge was silent as everyone waited for Jim to explode. He sat heavily in his chair, still staring at the screen.

"Spock?" he finally spoke.

"Captain," Spock moved over to stand by the command chair. "At this juncture we are at an impasse. According to Federation law we cannot transport personnel to a planet that has specifically forbid it. It would be considered at the least an uncalled for act of aggression, at worst an act of war."

"That's asinine," McCoy mumbled. "We just want to help. And we want our people back."

Spock glanced over at the doctor, but did not respond to his words directly. "As we do have people on M'Qtobau, we are within our rights to remain in orbit until they are found or we are ordered to leave by a superior officer as long as our presence does not cause further harm or unrest."

"How long?" Jim asked.

"I estimate that we shall be contacted by Starfleet in less than twelve standard hours and ordered to leave the M'Qtobauan system," Spock replied.

Jim leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands scrubbing at his face. "Okay," he sat up suddenly, an air of determination radiating from him. "We have twelve hours or less. We have to find them. Chekov, continue scanning. I want as many free bodies as possible looking over the data, checking for anomalies. We know human signatures are pretty damn close to M'Qtobauan, so we don't want to miss anything. Focus on the mountains to the west and south. Divide into teams if you have to."

"Uhura, I want communications scanning and recording everything they come across," Jim told her, spinning his chair to face her. "This takes priority. We think they have the parts to build a full communicator, it might not have the power to broadcast far – check with security and the science department, and make sure to scan the most likely frequencies. I want everything recorded, but focus on what is most likely first, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Uhura replied, her hands already moving all over her board. As soon as he turned away she began contacting the communication department in the bowels of the ship.

"Hannity," Jim turned the other way. "I want you and your team to download any and all information regarding Lieutenant O'Donnell, Ambassador Boyarsky and his movements, the away team, the Federation, and what the hell happened down there. Go back a week or more before they arrived – I'll leave it to your discretion. Get Roose and her team to help correlate everything."

"Yes, sir," Hannity nodded.

"I want preliminary reports in two hours," Jim told everyone. Standing he looked around he felt a surge of pride as he watched his crew get to work. Nothing but the best for the Enterprise, he thought with a ghost of a smile. "Mr. Spock, I'll be in my ready room."

"Yes, Captain."

Walking with even strides and his spine straight, Jim strode calmly across the bridge. The door slid open and he went inside. It was only when the door slid closed behind him that he allowed himself to let out the huge sigh he had been holding back. Now that no one could see him he, his face crumpled and all the confidence he had been showing on the bridge faded into a look of despair. What if they were too late?

Moving on autopilot, he made his way over to his desk and sat down, resting his face in his hands and reminding himself to breath, trying not to let go of the tight reign he had on his emotions.

It probably wasn't even two minutes before the door opened and McCoy walked in. Not saying anything, the doctor sat down across from Jim and waited. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Jim managed to look up at McCoy, his eyes bleak.

"What if we're too late?" he asked hoarsely. "What if she… what if they're all… What if we're too late, Bones?"

McCoy sighed heavily. "I don't know, Jim," he finally said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "If we are… if they are…gone, then I guess we keep going. Keep living. We don't have a choice. We've lost crewmembers before."

"I know," Jim replied, sitting back and staring absently over McCoy's shoulder. "But this is…I…" he shook his head, unable to articulate what such a loss would mean to him. "What do you think?" he asked sharply, his eyes now alert and boring into his friend. "Honestly, what do you think? Are they dead?"

"I…" McCoy began to speak, but then stopped. "I don't know Jim," he shook his head sadly, looking down at his hands as if they somehow had all the answers. "Given what we know; what we've seen of the planet and the situation… it's… It's not likely that they're alive."

"I won't believe that," Jim snarled. "I can't."

"I don't expect you to," McCoy told him honestly. "But you asked me what I think and… I won't lie to you Jim. The odds aren't good. Even if Chekov and his team can find a humanoid life sign down there, given the odds…" he shook his head.

Jim shook his head slowly, his eyes haunted. "I can't… I won't…."

"I know, Jim," McCoy told him softly. "And I'm not giving up hope. I don't want to be right, but…"

"Stop," Jim said, almost pleading. "Just… I can't…"

"All right," McCoy agreed. "We'll just see what your team of wunderkinds can come up with."

"Yeah, we'll see," Jim agreed absently, once again staring into space. He wanted to do something, he truly did, but he didn't know what. Chekov had the search well in hand with the help of Sulu; Uhura and Hannity and their teams were hard at work; Spock was overseeing everything else. His presence would only serve as an annoyance and interfere with their work, reminding them constantly how important this was to him. They didn't need him breathing down their necks to do their jobs.

It took eleven hours and forty-seven minutes, but eventually the Enterprise was ordered away from M'Qtobau. It took another two hours of Jim arguing before they finally left. They found nothing. There were a surprisingly large number humanoid life signs, but nowhere near where the away team was last known to be; no broadcasts from Federation issued comms; nothing. All the evidence Hannity and Roose were able to find pointed to the fact that Marissa and the Ambassador and the away team had arrived at his home in Malloribia late in the evening. The Ambassador had contacted the prime minister and then six and a half standard hours later the area was bombed by xenophobic militants. There was no evidence to suggest that any of them had survived.

Marissa was truly gone.

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