Hello all! Here's the long-awaited penultimate chapter! Sorry for the slight delay in posting-it was a conscious choice not to post yesterday, and frankly I've been busy today until now. But never fear, here it is.

Enjoy!

Far from the bridge, in a sterile and stiff bubble of containment, Bones and Nurse Chapel busied themselves with final preparations. Tubes were hooked into the unconscious forms of Sarek and Spock, lying in parallel biobeds designed for the sole purpose of surgery. Bones snapped on his gloves and made one more pass at his line of instruments.

"Readings, Nurse."

Nurse Chapel glanced up at the biobed monitors. "Mr. Spock's blood reproduction rate is up over 200 percent. Sarek's heartbeat has risen to 324. Blood pressure 90 over 40, dropping."

Bones gave an indistinct head bob. "I wish I knew whether that was good or bad." He swallowed. "Initiate sterile field."

As Nurse Chapel reached over to the monitors, Spock struggled up to his elbows in a state of half-delirium, muttering to himself.

"Mr. Spock," Chapel said, putting a hand on the Vulcan's arm.

At Spock's continued attempts to rise, Bones sidled over. "Now where do you think you're going?"

"I must see the Captain," Spock said clearly, focused directly in front of him. His eyes were partially glazed, but the determination broke through.

Bones nearly laughed. "My patients don't walk out in the middle of an operation." He shot Chapel a meaningful look, and the Nurse moved toward the table of hypos.

"The alien ship," Spock insisted. "I've just realized that if their power utilization curve is not the norm, it should be possible to identify them this way." He clumsily attempted to swing his legs out of bed, but the IVs in his arm stopped him. "Very important."

Bones placed a hand on Spock's shoulder with a weak, apologetic smile. Then, just off to the side, Nurse Chapel sank the hypo into the Vulcan's neck. He fell back onto the pillows slowly.

"So is your father's life," Bones said quietly, but sleep had already claimed Spock.

Back on the bridge, commands whipped around the room in flurries, every crewmember charged and alert at their stations.

"Target, Mr. Chekov," Jim called out.

"Moving away. Turning now. He'd coming around again."

"Fire as he passes, Ensign." Jim, trapped in his awkward sideways angle in an attempt to appease the crippling pain in his back, ran a hand over his mouth. He followed the path of the enemy ship as it swooped past, nearly rocking the ship with its proximity. A burst of phaser fire lit up the darkness beyond, but the ship continued on its course.

"A clean miss, sir," Chekov said in disappointment. The young Ensign was sweating, though not nearly as much as his Captain.

"Report on his weaponry, Mr. Chekov," Jim said.

Chekov, looking somewhat dwarfed at Spock's usual station, glanced down at the instruments. "Sensors record standard phasers, sir."

Jim nodded. "Standard phasers. Good. They may have more speed, but they're not giants."

Behind him, Uhura's voice rang out. "Captain, the intercoms are jammed. All the ambassadors are asking what's going on."

Jim didn't even turn. "Tell them to take a good guess, Lieutenant," he drawled. "But clear that board."

"He's coming around again!" Chekov exclaimed. Just as soon as the words were out of his mouth, there was another surge of light, and the ship rocked violently. Jim's grunt of pain as he was tossed to the side was lost amidst the shouts of other crewmen.

Bones' heart leapt to his chest as the ship lurched beneath his feet. Deep in surgery, he steadied himself as much as he could. He resisted the urge to wipe his brow of sweat and kept his eyes focused on the task at hand. "One more hit like that, and I'm going to lose both these men."

Off to the side, quietly listening, Spock had woken up again.

The bridge crew scrambled back to posts as the ship was rocked with another explosion.

"Fire control locked into ze computers, Keptin," Chekov said.

Jim kept his eyes ahead. "On my order, fire photon torpedoes two, four, and six. Widest possible scatter." He paused, fixed on the bridge window. When the enemy ship whizzed into view, Jim's jaw tightened. "Fire."

There were a few blasts of light, spurts of color. Then, Chekov's disappointed voice: "Full spread missed, sir. They're moving too fast for us."

"Damnit," Jim said under his breath, passing a sleeve over his sweaty forehead.

"Doctor," Chapel said, voice surprisingly calm, "his heart's stopped."

"Cardio-stimulate," Bones replied, equally calm. His face flushed, however, as another jolt shook the room. In an instant, the room dimmed.

Chapel stood in chilly silence for a few moments before voicing the one thing Bones did not want to hear: "The systems are off."

Not one to miss a beat, Bones took this in stride. "Then get me that old portable cardio-stimulator."

In a flash, Chapel disappeared to the other side of the room and came hurrying back with an old, hand-sized device on a trolley. She switched it on as Bones threw an instrument down on the table. "Call engineering and have sickbay systems put on priority," he said, already reaching for the stimulator.

Chekov's voice was reaching dangerous levels of unease, but he performed his duties remarkably well.

"Number four shield has buckled, sir."

Jim would have to remember to praise the ensign once this was all over. For now, all he could focus on was getting this ship out in one piece. And not passing out.

"Auxillary power."

"Switching over," Chekov said. "Shields firming up. Number four is still weak, sir. If zey hit us zere again, it will go altogether."

Jim grunted his understanding. A few seconds later, the turbolift doors hissed open. It was too much of a strain to turn, but Jim knew exactly who it was. His face hardened.

"Your friends out there are good." He kept his tone light and blasé, but he didn't move a muscle. "They'll have to destroy this ship to win."

"That was intended from the beginning, Captain." The Andorian prisoner, Thelev, took his place standing a few feet from the command chair, flanked by two security guards. From his peripherals, Jim was disgusted to see the alien smiling. He also saw, with mild interest, the broken antennae on the Andorian's head—antennae that were now obviously fake, having concealed the transmitter that had brought the enemy ship to the Enterprise.

"You're not Andorian," Jim said conversationally. "Who are you?"

"Damage reports coming in, Captain. Every deck," Uhura said.

"Number two shield is gone," Chekov added.

Jim licked his now-cracked lips. "Damage control procedures, all decks." He punched his comm. "Engineering, this is the Captain. Cut power on port side except for phaser banks. At my signal, cut starboard power." He shut off the comm and whipped his head to the side to face the Andorian. "Who are you?"

Thelev's grin just grew wider. "Find your own answers, Captain. You haven't long to live."

"You're a spy, surgically altered to pass as an Andorian," Jim said through gritted teeth. "Planted in the ambassador's party to use terror and murder to disrupt us and prepare for the attack."

"Speculation, Captain," Therev said silkily. "Say, that's a nasty bruise you have there."

It took all of Jim's self control, but he ignored the comment and thumbed the comm unit. "Engineering, cut power on starboard side. Maintain until further orders." Without moving his head, he called, "Chekov!"

The bridge lights dimmed to create an eerie shadow land as the ensign rushed back to his usual station.

"What are you doing?" Thelev asked shortly.

Jim swung his head to meet the alien's gaze and shot him a half-smile, half-grimace that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You speculate."

"We're starting to drift, sir," Chekov said. "Shall I hold her on course?"

"No, stand by your phasers, Mr. Chekov," Jim said lazily.

"Aye, sir. Phasers standing by. He's just hovering out there, sir."

"Looking us over," Jim said, nodding. "We're dead, as far as he knows."

Jim could sense the moment the plan dawned on Thelev. "You're baiting him. You're trying to lure him in."

"Here he comes," warned Chekov. "Range decreasing. Speed dropping close to sublight."

"Hold your fire, Mr. Chekov."

"Phasers locked on target," Chekov said carefully, face close to the console. "Range closing. 75,000 kilometers."

A pause, a collective breath through the bridge. The silence was so complete, even the ship seemed to be in anticipation.

Then, Jim spoke.

"Fire."

Phasers tore through space and matter, igniting the sky and generating a flare of white light.

"Got him!" Chekov yelped.

"Secure from general quarters," Jim said coolly. "Lieutenant, open the hailing frequency. If they wish to surrender—"

Out of nowhere, before he could complete his order, another flare, much larger this time, erupted in front of them. The small enemy burst into a mass of colors of such intensity that the bridge crew was forced to shield their eyes. The brightness, like a mini supernova, reached a peak, then subsided gradually into millions of burnt-out particles.

"They could not surrender, Captain," Thelev said quietly. "They had orders to self-destruct."

Jim allowed himself a few calming breaths to settle his racing heart, working to keep his face as impassive as that of his First Officer. "Lieutenant, relay to Starfleet Command. Tell them we have a prisoner."

Uhura murmured her understanding, but Thelev broke through with an unsettlingly calm purr. "Only temporarily, Captain. You see, I had orders to self-destruct, too. Slow poison. Quite painless, actually, but there's no known antidote." As the horror dawned on Jim, Thelev raised an eyebrow. "I anticipate another ten minutes of life."

As much as he resented the alien, as much as he hated him, Jim's mind raced, and he swung around immediately. "Take him to sickbay," he told the security officers. "Quick."

The security officers nodded and began to lead Thelev out, but before they could even make it up the steps to the turbolift, the alien's face fell. "I…I seem to have miscalculated."

He collapsed in the grip of the security officers, his body slumped awkwardly forward and feet twisted on the ground.

Fighting a wave of nausea, Jim closed his eyes for a brief second. When he opened his eyes, with all of the aches and pains in his body, he felt older than he had in a long while.

"So did they," he said. "So did they." Standing stiffly, unable to hide the contortion of pain on his face as the adrenaline wore off and he stretched, he nodded to Chekov. "Mr. Chekov—take over." As he passed by the communications station, he muttered, "Uhura, with me."

He walked gingerly to the turbolift, glad for once in his life to be relieved.

Yay! The Enterprise made it out of this one alive-though Spock and Sarek are still in question. One more chapter to go to wrap things up!

Thanks for the continued support. I appreciate any and all reviews that come my way!

Till next time,

-Penn