A/N: Hey guys. Sorry for the long wait. I was, as I mentioned last time, on vacation with my family, and we didn't have much of an internet connection, so I was, sadly, unable to update. Then, just as we were heading for home, the Norway attacks happened, and, consequently, when I got home, I didn't feel much like writing fanfiction. My family, friends, and I are all ok, but it's been a pretty hard week all the same. So I'm very sorry for keeping you waiting, but I trust you can understand.
Anyway, enough of that dreary talk. On to Chapter 10! Now, as I warned you in the A/N before my first chapter, I will be taking a bit of a break after this installment. I need to write the remaining chapters, and because of a very hectic spring finishing my BA in English Literature, I did not have much time for fanfiction before the summer. The summer has also been rather busy, and I'm hoping to have more time now, but I also have to work (to pay rent and buy food and stuff). So I'm going to give you a tentative date for the continuation of this fic: Oct. 7. I know I'm keeping you waiting a ridiculously long time, but I hope you will want to stick with me anyway. If I finish earlier, I will naturally also start posting again sooner. I'll post updates on my profile as I go along.
As always, I have to take a moment to thank my glorious beta, and friend, Judin. When I finish this fic, all glory and honor shall be hers. For all of you out there who think you don't need a beta: You're wrong. It's not just about correcting language errors (I flatter myself I'm quite adequate in that department), it's about encouragement. It's about finding someone you can bounce ideas off of, someone who will nitpick, who will be honest and tell you when something doesn't work. It's about getting the story out of your own head and into someone else's. When you're writing a story, any story that you work on for a certain period of time, you have a tendency of becoming blind with regards to it; you don't always see that circumstances which are perfectly logical in your own mind, don't always make sense, or sound good, to an outside reader. This is where a good beta is essential. Find one! Just a little piece of advice from me, and an homage to the utterly fantastic Judin.
So I hope you'll enjoy this. Without further ado, then, Chapter 10!
Spock turned to see the Captain tense in his chair. His finger hovering over the comm. button, he took two deep breaths, then, his voice steady but unusually quiet, he said,
"I'll be right down."
He rose swiftly from his chair, almost as if doing so quickly could alleviate some of his apprehension. Turning, his eyes immediately found Spock's, and the Vulcan knew the Captain would wish him to accompany him. Spock's calculations were completed, the course was laid in and the Enterprise was on its way; there was no logical reason to refuse this service, although he knew the more he supported the Captain in every little thing, the more difficult it would be to leave him, as he knew he must, and soon.
"Spock, I'd like you to come with me," Captain Kirk said, confirming Spock's assumptions. He looked at Spock with such unmasked need that the Vulcan instantly complied, cursing his human weakness even as he moved forwards.
The Captain gave Mr. Scott the conn. and then he and Spock stepped into the turbolift, Spock taking very great care to look straight ahead of him. He could not analyze why he was made so particularly uncomfortable at this precise moment, but he could feel his hands shaking in their vice-tight grip behind his back. He could feel, rather than see, the Captain's eyes on him.
"Spock, are you alright?" Captain Kirk asked, and the question surprised Spock so greatly that, abandoning his decision to keep his eyes directed forwards, he snapped his head around and met his Captain's worried gaze.
"Yes, Captain," he said, a little breathlessly, then, pulling himself very forcefully together, added, in a much more tranquil tone, "I am fine. I believe I am a little fatigued."
"Does your head hurt?" the Captain asked, eyeing Spock's forehead, which was now sporting a small but efficient bandage.
"My head is not causing me any discomfort worth mentioning," Spock replied. There was a small pause during which the two men looked at each other. Then Spock said, "You appeared distressed, on the Bridge."
Captain Kirk kept his eyes on Spock's, looking like he had an immeasurably heavy weight on his shoulders. However, Spock did not need the Captain to tell him what was distressing him, for with a very small margin of doubt, Spock was quite certain he knew.
"You will have to tell her," Spock said, voicing his theory, "of the slaughter on the Starbase. You wish you could spare her the information."
The Captain turned his eyes down for a moment, and turned them back up with a grimace. With a jerky, unexpected movement, he gripped one of the control levers and stopped the turbolift in its progress. Spock frowned, and for a moment the small space was filled with an almost oppressive silence.
"You don't forget something like that," Captain Kirk said finally, his voice very small, yet coarse. "You don't just leave it behind you – it follows you, haunts you … it defines you. We don't know what she's already seen. Maybe she knows, or at least suspects, but I have to go down there and destroy any grain of hope she might have left. I have to scar her for life."
He looked at Spock as if he wished the Vulcan to tell him that he did not have to do this, that he could somehow escape this responsibility, but Spock could not say anything of the sort. It was Captain Kirk's undeniable duty, as Captain of this ship, to give the girl the news. Spock could not change that. However, the destruction was not the Captain's fault, and it was useless for him to blame himself for any pain the girl might experience.
"You are not to blame for what has happened," Spock said, voicing this thought aloud. "You cannot place that responsibility on your own shoulders, merely because the task of relating the tragedy to its survivor falls to you. It is not logical."
Captain Kirk shook his head and let out an utterly mirthless laugh. He did not say anything further, but restarted the turbolift, which, a short minute later opened up on Deck 5. Spock did not know what to make of this reaction, so he followed the Captain out without a word.
They stepped into Sickbay and were instantly approached by a rather stressed Doctor McCoy. Captain Kirk made a move towards the other room, but his progress was impaired by the Doctor, who stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Wait a minute, Jim," he said in low tones. "She doesn't know anything."
The Captain frowned. "What do you mean, Bones?"
"I mean she doesn't know anything," Doctor McCoy replied, casting a brief glance towards the doorway before turning back to them. "I thought something was funny when I did her blood work. Her blood contained a very large amount of antibodies, like she was fighting off an infection. At first I just assumed it was from the trauma, but her t-cell count seemed very high. So I ran some more tests." The Doctor paused. "She was already sick, Jim. And she confirmed that herself just now. She was in the infirmary when the attack happened. Someone must have knocked her out with a powerful sedative or something, because she doesn't remember how she got her injuries. She has a vague memory of someone lifting her out of bed, and then everything is blank."
Kirk moved his eyes to rest on the wall behind which the injured girl rested. "She was unconscious the whole time she was in the wall?"
Doctor McCoy made a slight shrug, shaking his head. "It's very difficult to separate what parts are reality and which ones are hallucinations. She said she remembered a closed, dark space, which might have meant that she woke up for short periods at a time while she was lying in the wall, but it could also just be part of her coma. I honestly don't know."
"She did not see her attackers," Spock said.
"Not as far as I can tell," the Doctor confirmed.
They were silent for a moment; all three of them had their eyes on the doorway. Then the Doctor spoke again.
"Jim," he said, and his tone had altered materially; it took on a note of cautiousness, as if he knew just how utterly unwelcome his next words would be to the Captain. Captain Kirk clearly noticed the change, his eyes becoming hard, his lips forming a thin, unyielding line. Doctor McCoy, apparently undeterred by this, continued, "I thought you should be the one to tell her."
A shadow passed across the Captain's face, although his expression remained otherwise unchanged. "Did you?" he said coldly. The question was met with silence. "How very considerate of you, Bones."
Doctor McCoy shook his head. "You're the Captain, Jim," he said simply, but his expression was apologetic.
Some of the rigidity seemed to pass out of Captain Kirk's spine, and his shoulders slumped. "I know," he said dejectedly. "Right now I just wish I weren't."
Spock knew that the Captain would not make such a statement lightly, and for a moment it was like a rope had tied itself around his midriff and was pulling him decisively towards his friend. With difficulty, he resisted the urge to put a hand on the Captain's shoulder. Captain Kirk, for his part, steeled himself once more, and, probably feeling that further procrastination would only serve to amplify his apprehension of the coming conversation, he strode past Doctor McCoy into the room beyond, the Doctor and Spock following directly behind him.
The young girl, upon seeing these three men enter, two of them strangers to her, sat up in her bed and regarded them with a slightly nervous curiosity. Spock frowned; the girl was young, as he had previously conjectured, but there was an unsuspected sense of maturity and experience in her expression which, naturally, had not been discernible while she was unconscious.
Captain Kirk stopped at the foot of her bed, his arms held stiffly at his sides, his expression somber. "I'm Captain James Kirk," he said quietly, and there was an almost mechanic quality to his words. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better."
He did not look remotely glad, and the young woman seemed to have noticed, for she frowned, a growing feeling of uncertainty plainly evident on her features.
"I'm Yana," she said, "Yana Andreev."
Her voice was surprisingly deep; if Spock were to have ventured any hypotheses as to her vocal chords simply going by her appearance, he might have supposed her to be a soprano; she had a very slight build and, apart from the eyes, an almost childlike face. She spoke with a Russian accent, which, though less pronounced than Ensign Chekov's, was still noticeable.
"You worked at the Starbase," Captain Kirk said.
Yana Andreev's frown deepened. "I work there, yes," she replied, a note of hesitation in her voice. "I am a communications technician."
From out of the corner of his eye, Spock saw the Captain draw a deep breath. "Doctor McCoy says you don't remember what happened," he said heavily.
Yana regarded him with eyes in which a growing sense of dread was battling the need for information. Her lips shook slightly as she parted them to speak.
"I – do not remember," she almost whispered. "I was sick. They were treating me in the Infirmary …" She trailed off, her eyes becoming momentarily unfocused. "There was a noise," she said, speaking slowly and tentatively, as if she were struggling to remember a dream. "A loud noise. I woke up and Doctor Knightley was bending over me – I think he gave me something … Then I woke up here."
Captain Kirk took a step forwards. "And you didn't see anything, hear anything?" he said tensely.
Yana's lips were pale. She looked at the Captain with hardened eyes. "What happened?" she said, her tone plainly fearful, yet determined.
Captain Kirk made a move as if he meant to make some sort of physical contact, but then thought better of it. Rather uncharacteristically, he put his hands behind his back. Spock frowned. The Captain cleared his throat softly. Perhaps he thought it would help the words flow more easily.
"There was an attack," he said quietly, and his voice was steady, professional. Spock felt, despite his best efforts, an avid admiration for him; for a human, Captain Kirk could, at times, discipline his emotions with a near-Vulcan conviction.
Yana looked at each of them in turn, then shifted in her bed, looking around her as if she expected to discover recognizable faces standing at a distance. Finding no one, she turned back to Captain Kirk, her forehead creased with a line of worry.
"Why did you bring me here?" she asked, her voice beginning to sound strained.
"There was an attack," the Captain repeated. "The creatures who attacked you destroyed the station. We were on our way to you for some repairs and restocking, and when we were a few hours away, we received a distress call. It was several days old and had probably been blocked by interference." Captain Kirk was speaking rather quickly, as if he wished to get this all out with as little delay as possible. Yana looked as if she were having trouble digesting the information. "We increased speed and got there as fast as we could, but … it was too late."
Something blank seemed to pass across Yana's eyes. "What … what do you mean?" she said, her voice very soft, and very small.
Captain Kirk took another, steadying breath. "The creatures who attacked you destroyed everything," he said. "We found you in a small compartment in one of the walls – someone must have hidden you there. Everyone else was … everyone else was dead. I'm – very sorry."
Yana's eyes widened and she let out a short, stunted breath. "No," she said, as if she could ward off the truth with a word. "No. You're lying. You're not – it can't ..."
The poor girl's face was completely white, the little color she had regained from her convalescence draining from it as rapidly as water runs through cupped hands. The Captain's face was almost equally devoid of color, his mouth set in a very thin line, his eyes empty and grey. Spock felt for him very deeply. The Captain's experience on Tarsus IV was, if not precisely similar to this, then probably a forceful reminder of how he had once survived where many others had been destroyed. Spock did not envy him that memory.
"I am sorry," Captain Kirk repeated dully. "There was no one else. We found you in the walls, badly injured. Everyone else we found ..."
He trailed off, seeming to think further description unnecessary. Yana looked as if someone had struck her violently across the face. Her chest heaved as her breathing grew more rapid. She clutched at her sheets with frantic fingers. Spock's feeling, as of recently so completely invested in his own dilemma, went out to the girl, and for a moment he wished, illogically, that he could alter reality.
"Everyone ...?" she said, her voice a mere whisper, and several heavy tears cascaded down her face.
Captain Kirk took a measured breath, and nodded. "Yes."
"I'm the only one left?"
There was a note of plea in her voice now, as if she desired nothing but to hear that this had somehow all been an enormous misunderstanding, or else an elaborate trick. Once more, however, Captain Kirk was forced to nod.
Yana's face twisted in pain, and she let out a strangled moan which seemed to come from the very depths of her soul. Captain Kirk, whose color had turned rapidly from white to grey, seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then he moved forwards and, sitting down on the edge of the bed, gripped Yana's hand in his own. She did not seem to notice the contact at first, then Spock saw her hand tighten in the Captain's. Spock exchanged a glance with Doctor McCoy, who looked as if he did not know quite what to do.
"Captain," Spock said tentatively, but Captain Kirk sent him a look that made it very clear to him that he should be quiet. Spock placed his hands behind his back and looked once more at the Doctor, who shrugged.
All of them remained still for several, long moments, while Yana sobbed quietly and held on to Captain Kirk's hand with white fingers. Finally, placing his other hand on top of hers, Kirk said,
"I know there's very little I can say to make this better. But you're alive. You can keep going, live your life."
Yana, whose eyes had been locked on her covers, looked up at Captain Kirk with a tearstained face and a hard expression
"Live my life?" she said shakily. "I've just lost most of my friends and all of my colleagues, and you tell me to live my life?"
Captain Kirk held her gaze unwaveringly. "Yes," he said, "that's exactly what I'm telling you. You have a family, don't you?"
Yana breathed slowly. He jaw quivered. "Yes," she answered.
"Good," Captain Kirk said firmly, his tone and expression suddenly hard, unyielding. "You have someone."
Yana was looking at him as if she did not know quite what to make of this. She did not attempt a reply, but turned her head towards Spock and Doctor McCoy, perhaps hoping they had some explanation for this behavior. Spock was becoming worried that the Captain's investment in the situation would overshadow his better judgment. He stepped forwards, but was once more halted by a look from Captain Kirk.
"Listen," the Captain said, and his voice was kinder now, softer, the hard edge gone as swiftly as it had appeared. Yana turned back to him. "You might find this difficult to believe, but I know how you feel."
Yana frowned, and Spock and Doctor McCoy exchanged another look. Captain Kirk had not previously spoken of this experience willingly.
"I'm sure you've heard of the incident on Tarsus IV," the Captain said, and Yana, looking mildly confused, nodded. "There were four thousand of us," Captain Kirk continued. His voice sounded utterly lifeless. "Nine survived. I was one of them."
Tears continued to run soundlessly down Yana's pale cheeks, although now a trace of sympathy mixed with the sadness visible on her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again, averting her eyes for a moment before once more fixing them on the Captain.
"You keep going," Captain Kirk said then. "I'm not saying it won't be hard. I'm just saying it's possible." The Captain's eyes darkened with some unknown memory, and his next words were spoken so softly that they were almost inaudible:
"At least you didn't see it."
The silence that followed this was so dense it was nearly tangible. For the span of about ten seconds, no one spoke or moved. It was as if they had all been subjected to a kind of trance. Then Captain Kirk stood up so suddenly and decisively that it caused the other humans in the room to jump. Yana's hand twitched as the Captain's was pulled away, and she looked at him with eyes full of pain.
Captain Kirk was white as a sheet, his skin vaguely reminiscent of paper. He avoided everyone's gaze as he fidgeted with a corner of Yana's covers.
"Jim," Doctor McCoy said, his voice betraying a mixture of understanding and chastisement.
The Captain did not reply; he looked as if he regretted speaking in the first place.
Yana continued to gaze at him steadily, her eyes still running over with moisture. There was another moment of silence. Then,
"I'm sorry," Yana said softly.
Captain Kirk, whose eyes had been fixed on some point very far away, turned his head in her direction, and, for a moment, made an utterly useless attempt at a smile; achieving only a kind of vacant grimace, he seemed to realize that his facial muscles would not allow any show of contentment at the moment and settled his expression instead in a slightly less pronounced frown.
"It was a long time ago," he muttered, trying, and failing, to sound like it no longer had an impact on his life. He straightened up. "I need to return to the Bridge," he said, his tone at once businesslike. He looked at Yana. "Let Doctor McCoy know if you need something. And if you remember anything, let us know."
With that, he turned and walked swiftly out of the room. Doctor McCoy turned to Spock with a worried frown.
"See that he's alright, will you?"
Spock looked at the Doctor and nodded. He then strode swiftly out of Sickbay. He turned left and hurried along the corridor. The Captain had said that he intended to return to the Bridge, but Spock knew that Captain Kirk would not wish to be seen by his crew before he had regained his composure, so Spock headed towards the Captain's quarters.
He caught up with his Captain not one minute later. He was walking rigidly towards his quarters, his shoulders tense, his hands clenched into fists. He turned as he heard someone approach, but, perceiving Spock, merely turned back.
"I need a minute, Spock," he said dismissively.
Spock walked swiftly after him and put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Captain –" he started, but he was abruptly interrupted as the Captain turned. Spock's hand fell to his side.
"I said I need a minute," Captain Kirk snapped, his gaze directed at Spock's left shoulder, as if he would not, or could not, meet the Vulcan's eye.
He turned and disappeared into his quarters, and Spock found himself staring at the white front of a closed door. Spock remained standing in this attitude for the duration of approximately one minute before he arrived at the conclusion that the Captain's stated "minute" probably incorporated a longer time span than the customary sixty seconds. Still, Spock did not move. From within he could hear faint sounds, and, almost unconsciously, he stepped closer to the door, which remained shut. The Captain must have locked it. Several minutes passed by while Spock battled with himself. Finally he raised a hand and knocked sharply on the door. The sound rang strangely through the empty corridor. The sounds inside the room ceased abruptly and were replaced by clear indications of movement. Spock waited. A moment later the door slid open and the Captain emerged, his face drawn, his eyes dry but red-rimmed. His face and posture expressed fatigue and marked irritation.
"What, Spock?" he said curtly. "I told you I needed a minute."
By Spock's calculations, the Captain had, in fact, had approximately seven point three minutes, but Spock did not feel it was necessary or helpful to point this out.
"You are distressed," he said instead.
The Captain closed his eyes for a moment, then he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Spock with exasperation etched in every line of his face.
"I'm not in the mood for stating the obvious right now," he said irritably. "Go back to the Bridge. Do your job. I'll be up in … a little while."
And, once more, the door slid shut, hiding the Captain from view. Spock hesitated for another moment, then he turned and strode swiftly to the nearest turbolift. Once the doors shut behind him he allowed himself a brief moment of weakness, leaning back against the wall and lifting a long-fingered hand to gently rub his forehead, which, though it was not precisely causing him pain, seemed to be buzzing with some unconscious activity.
His plan of distancing himself from the Captain had long since failed, and he was growing more and more convinced that it was simply impossible for him to be around the man without wishing to be in his intimate confidence. He could not see him and not want to touch him. He could not recognize Jim's pain without feeling the need to alleviate it. He knew Jim saw Spock as a friend, but Spock could not be a friend to him while his emotions were so wildly unmanageable. Spock's decision to leave had already been firmly imprinted in his mind, but every day, every moment he shared with the Captain, only increased his conviction that it was not only the right, but the only, thing to do. His insecurities confused and hurt his friend as much as they frustrated himself.
He straightened up and placed his hands behind his back. He would commence inquiries today. He had, for quite some time, wished to become better acquainted with the Vulcan Science Academy. His expertise in the field of science was formidable, but he knew there were many who were much more knowledgeable than him; there was always plenty to learn. Perhaps he would commence some course of study. Or perhaps he could teach.
The turbolift doors slid open and he stepped out onto the Bridge. Mr. Scott, seeing him, vacated the center chair.
"There are some minor problems down in Engineering," he said as Spock approached. "Now you're back, I'll get on down there and see what I can do to fix them."
The Chief Engineer did not look worried, but after everything that had happened over the course of the last days, it would be foolish not to treat every inconsistency with gravity. Therefore, Spock asked,
"What is the nature of these problems?"
Mr. Scott shook his head with an expression of nonchalance. "The interference at the space station seems to have caused some of our instrumentation to lag. Like I said, it's nothing serious. I've already checked the main components, and they're perfectly fine. I just think the systems need some tweaking."
Spock nodded. "I would urge you to be certain, Mr. Scott," he said.
"Of course," the Chief Engineer responded. He left the Bridge, and Spock, instead of sitting down in the Captain's chair, moved over to the Science Station, where he relieved the ensign on duty and sat down before his console.
His instrumentation was still trained on the trail of antiproton residue they were following, and he set to watching the numbers, eyes peeled for signs of irregularities. Naturally, the amounts of residue varied constantly, however, sudden surges or drops in activity might tell them something about their proximity to the enemy vessel, or any changes in direction the vessel made. The work was tiring and frustrating, based largely on assumption and guesswork. Spock did not like it. He liked to know what he was doing, not sit making constant approximations.
Half an hour passed before the Captain returned to the Bridge. He walked calmly in, looking perfectly collected, perhaps aside from a slight shadow encircling his eyes. He acknowledged Spock with a brief glance, then sat down in his chair, taking a moment to assess the situation on the Bridge before frowning.
"Where's Scotty?" he said, his eyes moving around the room and settling on Spock.
"There were some irregularities in the Engineering section," Spock responded. "When I returned to the Bridge, Mr. Scott elected to go down there in order to personally review the difficulties and attempt to repair them."
Captain Kirk lifted a hand to his forehead and rubbed it slowly. "What irregularities?" he said sharply.
"According to Mr. Scott, they were minor, and nothing to be concerned about. Apparently some of the instrumentation developed some slowness after the interference we encountered at Starbase 15. Mr. Scott is, as mentioned, looking into it, and I bid him make certain that his conjectures were accurate."
Captain Kirk let his hand drop to his side, and leaned back in his chair. "Good," he said simply.
The next few hours passed without incident. Spock, who had been staring at his computer almost the entire time, in the hope of making some discovery, was just about to allow his increasingly tired eyes a small pause when his antiproton readings suddenly and unexpectedly spiked.
"Captain," he said immediately. Captain Kirk, probably perceiving the urgency in Spock's tone, rose swiftly from his chair, moving towards him as Spock continued, "My scanners read a sudden upsurge in the antiproton activity we have been monitoring." The Captain stopped behind Spock and, one hand on the Vulcan's console, leaned over to take a look. "It might indicate that we are approaching the enemy vessel."
"Or else that it is approaching us," the Captain muttered darkly. He straightened up and hurried back to his chair. "Shields up," he ordered, sitting down.
Ensign Chekov hastened to obey. "Shields are up, Sir," he confirmed.
"I'm putting the ship on yellow alert," Captain Kirk continued, pressing the appropriate button on his console. "Uhura, give me a ship-wide frequency."
The Lieutenant did as she was told. "Frequency open, Sir," she said.
Kirk pressed the comm. button on his console. "This is the Captain speaking," he said. "I want all hands at battle stations, immediately. We have reason to believe we might be closing in on the enemy vessel. Make yourselves ready. Kirk out."
He ended the transmission and pressed a another button. "Scotty," he said briskly.
"Scotty here," piped the Scotsman, alert.
"I want us ready to move out of range as fast as possible. Have you managed to fix the problem with the instrumentation?"
Mr. Scott's voice sounded apologetic as it emanated from the comm. "I'm pretty sure the system needs a reboot, Sir. I cannae do that while the ship is travelling at warp speeds. It would destabilize the warp core reactor."
Captain Kirk closed his eyes for a moment, breathing slowly. "And any reboot would momentarily take out weapons control and shields," he said, in low tones.
"Aye, Sir."
The Captain turned his head to look at Spock. "Any chance of determining how far we are from the alien vessel?" he asked, his figure poised and alert. Spock turned his eyes back to his scanner, searching for signs of the ship itself, but if the vessel truly was approaching, or if they were closing in on it, the aliens must, as the Enterprise crew had previously speculated, have some sort of cloaking device; Spock's antiproton readings were increasing rapidly, but he could make out no other sign that anything was out here besides themselves, nor could he have any hope of attempting to approximate their distance from the other ship.
"Regrettably, Captain, as long as the enemy vessel is untraceable to our scanners, there does not seem to be any way for us to –"
"What about tracing the antiproton residue to its source?"
It was Ensign Chekov who spoke. He had turned around in his seat, and was looking from the Captain to Spock with a slightly wide-eyed expression.
The Captain frowned. "How do you mean?"
But Spock thought he understood. "You are suggesting we simply follow the trail to its end," he said, looking at the Ensign and feeling a considerable twinge of irritation that this essentially simple idea had not occurred to him.
The Ensign nodded excitedly. The Captain, and several other crew members, retained matching frowns on their faces.
"Isn't that what we've been doing?" Lieutenant Uhura asked.
"No!" Ensign Chekov responded. "Well, yes, sort of. But the antiproton residue gets stronger the closer to it we get – so, now that the other ship seems to be getting closer to us, we can widen the scanning area and search specifically for antiprotons. It should hone in on the spot with the most activity."
"Which should be right around the alien ship," the Captain concluded, sudden understanding alighting on his face.
"Yes," Chekov responded.
The Captain turned to Spock, who immediately refocused on his scanner, entering the valid data into his console and watching carefully for the coordinates the computer would, hopefully, provide. Naturally, this information would not exactly provide them with a precise location of the vessel, nor would it be incontestable. If the unknown aliens decided to attack, the scanners would instantly zero in on the antiproton beam, which would tell them little except approximately how many seconds they had left to live.
"Spock, anything?" the Captain said, his impatience evident in his tone.
Spock, bent over his console, answered calmly, "Captain, we must give the computer time to –" He stopped abruptly as a set of numbers popped up on the computer screen. "Approximation of enemy vessel's location at coordinates 103 mark 6. It appears to be moving towards us at roughly warp one."
"How long before they're upon us?"
"Our two vessels will meet in approximately eight minutes and thirty-two seconds."
Captain Kirk tapped his fingers restlessly on his armrest, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
"How well can our shields hold up against those antiproton beams?" he asked, after a moment's tense consideration.
"We have as of yet been unable to accurately measure the force of these beams," Spock responded. "However, any weapon utilizing antiprotons is, as we have experienced, formidable. Our shields are strong, however I am not certain –"
"When we were attacked on Silicah," the Captain interrupted him in a frustrated tone, "we were hit with a blast of this stuff, as you might recall. Was no one able to make any kind of measurement of the strength of the aliens' weapon?"
He looked from Spock to the crew in general.
"You might remember, Captain, that I was with you at the time, and had no greater opportunity of taking measurements than you had," Spock said calmly, "being somewhat occupied with my attempt at not falling of the mountain."
"And, as Scotty told you, we were taken by surprise," Lieutenant Sulu said. "The alien ship seemed to come out of nowhere, and it blocked all our signals."
Captain Kirk's shoulders tensed so that they formed a rigidly straight line. "I am aware of this," he said testily. "But we are closing fast on this unknown vessel –"
"Or it is closing on us," Ensign Chekov inserted, his eyes on the viewscreen, where the vast expanse of apparently empty space was looking more and more foreboding the closer they travelled towards the enemy they could not see, the unknown foe they knew was out there, somewhere straight ahead.
"Yes, thank you Chekov," the Captain snapped. "I simply wish to know how long our shields could withstand a weapon of the magnitude we have witnessed. Any ideas, calculations … guesses?"
His eyes once more moved to Spock, who felt a sense of frustration mingling with a sudden and inexplicable fondness. Venturing into the waters of pure speculation was much more agreeable when he knew that Jim Kirk favored Spock's on-the-spot conjectures to the thought-out, scientific analyses of others. Spock felt the corner of his mouth turn up minutely, as he failed to entirely suppress the feeling of satisfaction which, despite their precarious situation, was illogically making itself impossible to ignore.
"As you know, Captain," he said, feeling some pretence at protest was necessary, "I do not habitually guess."
The Captain rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't habitually go toe-to-toe with an enemy I can't see," he said impatiently, "so I'd say this is a day for exceptions."
Spock suppressed another smile. "Very well," he conceded. "Antiprotons are so destructive because any collision with a proton, the matter with which much of our vessel and its weaponry is built, will cause both particles, and all that they encompass, to be annihilated in a burst of energy. Our shields, which contain a high concentration of gravitons, deflect energy by gravitating it away from the ship. Theoretically, we therefore have two conflicting theses. It is possible that our shields, when hit by a beam of antiprotons, will perform as they always do. It is also possible that the encounter between the matter and antimatter will cause a massive explosion. This depends entirely on how concentrated the aliens' antiproton beams are. Most such weapons combine antiprotons with other matter, and if this is the case, our shields do have a possibility of holding up, at least for a little while."
Captain Kirk stood up. "But even if the shields do hold up, an antiproton beam is such a formidable weapon that we cannot expect them to survive for long," he reasoned.
"No, Captain," Spock agreed. "I do not believe we can hope to take more than one, maybe two, direct hits."
The Captain clenched his jaw, his arms stiff at his sides. He bent down and pressed a finger to the intercom on his armrest and hailed Mr. Scott.
"Scotty, what's our present reaction speed?"
There was a slight scramble on the other end before the Chief Engineer responded. "Sorry, Captain, I was runnin' some tests. Present reaction speed, Sir?"
"Yes."
"It's difficult to say."
Captain Kirk sighed. "I had a feeling you might say that," he said. "What can you tell me?"
"Well," the Scotsman responded, "at the moment, our reaction speed is diminished. As I mentioned, I believe the system simply needs a reboot, but we cannae do that without –"
"Leaving the ship vulnerable, I know," the Captain cut him off. "How long would this reboot take?"
"Ah, the ship would be up and running in about half an hour, Sir."
Captain Kirk shook his head. "That won't do. We'll simply have to take our chances. Be on the alert, Scotty. I want this ship prepared to jump out of here, lag or no lag."
"Aye, Sir."
The Captain looked at Spock, and then out of the viewscreen. His jaw was set, his eyes alight with determination. Spock did not need to hear Jim Kirk say the words to know that the Captain would give everything he could to go after these aliens. Spock knew it would be his duty to regulate the situation.
"Spock, time until encounter?" the Captain inquired.
"Approximately five minutes and forty-two seconds, Captain."
"Chekov." Captain Kirk turned to the Ensign. "I want photon torpedoes armed and ready. Spock, provide present coordinates for the center of the antiproton activity. Be as precise as you can manage."
"Yes, Captain," Spock responded. He relayed the coordinates to Ensign Chekov's console. "Coordinates ready," he said.
"Chekov, lock torpedoes on those coordinates, and hold them steady."
The Ensign hastened to obey, a fine sheen of sweat visible on his brow. "Torpedoes locked and ready, Sir," he said.
"Good. Wait for my signal. Uhura," he turned to the Communications Officer. "Play this message on all frequencies, and in all known languages and codes."
Lieutenant Uhura nodded, and Captain Kirk sat down in his chair. "Frequencies open and ready, sir," the Lieutenant said after a few, short moments.
The Captain seemed to steel himself.
"To unknown alien vessel," he said in a clear and commanding tone Spock could not help but admire. "This is Captain James Kirk, of the Federation starship Enterprise. Request identification."
They waited. Spock personally doubted, judging by the actions of these aliens, that they were the type of creatures often enticed into friendly conversation. However, it would be illogical to entirely categorize a species based on such limited knowledge, so Spock kept an open mind. The Captain's frown was growing more and more pronounced, his eyes intense as they stared out of the viewscreen as if nothing else were present. After roughly half a minute of waiting, Captain Kirk tried again.
"Hailing unknown enemy vessel, this is Captain James Kirk requesting that you identify yourself."
Again, somewhat predictably, there was no response.
"Perhaps we don't have any record of their language," Lieutenant Uhura suggested.
"Or maybe they just don't want to communicate," Captain Kirk countered, leaning back in his chair. "Uhura, hail the Donovan. Get me Captain Jordan."
"Yes, Sir."
The Lieutenant flicked some switches on her console and pressed a finger to her ear. A few moments later, the voice of the Donovan's Captain rang across the comm.
"Captain Kirk," he said slowly. "Is everything alright? We're not scheduled to rendezvous for another fourteen hours."
"I know," Captain Kirk responded quickly. "We're coming up on the alien vessel, and it seems like a hostile confrontation will be unavoidable."
Spock noted that the Captain did not seem at all unhappy about this fact. He could hear the frown in Captain Jordan's voice as the other Captain answered,
"I must remind you that you promised to make every attempt at avoiding conflict, Captain Kirk."
"They do not respond to our attempts at communication," Captain Kirk responded, very clearly unfazed by Captain Jordan's reminder of his former promise.
"So you have decided to go in guns blazing," Captain Jordan said, his tone laced with disapproval.
"We can either run away or defend ourselves," Captain Kirk responded, which, in Spock's mind, did not quite answer the other Captain's question.
"Kirk –" Captain Jordan started, but apparently Captain Kirk had not had a long conversation in mind when he hailed the Donovan.
"I just wanted to let you know about our situation," he said curtly. "We'll be very grateful for your assistance as quickly as you can get here."
There was a very telling silence on the other end. Spock knew enough about human behavior, perhaps particularly the behavioral patterns of human males, to know that Captain Jordan would not be happy with this dismissive response. A human phrase involving the not entirely eloquent term pissing sprang, unbidden, to Spock's mind. Highly illogical though this expression appeared to him, he nevertheless thought it might just be relevant to the situation.
"I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't advise you not to go up against this thing alone," Captain Jordan said after a tense pause.
Captain Kirk's face was immobile. "Your warning is noted," he said tonelessly. "Kirk out."
Spock felt this would be a practical time to voice his concern that the Captain was taking this mission a little too personally, however, one glance at his computer informed him that they were quickly running out of time, so he would have to defer his advice to a later time.
"Two minutes, thirteen seconds until encounter," he announced.
Captain Kirk spun around in his seat, meeting Spock's gaze briefly before turning to the helmsman.
"Mr. Sulu, on my mark, take us slowly down to impulse speed," he ordered.
"Yes, Sir," the Lieutenant responded.
The atmosphere on the Bridge was tense. Spock did not think it at all likely that they would come away from this encounter in one piece, and it was evident that several of the crew members were thinking along the same lines. Ensign Chekov, his hands stiff on his console, was shifting his eyes between the view screen and the switch that engaged the photon torpedoes. Over at the Engineering Station, Lieutenant Wilson, a tall, red-headed man, was working ardently, every once in a while receiving directions from Mr. Scott, who was still down in Engineering. Spock moved his eyes to the Captain, who was sitting on the edge of his seat, his back tense.
"One minute, twenty-one seconds, Captain," Spock informed him. Captain Kirk nodded where he sat, his attention fixed straight ahead.
"All right, Sulu," he said, "slow her down, now."
The helmsman decreased speed. Spock watched his screen.
"Uhura, try to get me in contact with the alien vessel again," the Captain said, and the Lieutenant swiftly complied. "To unknown vessel," the Captain said again, "this is Captain Kirk, of the Federation starship Enterprise. Identify yourself."
As before, there was no reply.
"You have attacked one of our Starbases, as well as this ship and its crew, and we demand to know who you are."
The Captain turned to the Communications Officer with an expression that seemed to include both expectation and hopelessness.
"I am not receiving any indication of a reply, Sir," Lieutenant Uhura said, "however, the signal seems to be going through to … somewhere. I believe they are getting our message."
Captain Kirk turned back around and focused his eyes out of the viewscreen, his nostrils flaring. He breathed slowly, presumably to calm himself down. He once more pressed the comm. button on his console.
"Alien vessel, I am giving you fair warning," he said, his voice loud and firm. "If you do not cease your hostile activities and identify yourself, we will have no choice but to open fire."
Spock frowned as he regarded the Captain. "I am not certain that commencing hostilities against the alien vessel is a wise choice, Captain," he advised.
Captain Kirk turned to him. "What other choice do we have?"
"The vessel is clearly moving towards us," Spock replied, "which, in my view, must mean that it wants something with us. We could turn about and allow it to follow us until we come within range of the Donovan. It would be useful not to be alone against an enemy with such a formidable weapon."
The Captain shook his head. "Our mission is to seek out alien life forms, not run away from them," he responded, somewhat harshly. "There is no way to know that the alien ship will not simply increase speed and catch us anyway, or else turn about themselves and be lost to us. This is our chance to find out who they are."
And make them pay for what they did hung, unspoken, in the air.
Spock did not think further argument would serve towards anything but slowing their progress, so he desisted. He inclined his head briefly towards the Captain and turned back to his station.
"Warp one," Mr. Sulu said then.
"New time estimate, Mr. Spock," the Captain requested.
Spock regarded his screen. The Enterprise's decrease in speed would have afforded them a little more time before the encounter. "Five minutes, twelve seconds," Spock replied.
"Their speed?"
"I read no change; it appears they are maintaining warp one."
Captain Kirk frowned pensively and put two fingers to his forehead, rubbing it slowly. "Mr. Chekov," he said, after a moment's pause, "how long until we're in firing range?"
Mr. Chekov checked his statistics. "With photon torpedoes, approximately two minutes, Sir," he answered.
"Ok," the Captain said, in a decisive tone. "If the alien vessel has not responded within that time, I want you to take your best aim into the middle of whatever is out there, and fire off a torpedo."
Captain Kirk looked meaningfully at Ensign Chekov, who swallowed nervously. "Captain, are you sure we should attack them?" he asked tentatively. The Captain eyed Mr. Chekov with a frown. "They seem very good at destroying things," the Ensign explained, moving uncomfortably in his seat.
The Captain regarded him for a moment before replying. "That's why we're attacking now," he said. "The farther away we are, the lower the risk to ourselves."
Spock, despite his decision to let the discussion lie, could not avoid commenting on this. "Captain," he said. "I would not be performing adequately as your First Officer if I did not mention the inherent flaws in this plan." Captain Kirk looked at him with raised eyebrows. "My primary concern is that it is entirely possible the other ship's weapons have just as long a range as ours do, which, naturally, will eliminate the advantage of –"
"Yes, thank you, Spock," the Captain cut him off, waving an impatient hand in his direction. "What do you suggest, then?"
"My suggestion remains the same," Spock replied calmly.
"Wait for the Donovan?"
"Yes."
Captain Kirk gritted his teeth. "Well, we don't have time for that." He breathed slowly through his nose. "I'm not going to risk losing these creatures, Spock," he said in low, intense tones.
Spock glanced around at the Bridge crew, all of whom were looking nervous as they concentrated on their various tasks. He moved closer to the Captain and spoke softly.
"I fear you are making this personal," he said frankly.
Captain Kirk's expression was decidedly dissatisfied as he turned his eyes on Spock. "Of course it's personal," he hissed quietly. "Whoever these aliens are, they killed the crew of an entire Starbase. They killed Mallory. They fired on me and my crew and almost killed my –" He stopped abruptly and turned his eyes briefly in the opposite direction. Perhaps Spock imagined the slight blush around the Captains cheekbones as he looked back towards him, nevertheless Spock's hands throbbed unpleasantly. He fastened them safely behind his back, although he was unable to keep his lips from twitching slightly downwards.
"I can't avoid my personal involvement," the Captain continued, as if the little, unpleasant pause had not occurred, "but this is, first and foremost, official. Starfleet has ordered us to arrest and interrogate these creatures, and I have every intention of following Starfleet's orders." Spock opened his mouth to argue, but Captain Kirk cut him off. "I am not allowing them to destroy any more people. This is not just about us and this ship. This is about all the races and people who might suffer if we don't take this chance to stop these attackers. Besides, if we were to turn our ship around every time we came face to face with something potentially dangerous, we would never have made it past Mars."
The Captain's eyes were alive with fervor, however his tone contained something which seemed to Spock to be searching for approval. Spock did not know that he could give it to him. However, once more, he conceded defeat.
"Very well, Captain," he said, with the merest shrug of his shoulders. "I have voiced my concerns."
"Yes, thank you, Spock," Captain Kirk replied, averting his eyes.
Spock returned to his station.
"Uhura," Kirk said briskly, "you are still sending my message on all frequencies?"
Lieutenant Uhura nodded. "Yes, Sir," she replied.
"And there is still no indication of a reply?"
As if to reassure herself, the Lieutenant pressed a finger to her earpiece, then she shook her head. "I am afraid not, Sir."
Captain Kirk turned to Chekov. "Ensign, you have your orders," he said.
Mr. Chekov breathed slowly. "Yes, Sir," he replied, his tone somewhat lacking in enthusiasm.
Spock was no less reluctant to fire blindly towards an enemy who might very possibly be powerful enough to destroy their entire ship with one shot. However, although parts of his rational thought objected to this, he also knew that the Captain's view of the situation was, although colored by his personal involvement, if not infallible, then at least valid. Letting this vessel go might prove equally dangerous. After all, the lives of one ship's crew could not compare to the lives of millions of others across the galaxy.
"Photon torpedoes locked on … middle of antiproton activity," Mr. Chekov said, with a skeptical frown.
Captain Kirk's eyes were fierce as he looked out of the viewscreen, and his voice was eerily soft as he said,
"Fire."
A bolt of energy shot out of the Enterprise's underside, and flew swiftly forwards. For several, tense seconds the Bridge crew was completely silent. Every person seemed to be holding his breath. Spock's eyes were the only ones moving, as they shifted between the viewscreen and his console. Then, at a spot thousands of kilometers away, the torpedo exploded in a blast of energy. Captain Kirk sat up rigidly in his chair just as Spock refocused his eyes on his screen, where a sudden fluctuation in energy revealed that the torpedo had actually made contact with something. Spock raised his eyebrows as he turned towards the Captain, who was watching him with an expectant expression.
"That looked like a hit," he said breathlessly. "What do your instruments show?"
"It would appear the torpedo –" Spock started, but was abruptly cut off as the ship was rocked by a violent blast, which, like before, appeared to come out of nowhere.
Prepared for eventualities, all the Bridge crew managed, despite the bucking of the vessel, to remain in their seats.
"Red alert!" Captain Kirk called, jamming his finger down onto the button. "Shields! Give me shield statistics!"
The Ensign over by the Engineering Station scrambled to read the information on his screen. "Shields are holding!" he shouted.
"Spock!" the Captain called hastily. "How close are we?"
Spock shook his head. "The closer the two ships are to each other, the more difficult it is to pinpoint the location of the other vessel. However, the initial countdown would indicate that there is still approximately one minute twelve seconds left until our two vessels meet. Unless the other vessel has dramatically increased its speed –"
"Spock!" the Captain interrupted, sounding slightly strained. "Skip the lesson – just tell me how close we are!"
Spock raised an eyebrow and repressed a wave of annoyance. "I estimate that our two vessels are still several thousand kilometers apart."
"Are we in phaser range?"
Had Spock been human, he would have chosen this time to roll his eyes. As it were, he settled for a frown. "There is no way to make an estimate with any degree of precision," he replied, keeping his tone as even as possible. Captain Kirk made a frustrated noise. "I would suggest simply trying," Spock said calmly. "It seems the only logical alternative."
Captain Kirk took only one, short moment to consider this, then he said, "Fire phasers! Now!"
Before Ensign Chekov could obey this command, however, another blast shook the Enterprise, and they were all forced to grab onto something in order to remain in their chairs. The Ensign on duty at the Engineering Station, having been completely immersed in the shield readings, was thrown from his seat onto the floor. As soon as the ship stopped quaking, Captain Kirk jumped from his seat and, bending over Ensign Chekov's station, fired a phaser straight ahead. They could see the light streaking into the darkness, and then, after an alarmingly short pause, it collided with something; the even expanse of space was disrupted as the outline of the enemy vessel became momentarily visible. It was dangerously close to their own. Spock hastily consulted his computer and, for the first time, managed to get a reading on the enemy ship itself. A few seconds passed before he noticed the other vessel's speed.
"Captain!" he said, turning swiftly around. "The enemy vessel is still coming towards us at warp one – unless we turn the Enterprise away, we have only one minute, thirteen seconds before our two ships collide."
Captain Kirk swore and rushed back to his seat. "Sulu, can you maneuver us out of here?" he asked urgently.
The helmsman shook his head, clearly distressed. "I can't turn her that fast, Captain!" he said. "We need more time!"
Without delay, the Captain punched his fist down on the intercom button. "Scotty!" he said loudly. "I need you to put us in reverse. Immediately."
Scotty sounded decidedly harassed as he responded. "I cannae do it instantly, Captain; I need a minute to –"
"We don't have a minute!" Captain Kirk interrupted him hurriedly, his voice strained. "Do whatever you have to, just get us moving backwards! If you don't, we're going to be very dead in about one minute!"
"So no pressure or anything," Sulu muttered darkly, his fingers flying over his controls as he tried to make the Enterprise swerve left as swiftly as possible. Little beads of sweat were forming near his hairline, his face intense with concentration.
A flash of light preceded a new jolt, which ran through the Enterprise, creating a sound reminiscent of a dull hum. The ship did not so much shake this time, as vibrate.
"Chekov!" the Captain shouted. "Keep firing! And Ensign –" He turned towards the Engineering Station "– keep me updated on the shields! Scotty!" he said, once more hammering the intercom button with what Spock would determine unwonted hostility. "How are we doing down there?"
"Fifteen seconds, Captain!" the Scotsman replied breathlessly.
Captain Kirk took a deep breath. "We really know how to cut it close, don't we?" he said to the room at large. "Sulu –" He looked at the helmsman "– how quickly are we turning?"
"Not quickly enough," Mr. Sulu replied, "but I'm doing my best."
"Spock, any estimates?" the Captain inquired, turning to him.
"Approximately thirty-eight seconds to impact, Captain," Spock answered.
Captain Kirk groaned and turned towards the Engineering Station. "Shields?" he asked briskly.
"Holding up at 89 percent," the Ensign on duty responded.
"Thirty seconds," Spock informed.
"Reverse thrusters ready and working, Sir!" Mr. Scott's voice declared across the intercom.
Captain Kirk breathed. "Good man, Scotty," he said. "Sulu, reverse now. Put some distance between us and that ship."
"Aye Sir," Mr. Sulu responded, and there was a grinding noise as the Enterprise's engines were put in reverse.
Spock, his eyes on his computer screen, was feeling slightly less than optimistic about this. By his calculations, it would take a small miracle for this vessel to move backwards quickly enough not to in some way collide with the alien ship. Spock did not generally believe in miracles. He moved swiftly over to the Captain and placed a hand on the back of his chair.
"Captain," he said in low tones. "It is not sufficient. We cannot turn swiftly enough in order to avoid a collision."
Captain Kirk looked at him with a tense expression. "Is there any possibility that our shields will soften the blow?" he asked.
Spock shook his head. "Our shields are made chiefly to protect the hull from bursts of energy, not to deflect large, metal objects," he responded. "The damage might be slightly lessened, but not in any material way."
For one, extremely tense moment, Captain Kirk held Spock's gaze, his eyes clear and focused. Then he once more sprang from his chair and moved over to Mr. Sulu.
"How much have we managed to turn?" he asked, looking out of the viewscreen, and then down at the helmsman's instruments.
Mr. Sulu frowned. "We've turned approximately twelve degrees to the left, but since we're reversing, we're flying –" he started. Captain Kirk hastily interrupted him.
"Angle us to the left," he ordered.
The helmsman looked at Captain Kirk with a confused expression. "But that would expose our engines to –"
"Precisely," the Captain said, and Spock suddenly understood what he was doing. The Vulcan found himself impressed with Captain Kirk's logic. "We'll expose the engines, and rescue the saucer section."
Mr. Sulu continued to frown. "I'm not sure –" he started, but the Captain cut him off sharply.
"Do as I say," he said. "Now!"
The Helmsman obeyed, and slowly but surely, the Enterprise veered left. Spock, who had moved back to his console, checked his computer and instantly took his seat.
"Impact imminent," he stated, and the rest of the Bridge crew sat down as well.
Captain Kirk was the last to sit down. "Hold on," he said, his shoulders tense as the ripple in space came closer and closer until –
A resounding crash rent the air as the alien vessel slammed into the side of the Enterprise. There was a hectic scrambling as they were all swallowed in darkness. Then everything was still.
A/N: Forgive me?
It's a mean cliff hanger, I know. I'm sorry. Judin nearly throttled me the first time she read this. And you're going to have to wait for the next installment a lot longer than she had to.
But, I hope you've enjoyed this story so far, and I will be a diligent little writer-bee and finish this story, so that you can read it as soon as possible. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far - there aren't that many of you, but you're awesome! You all make my day.
Until October, then!