It took less than two hours for the landing party to report back, and for me to wish that modern ideas of alcohol more closely resembled the ones of my own century. Almost immediately after the report Kirk ordered additional landing parties deployed, this time with security details. The original landing party had indeed discovered vast amounts of dead bodies, but this time it appeared that the deaths had been caused by war and not famine.

"Do you want me to come down there with you?" I clasped my hands in front of my body, barely keeping them from shaking.

Kirk double-checked the med-kit he was holding. I already told him it was fully stocked but I knew he was just doing it to remain occupied. As I watched him fiddle with the supplies, I went over the plans. Spock would remain onboard as acting captain while Kirk and another landing party would beam down to Tarsus IV to find Mac and the Vulcan refugees. Kirk had only come by for the med-kit, something I had reminded him to take.

"Do you want to come down there with me?" He finally looked up from his busy work.

I shifted, "Honestly, no. The reports I read were horrific so I am afraid of what I'll see..." I sighed. "I mean not to sound like a coward or anything but I still have a difficult time keeping my own memories of torture at bay. Going down there and seeing all that death…" I shook my head and sighed. "I know I'm a coward for that but that's what's going through my head."

"Not wanting to go down there doesn't make you a coward." Kirk frowned as he patted his belt to make sure all his needed items were there. "You're just trying to survive, mentally and physically."

"I certainly feel like one. Maybe if I was stronger, smarter, braver-"

Kirk nodded and quickly interrupted me not at all wanting to listen to my complaints, "I understand Brenna, now stop berating yourself." He rolled his shoulders. "In any case I'd prefer you to stay onboard with Spock. You are not trained in hand-to-hand combat, a fact I find most peculiar, and so if there was a problem you'd be more of a hindrance."

"Nice to know where I stand in your eyes." I reached out and smoothed his uniform across his shoulders, mimicking his efforts to remain occupied.

He watched my movements then sighed, "Brenna don't worry okay? I won't come back without them." He reached up and took hold of my hands, giving them a slight squeeze. "I promise."

"I know you won't." I gave him a wobbly smile before pulling my hands back. "Now go save the day, oh fearless leader, like you always do."

He paused in his movements for the door, "Do I get a good luck kiss?"

"Even now you're hankering for some action?" I exclaimed. Despite my eye rolling and incredulous tone, I still grabbed his shoulders and placed a quick peck on his lips.

I tried to pull back but one of his arms snuck around my waist and anchored me against his chest. "I bet Mac got a better one." He looked like a crest-fallen child.

"Spock Prime got better too." I gave him a saucy grin.

He frowned before bending down and sealing his lips against mine. He didn't try to pry my lips open in order to deepen the kiss, but this one was definitely more intense than the one I'd given him. When he stepped away he smiled and gave me a curt nod before disappearing back into the corridor. We both knew that in the worst-case scenario, this would be the last we would see of each other, and neither of us were the type to enjoy long goodbyes, so this parting was perfect for us—though I'd rather less lip action with this Kirk. Sure I found him attractive but there was entirely too much water under the bridge in my mind regarding any Kirk for me to be comfortable with lip-locking anymore.

However, the following wait was far from perfect. In the time span that it took for the first reports to come in Chekov woke up—so that was a relief for all of us including Uhura who almost immediately escorted him back to his quarters for a more comfortable rest—but the reports we continued to receive for hours after that were far from relieving. There were heavy casualties among the local residents, along with heavy wounded of our own crew. I had tried to pace a hole on the bridge but Spock had thrown me out and ordered me either back to sickbay or to my room. Knowing that once the crew beamed aboard again I'd be needed in sickbay I opted for some shut eye. It was close to nine hours later that Spock finally contacted me. I had only just fallen asleep; so needless to say, when I opened the door I was neither looking nor feeling my best.

"Lieutenant Jones." I continued to wipe the sleep from my eyes as Spock spoke. "Captain Kirk has requested your presence down on the planet. It appears that he has heeded a suggestion put forth by the Ambassador that you are an expert on some of the more puzzling technology down there."

My mouth dropped open for a moment before I found myself talking again, "Spock Prime suggested I help down there?"

"Indeed. He and a number of the other Vulcan survivors have been found and beamed aboard. He has entered into a healing trance as his wounds are relatively severe. I will be awaiting your explanation of his suggestion upon your return. The security detail escorting you to base camp is waiting in the transporter room." He eyed my sleep-rumpled uniform, "The Captain instructed me to tell you that you would perhaps be more useful if you were in attire that resembled that of the locals. Lieutenant Chapel will assist you."

He spun on his heels and left me gaping in his wake. It was only when Christine cleared her throat that I realized she'd been standing just off to the side the whole time. I quickly shook the remaining grogginess from my head and hurried after her. She tried to pick out an outfit for me but I surprised her with my "expertise" in 21st century clothing and found my own way around. I was clad in warm hiking pants, boots, tunic, and sweater jacket before I made my way to the transporter room. It was apparently relatively cold down there so I wanted to be as prepared as possible.

Christine gave me a quick hug before I stepped onto the transporter pad. Scotty was the one doing the beaming and he gave me thumbs up before that freakishly weird sensation of being broken apart at the molecular level overtook me. I hate, hate, hate being transported. I'll never get used to it, ever.

Upon arrival I was immediately greeted with what looked like a regular downtown 21st century city, only bombed to hell. I could hear distant gun fire and as we walked down the rubble ridden streets, on occasion, the vibration of not so distant explosions rattled remaining window panes. An ever present stench of smoke and death hung on the stagnant air. Though I could see my breath it was so cold, there was no refreshing sting from the cold air that I breathed in.

The building we entered was surrounded by armed forces, their uniforms startling similar to that of 21st century US Army soldiers. Inside there was organized chaos of command computers and hubs spread around on what used to be restaurant tables. Men and women rushed here and there, barking orders at each other. I was lead through this into another, smaller, room where there were only a half dozen people, obviously the commanding officers of this area, standing together with Kirk and a number of his security detail.

When Kirk noticed my presence he stepped away from the group and motioned me to join him further away from the groups. It was a relief to see him, though I had yet to see anyone else I knew, including Mac. Kirk rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before he spoke.

"You were correct on some points, Brenna, but on others you were not, regarding the situation here. Instead of famine, it's a war between the colonists and Governor Kodos and his regime. Kodos managed to kill a few of our personnel before they escaped." He sighed. "There were Vulcans among the dead, as if those people hadn't lost enough as it is. In any case, the resistance has been hiding our crew and the refugees ever since. However, the ones outside the city have had to relocate multiple times and because of that, some have gone missing. Most were either wounded or too injured to be moved." He reached out and touched my shoulder. "We think Bones and his staff remained with a large group of wounded despite the order for relocation."

I felt my stomach lurch at all the information, not sure what fact made me more afraid and sick. "What is it you need me to do? Spock said that the Ambassador suggested I come down here."

"None of us understand what the hell these guys are saying half the time." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "They keep using terms and phrases that are archaic by our standards. To make matters a bit more complicated, most of the weapons they are using are simple enough in design and application, however we don't have the time to constantly be asking questions on how to operate them or fix them if they jam up."

"Why don't you just keep using your phasers?"

"There's a jamming field of some sort that Kodos has implemented that renders almost all Federation technology unusable."

"Damn." I chewed on my lip. "So, again, what do you need me to do?"

"Listen and explain. Spock Prime said that you were an expert on the 21st century, and given your history with him I'm inclined to trust him and act on his suggestion. These people are planning on launching an offensive within a few hours but I think they said they had some intel on Bones' location. I just need you to listen up and let me know what you hear. I've got the others scouting out for information as well. The resistance isn't going to help us rescue anyone until they have Kodos but they aren't opposed to us attempting a rescue mission of our own."

"So spy? You want me to spy?"

"You aren't spying when you aren't in enemy territory Brenna. Just listen and explain."

I nodded, confused but willing enough to be useful. Memories of my old Enterprise friends flashed through my mind, jumbled together with images of these new ones. This was not the time to freak out. I had a job to do. Isn't that what I always wanted, a purpose? Now I had one and I'd better buckle down and do it otherwise there'd be hell to pay.

I wandered around the command center, hovering as near to computers and conversations as I could. My brother had made it a point to teach me the generals of gun safety and usage, though I'd never actually shot one—at least not on purpose but that is a long and completely unrelated story. I had watched enough movies and kept up enough with modern wars to be aware of weapon technology in the basic sense so as people were throwing around words such as drones, RPGs, anti-aircraft, mortars, and other such things I could understand. There were some others that I'd no clue but I kept that to myself.

It took almost three hours of hovering before I came upon information that useful. Once I gleaned all I could I hurried back to Kirk.

"They just got reports that Mac and the others are being held in some caves about thirty clicks north of here. The offensive is about to take place to the northwest and west. I asked and was given a GPS so we have a map, now we just need some weapons and we can go get them."

Kirk didn't wait around. Immediately, he requested enough guns and ammunition as they could spare. Within 45 minutes of telling him we were on the move. We all had Kevlar strapped to our chests, helmets on our heads, and rifles in our hands. I'd taken the time to "ask" for the large knife sitting on one of the tables—I actually just pilfered it but I'd return it if possible. The body armor and rifle made me feel sluggish in movement, I had no idea how I was supposed to sneak up on anyone that wasn't deaf, but at least I had some sort of protection. There were 23 of us total and I could only hope that there would be 23 plus all the survivors by the end of the day.