Chapter Ten: Every Man Dies. Not Every Man Really Lives
Pain was the first thing Jim noticed as he surfaced from unconsciousness. His head was pounding to the point of nauseousness and his ribs were on fire every time he took a breath. He couldn't move his left arm, which was worrisome, and he noticed the distinct feel of bandages wrapped around his hips. Slowly blinking his eyes opened, he about vomited when the piercing glare of Sickbay's lights pierced through his skull. With a groan, he rolled to the side, breathing heavily through his nose to quiet his rolling stomach.
Within moments, Bones and his crew of nurses surrounded the captain, turning to lay him back as McCoy checked his vitals with his tricorder. Jim was in so much pain, he barely noticed the administration of the hypospray until he felt the cooling sensations of the pain reliever flood his system. With a sigh, he regarded his friends saying, "Thanks for that."
"Anytime, Jim. You gave us a hell of a scare before," McCoy said in-between readouts.
"What happened?" Jim groaned as he levied himself into a sitting position, the pain in his ribs making a protest over the medication.
"Take it easy, kid," McCoy admonished, placing his hand on Jim's shoulder to stop him from moving any further. "You were about blown into the next star system a few hours ago. You need to give the regeneration cycle a chance before you go gallivanting off."
Jim shook his head, the cobwebs of his memory not clearing as fast as he would have liked. He remembered being on the bridge, and something important had happened. Starfleet ordered the Enterprise to pursue – pursue what? Jim sat there, confused as McCoy completed his scans. What was he supposed to be doing? He was sitting in his captain's chair as Spock told him of the casualties and the damages. Why were there damages? There were explosions, like the one near his chair that rippled across the ship. But he wasn't on the bridge when the first wave struck. He was in quarters. The women's quarters. Charlie. Like a giant movie reel, the last twelve hours flooded back into Jim's head in rapid succession, from the gym, to deck six and then the bridge. All of his memories returned, and with them the pain of loss. Charlie. That bastard took Charlie.
"Bones, he took her. He took Charlie. I need to get to the bridge! I need to find her!" Jim spouted off quickly, trying to rise off the biobed, his pain only in the back of his mind as his determination set in.
"Woah, woah, hold it, Jim," McCoy ordered, presenting a firm wall to prevent the captain from moving further and re-injuring himself. "I know. I know, man, but you can't help her in the state you're in. Spock has the bridge and he's doing all he can."
"You don't understand, I need to get her back," Jim ranted. "She left to save us, to save the ship. She shouldn't have had to make that decision."
"And we're going to get her," Bones replied like he was speaking to a rather thick child. "But you are doing Charlie no favors by not letting the regeneration cycle work. You have three broken ribs, a broken arm, severe burns to your lower back, and a pretty nasty concussion. You need to heal, Jim. And as your CMO, you are not cleared for duty at the moment. The green-blooded hobgoblin's on it."
Jim glared at McCoy, the last bit a low blow and he knew it. "I promised, Bones. I promised to bring her back."
McCoy stared into Jim's eye for a moment before he sighed, running a hand down his face. "Okay, I can't believe I'm agreeing to this, but I like the spitfire. Twelve hours. Give me twelve hours to get you as patched up as I can, and then you can fly off into the universe in search of her, alright?"
Jim considered the doctor's offer carefully. His desire to rush headlong into the fight was overpowering his rational side. However, McCoy's offer was fair and he did have a point. He wanted to make Sagan suffer for damaging his ship, killing his crew, and most of all for taking Charlie.
"Deal, but I need to speak to Spock as soon as possible, Bones."
"I'll get him. Let's just run through a cycle and I'll comm him."
Two hours later, the whole command team was in Sickbay, grouped around the bed of their injured captain. The blast on the bridge, while destructive, had luckily only severely injured the captain, the rest of the team avoiding the largest of the blast. Sulu and Chekov had some small cuts from flying debris, but other than a few other minor burns the rest were unscathed.
"What have you learned, Spock," Jim asked, reigning control even from the medical bed.
Reading from a PADD, the Vulcan said, "Dr. Robert Sagan was a professor of quantum mechanics at MIT before he became Assistant Director of Physics and Temporal Mechanics at CALTECH. He has been a guest lecturer at several prominent universities around the Federation, including the Vulcan Science Academy before its destruction. He led the board on 'Time Travel and Its Affects' after the Nero incident at Starfleet, as well as sponsoring several up and coming high profile minds for temporal reconstruction from around the Quadrant."
"Temporal reconstruction?" Sulu questioned.
"Yes. It's a new theory that Time Travel capabilities can be used as a function to alter the course of specific events as well as possibly return previously extinct species of flora and fauna to M-class planets. In theory it can transport personnel to distant dimensions in order to understand a wide variety of social, cultural, and political attitudes, which later can be implemented in First Contact Missions. And there is a possible medical benefit from the reemergence of healing flora previously unexamined."
"In a sense, it can be a do-over button?" Jim said.
"It can have that capability," Spock agreed. "There are several ethical and moral issues with the technology however, highlighted especially by the example of our altered universe. It has yet to find a large enough sponsor to develop the necessary research."
"So why did he need Charlie?" Uhura questioned as she leaned against the wall. "Why go back in time to bring her and the others to our timeline? How did he even do that?"
"As of yet I do not know," Spock said. "There is no correlation between the women and Dr. Sagan."
"Other than the fact that he kidnapped Charlie under our noses," Jim gruffly interjected.
"I cannot determine what his motive is. It appears illogical to travel so distantly for one person."
"One person?" Sulu inquired. "But weren't there three of them."
"Yea, but all he wanted was Charlie," Jim explained.
"Miss Aldridge and Miss Turner explained the situation when Dr. Sagan appeared," Spock said. "His plan was to only bring her into our universe, however, due to the close proximity of the other women, they too were sent here. Dr. Sagan seemed to imply that their appearance disrupted his calculations, landing them on Nimbus III, and not his ship."
"Yea about that, where was his ship anyway?" Sulu added. "We scanned everything within sensor range when the intruder alerts went off, and there was nothing. No ship or vessel of any kind."
"Ze ship may 'ave been cloaked," Chekov spoke up. "Ze telemetry of ze transporter signal indicated a close wessel, although we could not see it."
"Great, so either the good doctor is dealing with Klingons or Romulans," McCoy snapped. "Or he happened to commandeer a cloaking device and didn't share with the rest of us."
"That would explain the apparent lack of information from all the other attacks," Spock said, and Jim could almost see the gears turning in his head. "However, neither the Klingons or the Romulans have the capabilities to transport or attack while cloaked."
Everyone sat in silence for a moment, trying to think of how Dr. Sagan could have beamed aboard. "If Sagan was able to go back in time to get Charlie, is possible that he traveled forward to get the advanced technology?" Jim questioned. "I mean it's possible to do anything while cloaked, there just isn't the technology for it yet."
"That is a possibility," Spock agreed. "If he was able to break the time barrier, he could have travelled to any moment in time, forward or back."
"Okay, so you're saying some crazy time doctor has a futuristic starship that can 'seek and destroy' without ever revealing itself," McCoy grumbled. "Well, I'm going to sleep well tonight."
"That still doesn't answer why he needed Charlie," Jim interjected, sending a glare at McCoy. "Why bother going through the effort?"
"Unless there is something he needs that only she can provide," Sulu theorized.
"Yea, like what?" Uhura argued. "It's not like any of them are physics geniuses."
"No, Mister Sulu has a valid argument," Spock interjected. "Dr. Sagan attacked the other ships trying to find Miss Noland. He would not have completed such an action if he did not specifically need her for a reason. Otherwise, his actions would appear illogical."
"So what did he want?" McCoy voiced.
"At this moment, I am not sure."
"Okay, let's think about this," Jim broadcasted, wincing slightly as he adjusted his position. Although the regeneration cycle has helped heal his arm and head, his ribs were still killing him. "What is it that Charlie has that Sagan cannot get from anywhere else?"
"I don't know, Jim, you're the one who saw her the most," McCoy pointed out, making Jim surprising blush at his insinuation.
"Shut it, Bones."
"I'm just saying. You spent a lot of evenings with her. Maybe you picked up on something."
"Or picked up something," Uhura joked. Jim only glared at his communication officer until something clicked.
"That's it," Jim breathed. "Uhura, you're a genius."
"Jim?" McCoy asked.
"Her, he needed her."
"I think we got that."
"No, no what I mean is this," Jim said slapping his arm. "Her. Either her blood, or DNA, something like that. Something in her."
"Why would he need that?" McCoy asked shocked.
"I have a hypothesis," Spock spoke up. "But I need to research further before I am confident in my theory. Permission to be dismissed, Captain."
"Yes please, go, Spock."
The Vulcan nodded, before turning on his heel and exiting the sickbay.
"Okay, well not rain on your parade, Jim," McCoy began. "But even if we know why Sagan took her, we don't know where they're headed."
Jim sighed, resting his head back against the pillow. That was true. He still had no idea where Sagan and Charlie were, or where they were going.
"We think we might be able to determine that, Captain," Sulu voiced, pointing to himself and Chekov. "If we know we're looking for a cloaked vessel, we might be able to pick up an ionized trail. It'll be faint, and it won't lead us to them, but we'll know the general direction."
"Go then, get started," Jim said.
"Actually it's best if we end this little pow-wow," McCoy interjected. "I still have you in here for another nine hours and I'm going to make them count."
With a sigh, Jim nodded, dismissing Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov. Scotty was still working on the repairs trying to bring warp back online. As he laid back against the bed while McCoy worked on his injuries, Jim couldn't stop replaying the desperate look in Charlie's eyes as she stepped toward Sagan. She may been saving him and his crew, but he still owed her for everything she had done for him. She had opened him up for something he never thought possible. Don't worry, Charlie. I'll find you. I will always find you.
Charlie did not know how much time had passed as she lay on the uncomfortably hard metal slab. The buzzing white noise of the ship's engines and the semi darkness of her prison cell made each hour lap onto the other with no end to the isolation. She had spent the first hour pounding against the impenetrable metal door, throwing as many curses and threats as she could until she felt the inevitable flash of pain in her hands and her throat. She curled into a ball by the entrance, the tears of frustration and defeat rolling down her cheeks as her body fought against the uncontrollable panic gripping her heart in a painful clasp. What were they going to do to her? Would they kill her? Torture her? All manner of scenarios were rolling across her mind with nothing in her environment helping to tune out the terrible thoughts.
She finally moved to the slab, her limps protesting painfully from the hours of inaction. However, the pain was a welcome relief, letting her mind focus on something than her own imagination. The dim light in the cell allowed her to see the darkness of blood on her hands from the split skin, the throbbing becoming more prominent as time went on. Her head was also pulsing with pain, her raised blood pressure from the last few hours creating a terrible migraine and she was thankful for the darkness of the room.
She tried to run water through the tap on the sink, but after several twists, nothing but black sludge spewed out and, disgusted, she turned off the sink with a huff. She had no choice but to allow the blood to dry on her hands, stretching her finger painfully to keep the skin from tightening. She wrapped the thin blanket around her shoulders when the chills began, and Charlie vaguely worried if she was succumbing to shock.
Trying to breathe soothingly through her nose and mouth, she was able to bring herself under some semblance of control. If she was to survive this, she had to think straight and calm. She'd given in to her emotions, and now that it was out of her system she needed to devise a plan of action. She didn't know if the Enterprise was operational, or if they even knew where to look for her. A lump formed in her throat as she thought of the explosions that erupted across the hull, but she pushed the feeling aside. She could not and would not give in to despair. She had to think positively. She was going to get off the Klingon ship and find a way back to Kate, Philippa, and especially to Jim.
She was surprised by the strength of her feeling for the man, something she hadn't evaluated while she was on his ship. She was too focused on her research, and the welfare of her friends to give the captain more than a cursory thought. She knew that he calmed her and helped her think clearly, but now that she had an abundance of time on her hands, she carefully reviewed her interactions with him over the last few weeks. The last hour they spent in the gym especially bringing welcomed warmth to her cheeks and a stutter to her heartbeat. He had almost kissed her, and she was more than willing to allow it.
She was not a novice when it came to men, but being the daughter of a high-ranking officer in the Air Force made the dating scene a bit cumbersome. Boys in high school were terrified of her family; their military reputation speaking for itself, and once she was at university for her undergrad, she was too focused on her studies to care much about dating. Sure, she had a few boyfriends, but none lasted longer than a year, and she was fine with that.
Her father did try to throw all sorts of officers in her direction, inviting them to dinner with her family anytime she was home for the weekend. It finally ended in a very heated argument between the two of them when she confronted him about it. He wasn't pleased to be undermined by his own child, and she was far past the point of caring. She did not return home for three months after that last argument.
When she moved to England, she wasn't against the chance at love, but it never presented itself to her. She knew she was attractive by societal standards, but she wanted someone who could keep up with her intellectually without patronizing her. She wanted someone who was adventurous like her, who understood that some emotions were not easy for her to convey, and who appreciated she was her own woman; not a puppet or potential Stepford wife.
When she thought of all of their conversations, and their interactions, Charlie was startled to realize that Jim was everything she wanted. He was easy to debate with, and never used his intellect against her when she plainly did not understand something. He was patient in his explanations, not treating her like a child but as an equal. He learned her passions were in medieval conflict archaeology, debating with her the evidence from the battle of Bosworth verse Agincourt in historical significance. He never berated her for refusing to be open with him emotionally, allowing her to direct the conversation away when she was uncomfortable. Probably the most significant trait of all was his obvious understanding of her protectiveness of Kate and Philippa. As captain, he was responsible for the welfare of over five hundred individuals, and while she only had two, he did not seem to see the difference. Responsibility was responsibility, and he tried to help her as much as he could.
Jim also had the remarkable ability of influencing Charlie to consider herself, even when she put up as many roadblocks to the idea as possible. She never liked thinking of herself when there were others who needed her. Obviously a family trait from her family, but Jim had a way of directing her to consider her own welfare; like slyly mentioning the always-empty gym on deck twelve. It was if he could read what she needed and provided it for her without smothering or criticizing her. It was nice to have someone consider what she wanted, even if Charlie refused to do it herself.
She was astonished that she never noticed all the little things he had done, and she began to wonder if she had achieved the same for him. Was she able to help him as he helped her? Was she the cause for his breath to catch and his heart to pound? She was no math whiz, nor could handle an annoying delegation of Andorians. She was just her, a woman who would sacrifice everything for the greater good and who always tried to do the right thing. As she sat in her cell, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, she hoped he knew how much he meant to her. Even though she knew the Jim Kirk from the Original Series was a lone bachelor with his crew as his family, something told her the Jim Kirk she met was different. She wasn't aware how, but some instinct had her believing it.
Lost in her thoughts, Charlie barely perceived the sound of heavy footsteps outside her door. With a start, the doors to her jail opened, the brighter lights from the corridor blinding her momentarily from both light and pain. She hissed as she brought her hand up to her eyes, blocking as much of the brightness as she could while a lone Klingon entered. He had nowhere the fierceness or girth of the Captain, but he was still an impressive figure. He disdainfully regarded her on her bed, a look of disgust crossing his features before he spoke,
"Dr. Sagan kindly requests your presence in his quarters for dinner."
Charlie scowled at the Klingon. While she was relieved that she was not forgotten, she was still not thrilled about the situation.
"You can tell Sagan he can go screw himself," she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. She noticed the Klingon clench his teeth, the muscles in in jaw flexing.
"He said you'd say as much," the Klingon growled. "He also said that if you refused his gracious invitation that you would eat in the mess with the crew." The Klingon grinned; obviously pleased by the wide-eyed stare Charlie began to sport. Well shit, she thought. With a huff, she stood, gesturing to the Klingon to lead the way while clenching her teeth in agitation.
The alien led her through the corridors and down a turbolift, the configuration of the Bird-of-Prey even more confusing than the Enterprise. After a few minutes, the pair stopped in front of a set of doors on the starboard side. The Klingon hit a button before the doors slid apart to admit them. Inside, the room was much brighter than anywhere else on the ship. There were scores along the walls marking where several rooms were converged to make one large great room, while two doors on one wall lead off to the unknown. Inside the great room a large, rectangle table sat under a set of small windows looking out into the black, laden down with many different Terran dishes. The moment she stepped in, Charlie smelled the delicious aroma of baked chicken, lamb, and pork, her mouth watering almost painfully by the assault. There was a bowl of mashed potatoes, another of orange sweet potatoes, with various vegetable dishes.
Along with the table, a group of couches and chairs sat in a depression off to the right, creating a surprisingly comfortable looking arrangement in a ship that cared little for comfort. The Klingon shoved Charlie roughly when she just stood in the entrance, taking in the sight of a room so completely different from her own little cell. Glaring over her shoulder, she walked a little further, looking around the seemingly empty room as she subconsciously picked at the dried blood on her hands.
Suddenly, one of the doors opened, revealing Dr. Sagan. He had changed from his dark robe into a pair of black slacks, a regular dark blue shirt with a lighter blue short robe tied over it.
"Ahh, so good you could make it, Miss Noland," he said noticing her presence.
"Wasn't given much of choice," she retorted bitterly.
"You could have attended the evening meal in the mess," he replied with an icy smile as he walked toward the woman. "You chose to come here instead." With a nod to the Klingon, the alien spun on his heel and exited, leaving the two humans alone. "Would you care to sit?" Sagan asked gesturing to the table. "I replicated some very good meals from back on Earth. Much better than that Klingon slop they serve."
"What game are you playing?" Charlie challenged, not moving a muscle. She was pleased to see a muscle twitch under Sagan's beard, an indication she was beginning to irritate him. Good.
"Merely inviting my guest for a simple meal. No harm in that."
"I have a feeling nothing about you is harmless," Charlie spat. "And I'm not your guest. I'm a prisoner."
Sagan shrugged. "View it as you will, but I am not going to let this delicious feast go to waste. Stand there all night if you want, makes no difference to me."
Sagan walked over and sat at the head of the table, pulling chicken, mashed potatoes and a vegetable on his plate. Charlie ground her teeth in frustration, the growling from her traitorous stomach telling everyone in the room just how hungry she was. She was in a power struggle though. Sagan's offer of a friendly meal was anything but, and until Charlie knew what he was getting at, she would stubbornly stand there until the universe ended. She would not accept hospitality from that man, no matter how hungry she was.
After an hour, Charlie began to shake, the excursions from earlier affecting her ability to stand while her head pounded uncontrollably. She pursed her lips together; willing herself to calm, but all she did was shake worse.
With a sigh, Sagan stood and walked over to Charlie, grabbing her arm and pulling her to the table where she fell onto a chair, unable to fight back.
"Sit, damn it. You're about to pass out," he snapped as he resumed his seat next to her. She righted herself, eyeing the food hungrily, but not letting herself reach for the closest dish. "You are the most stubborn woman I have come across," Sagan added. "Please, eat. It's not poisoned, I can assure you. I have no reason to kill you." Yet, hung condescendingly in the air unsaid.
Finally giving in to weakness, and arguing that she can't stand up against Sagan if she didn't keep up her strength, Charlie quickly loaded her plate and dove in as if she hadn't eaten in days. The meat was tender and juicy, the vegetables crisp. She was in heaven and began to relax as warmth spread out into limbs, but only slightly. After her plate was clean, and she sat back with a satisfying sigh, she glanced over at a smiling Sagan, predatorily grinning like a cat with a mouse as he sipped his wine.
"Satisfied?"
"I'd be more satisfied if I knew what was going on," Charlie said as she placed her napkin over the plate and crossed her arms. "Where are we going?"
"An outpost in the Boradis system at the edge of Federation space and Klingon territory," Sagan replied easily, immediately putting Charlie on guard. She needed to get as much information as she could, but she would have to be subtle about how to manipulate Sagan into telling her.
"How far on the edge?" she continued.
"Far enough."
"Alright, fine. What ship is this?"
"This is the Mor'Tah, a Klingon Bird-of-Prey and one of the fiercest ships in their fleet," Sagan beamed as if the ship were his own.
"I will agree it's pretty impressive," Charlie acknowledged with a small nod, hardly impressed by the rusted metal that surrounded her. "I didn't know the Klingon's gained the ability to transport when cloaked, especially with that weird water shield thing you did. I thought that was impossible in this day and age."
"Pity you aren't more inventive, Miss Noland. Have you not considered that with my ability to travel to your time that I could not visit others?"
"So you what, travelled forward for this hunk of metal?"
"Of course not. This ship is of this era, but the technology is not. I had to hardwire the new technology into her components," Sagan gloated. "While her hull is banal, the rest of her is a testament of engineering prowess."
"So how'd you do it?" Charlie pressed. "How did you bring me and my friends here, and apparently your little ship's 'prowess'? Everything I've researched so far said it was impossible."
"One of my greatest accomplishments," Sagan smirked with pride as he swallowed the rest of his wine.
"So how'd you do it?" Charlie urged.
Sagan considered the woman for a moment, determining whether the information he provided could be used against him. Seeing no way in which it could, he decided to feed her curiosity, but only just.
"Have you heard of Red Matter?" he asked.
Charlie's head cocked to side as she considered the question. "Yes," she responded cautiously. "It was the substance used to bring a Romulan from the future to this universe and it destroyed Vulcan by creating a black hole."
Sagan nodded, "That is correct. It was a mystery element created in the future and brought to this present with amazingly destructive capabilities."
"But it was destroyed," Charlie added. "The Enterprise used it to destroy Nero and Narada."
"Some of it was destroyed," Sagan said. Noticing the shocked look on Charlie's face he continued, "I was on the science vessel sent to the black hole in order to study its properties. As a temporal specialist, I wanted to see how that black hole differed from the others and whether it may be able to create a controllable tunnel through time. You see, I was the one who studied the same anomaly near the Kelvin incident twenty-five years previous. When we reached the location, my scans were able to pick up minuet traces of the element, and by developing a special device, I was successful in siphoning the material into a collection tank."
"That wasn't mentioned in the reports I read," Charlie said slowly.
"No one knew I found the traces."
"Well that's a bit greedy," Charlie admonished.
Sagan merely shrugged nonchalantly. "The fools at Starfleet wouldn't know what to with it if they had it. They would only lock it away as a dangerous weapon, and it was the first substance known to allow for time travel, even if it was accidental."
"So you took it for scientific study, then," Charlie said skeptically. "For the good of humanity, right?"
"Of course," Sagan responded.
"Why do I have a hard time believing that?"
"Because you only see the world in black and white, Miss Noland. There are whole worlds in grey you are missing out in."
Charlie smirked, clearly unimpressed. "You still haven't said how you got me here. If you used Red Matter, Earth would be a giant black hole right now."
"That's because I refined it," Sagan declared.
"You refined it?"
"Red Matter is very volatile and unstable. According to the reports I read, it wasn't even fully processed before it was needed in the super nova that will destroy Romulus. The amount I siphoned was enough to refine a sample to a more stable counterpart that can be manipulated."
"How did you refine it?" Charlie asked. She hated to admit it, but she was rather intrigued.
"That, my dear, is classified," Sagan smirked.
Charlie huffed, slightly frustrated. "Okay, fine, we'll come back to that. So this refined Red Matter. That's what brought me here."
"In essence, yes," Sagan agreed. "In its more stable form, the user has the control to decide when and where a mass can be transported though both space and time. It's rather revolutionary."
"Then why do you need me?" Charlie pushed. "You obviously have everything figured out, why go back in time to get me?"
"That information, my dear, will come when we reach our destination. Now, story time is over. I think it's time for bed." Sagan stood, pulling out a communique calling for her Klingon escort. Charlie stood as well, her anger back in check now that she had her energy resupplied.
"Whatever you think, whatever you have planned, you're going to lose," Charlie declared firmly.
"Oh you think so?" Sagan asked a deadly coldness to his tone.
"Yes, because I know this universe," Charlie proclaimed. "And it is black and white. Good always wins. Always."
As she finished, the Klingon from before walked in, waiting for Charlie near the door.
"We'll see, Miss Noland," Sagan called after her. "We will see."