10. Interrogations and Intrusions.

Meanwhile, on the Enterprise:

"How," Admiral Thompson was demanding, spraying spittle all over the screen, "did you lose the three most senior officers of the ship?"

"I did nae lose them, Admiral," Scott repeated for what felt like the tenth time that day. Already, he'd spoken to at least five admirals and their officials, all of whom had asked the same questions.

"It certainly looks that way to me!"

"Uh...Mister Scott?" Uhura asked tentatively from her station.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

"I have another admiral on the line, sir. He wants to speak with you."

"Tell him to call back," Thompson spat angrily. "I'm dealing with your Commander right now."

Scott fixed the man with a weary glare. "With all due respect, Admiral, it would be quicker to join transmissions."

"This is hardly a public matter!"

Scott sighed in barely veiled exasperation. "He's probably calling for the same reason, sir."

Thompson grumbled a bit more, but it was clear that he could not find another excuse. "Very well. You may put him on, Lieutenant."

The concerned face of Admiral Pike immediately filled the screen. "Mister Scott, what happened?"

"This blockhead," Thompson barked, interrupting Scott's explanation, "lost the three most senior officers aboard his ship!"

Pike faced his co-worker with practiced patience. "I know Jack. I just want to know how it happened."

"You're not going to get a very clear answer out of him," Thompson snorted, glaring at Scott. "He's completely incompetent. He hasn't even tried to explain himself."

"Ye have nae given me a chance sir," Scott said with as much tolerance as he could muster, trying to stamp down on the anger bubbling within him.

Thompson snorted but Pike calmly turned back to face the Bridge crew. "How exactly did it happen, Mister Scott?"

With a practice born of having to recount the same tale many times over, he relayed the situation step by step, including every single piece of information, no matter how insignificant it appeared to be. With each utterance, Pike's face darkened into the very picture of seriousness, even while Thompson's reddened unbelievably. When he had finally finished, there were a few beats of silence.

"Well..." Thompson finally muttered, "how convenient."

"I beg yer pardon, sir?" Scott asked, angrily.

"With those three out of the way, you have command. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Scott's brow furrowed in a mixture of anger and bewilderment. "No, sir. I have never wanted command."

Thompson snorted. "Really? Not even after all those years on Delta Vega?"

"No, sir," Scott snarled, thoroughly annoyed now. "Never."

"Jack," Pike said wearily, "we would get a lot more done if you didn't insist on accusing everybody every time an officer went missing!"

"These aren't just any officers!" Thompson spluttered, looking slightly deranged. "They're some of the best in the Fleet!"

"That doesn't mean that Mister Scott is responsible," Pike replied fairly. "It could have been anyone."

Thompson seemed to mull this over for a moment. "Are you suggesting that there is a spy in our midst, Pike?"

"That's one possible conclusion, yes."

"And if it were Mister Scott?"

"I did nae do anything!" Scott said angrily.

"It's not likely, Jack."

"Anything's possible," Thompson countered.

"Mister Scott would never pull a stunt like this."

"Exactly!" Thompson crowed.

"I do nae follow you, sir," Scott butted in.

"He's the least likely to do it, so he must be the culprit!"

"Don't be absurd, Jack." Pike snapped, apparently having come to the end of his temper. He glanced in Scott's direction. "It looks as though I'll have to call you back later, Mister Scott. Jack, I think I need to have a talk with you in my office..."

Scowling, Thompson cut off his end of the transmission and Pike sighed, turning to the Bridge. "Do your best to find them, Mister Scott. I'll handle Admiral Thompson."

"Aye sir," Scott replied grimly. The transmission cut and Scott sighed, leaning back in the chair which should not have been his.

"That was ridiculous," the Lieutenant at Spock's science station scoffed with his back to the console.

"I know, lad."

"Vat are you going to do, Mister Scott?" Chekov asked, staring at the new Captain with wide eyed innocence.

Scott sighed again and raked his hand through his hair. "Try scanning for any transporter residue," he finally instructed the man at the science station. "It's possible that they were taken by technology we have nae seen before."

"Aye sir."

"Meanwhile," he continued, facing Chekov once more, "I'm going tae interrogate the prisoners. Mister Sulu, you have the con. Call me if anything even remotely suspicious happens."

"Aye sir," the helmsman replied.

In one fluid motion, Scott stood, immensely relieved to be out of the comfortable chair. It felt wrong to sit in it, as though he was not supposed to be there which, technically speaking, he wasn't. That chair belonged to the only person ever to win a victory in it; Captain Kirk. He had earned its comfort and its privileges, not him. He was just the engineer, no matter how many times he had saved the ship from falling to pieces. His achievements would be worth nothing if it had not been for that man on the Bridge, keeping the crew together so that Mr Scott could do his job.

The Bridge had felt like a barren void without the three officers there, their commanding presence gone. Grim faces had surrounded him as he had sat there, giving orders which felt alien coming from his mouth. Different faces had peered back at him, instead of the ones from engineering. He did not belong up there, he belonged with the engines.

In short, they needed the Captain back.

Sighing in what was becoming a familiar motion; he slowed down the turbolift, listening with a trained ear to its slight whining as it ground to a halt. That would need fixing later. The doors slid open smoothly and he stepped into the bustling corridor, allowing the pulsing life of the Enterprise to sweep comfortingly past him for several moments as he just stood there, taking it all in.

They were a fantastic crew; always prepared and ready to do their jobs, always struggling on even when faced with certain defeat. Their morale might be low after the strange occurrences of a few hours ago, but they were keeping their work standards high. They knew that it was the only way to find the missing crewmen.

Closing his eyes in an attempt to gather together his last few strands of calm, he began to walk forwards, sending Ensigns and Lieutenants alike scattering from his determined path. His mouth had settled into an unfamiliarly grim and serious line as he stalked through the decks, occasionally telling an engineering crewman to stop using the wrong tool. He shook his head in despair. They were fantastic engineers, but they never learned how to take care of his lady with the passion that he did.

Bypassing the queues for the turbolifts and opting to go down the ladder instead, he could feel a throbbing starting up just behind his eyes, sending small spasms of pain rippling across his head with each heartbeat. He needed a drink. Yet he knew that getting one was not an option; he had a new responsibility to this crew and ship, one that he could not simply give up for his own personal comfort. Until the Captain was found, he was in charge and he was going to make the best job of it that he could, even if he didn't want to.

He'd just have to find another way of getting rid of that headache.

Reaching the end of the ladder at long last, he ducked skilfully past an open control panel and jumped to the floor. Frowning back at the way he had come, he straightened his uniform and searched the corridor for any sign of an engineer.

"Ensign!" He called, when he saw one lounging at the end of the corridor, "What do ye think ye're doing?"

The young man immediately snapped to attention, but he could not hide the mug that was in his hand. "I was...taking a small break, sir."

"Ye do nae leave a control panel lying open, laddie!"

The man gulped visibly, unused to the Engineer's wrath. "I...was going to go back to it soon, sir."

Scott shook his head. "Alright," he finally conceded.

The man blinked in surprise. "Sir?"

"I said alright, lad." He lifted a finger into the air and thrust it into the other man's face. "But if I catch ye doing that again..." he let the threat trail away ominously.

"Of course sir, I understand, sir." He scurried away, abandoning his coffee mug on a small ledge.

"And Ensign?"

The man warily turned back to face him, "Yes sir?"

"The same goes fer yer coffee mugs," he suddenly found himself grinning slightly. "Would nae want the prisoners to escape and trip over it now, would we?"

The Ensign grinned in slight relief. "No sir."

Shaking his head slightly, Scott carried on down the corridor, the brief signs of a good mood abruptly disappearing as he reached the security desk. The young woman behind it immediately stood to attention with a quick 'sir!' Scott waved her impatiently into an at ease posture. He had never been comfortable with military procedure, least of all when it was directed at him.

"Any trouble so far, Ensign?"

"No sir," she replied wearily, "except for the usual screamed threats."

Scott smiled back at her wryly. After many of these missions, he could sympathise. "No escape attempts?"

"No sir. We've got them locked in there tightly."

He nodded his approval. "Good tae hear." He jerked his head at the force field which blocked off the rest of the corridor. "Could ye de-activate that?"

"Yes sir," she said, quickly rushing to comply, her fingers flying over her keyboard. The field shimmered for a moment and then disappeared with a small sound. "There you go sir."

"Thank ye." He gave her a brief nod and then continued down the corridor. "Put it back up."

She frowned at him. "But, sir...if you get attacked-"

"That is an order, Ensign. Put the shield back up. These people are dangerous."

She grudgingly complied. "Shall I have a security detail come up, sir?"

Scott mulled it over silently for a moment. On the one hand, he did not want to drag them away from whatever repair or investigation work they were doing, since it was imperative that they get back on track. Yet on the other hand, he could not deny that if he got attacked by the prisoners, although he considered that unlikely, it couldn't hurt to have a few security guards standing by to stop the prisoners if they got past him.

"Alright," he finally replied. "Have five of Giotto's choice come up, armed with phasers on stun."

She looked immensely relieved. "Aye sir."

Turning his back on her as she fulfilled those commands, he walked down to the end of the corridor to the only cell with an active force field shimmering before it. All three of the prisoners had been placed in the same room, although he was beginning to wonder if that was a good idea as they heard him coming and the yelled threats and insults picked up once again.

"FILTHY MUGGLES!" The woman was screeching, throwing herself at the force field with deranged abandon. "HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO PURE BLOODS!"

Scott rolled his eyes at her as he came to a stop in front of their room. "Oh, shut it," he snapped.

She recoiled. "You DARE to order me?" She drew herself up to her full height, glaring imperiously at him. "I am one of the most trusted servants of the Dark Lord! You have no right to-"

"I have every right!" Scott countered, speaking over the top of her outrage. "Ye are nae welcome aboard this ship, and unless ye tell me why ye're here, ye'll have a very long stay in a prison cell."

The pale man's lip curled as he rose from his place at the back of the cell. "We will be freed. My Death Eaters are loyal."

"Oh really?" Scott answered, bouncing on his toes slightly. "How do ye think they'll reach ye in space?"

"Their magic has no limits," the man with black hair snapped.

"Magic does nae exist," Scott said slowly, emphasising his point with a jabbing finger back in the direction of the Bridge. "Yer sticks did nothing!"

"They are not 'sticks'," a blond haired man snarled.

"Do not allow him to provoke you, Lucius," the Lord commanded. "We will defeat him soon enough." His red eyes glowed with insanity. "When we do...I promise you revenge."

The man named Lucius smiled and bowed his head. "Of course, my Lord. I would be very grateful."

The Lord levelled his piercing gaze at Scott. "Why are you keeping us here? Surely you know we will escape."

"This cell is escape proof. There will be no chance of that."

The woman laughed shrilly. "He mocks us, my Lord!"

"I will take great pleasure in killing him, Bellatrix," the Lord agreed, "but I will reward your loyalty by giving you five minutes alone with him."

Bellatrix grinned. "I will relish it," she hissed, glaring at Scott.

Scott forced himself not to be intimidated. These people were lunatics; magic did not exist, they had seen that themselves when they had attempted to attack everyone on the Bridge. They could never escape, they would never hurt anyone unless they stole weapons. They were helpless.

Unfortunately, that prompted a few violent images to flicker through his mind. He ruthlessly pushed them away. Reflecting on what could happen would not help him. He needed to keep a clear head.

"Why are ye on my ship?" He finally demanded.

"I think," the Lord sneered in a high voice, "the real question is: why did you bring us here?"

Scott snorted. "Do nae be ridiculous, man! Why would I bring ye here, lock you up, and ask ye why ye were here?"

"Everyone knows Muggles are strange," Bellatrix said, gliding over to the door frame and leaning against it, licking her bottom lip. "You are obviously no different."

He resisted the urge to shiver and kept eye contact with their leader. "Where are ye from?"

The Lord laughed; a high pitched, wailing sound. His red rimmed eyes narrowed as he threw back his head, his chest heaving in amusement.

"You really don't know anything, do you?" The young, black haired man asked in disgust.

"I didn't expect you to understand the ways of my world," the Lord finally said, a smirk lingering around his mouth, "but you have surpassed my expectations."

"Just answer the bloody question," Scott snapped.

He only cocked his head to the side. "Why can't we perform magic on your pitiful vessel?" He asked in a silken voice. "Have you placed charms around it?"

"Of course I haven't!" Scott said in annoyance. "How many times do I have to tell ye; magic does nae exist!"

"You would do well," the Lord hissed, moving his face as close to the force field as it would go, so that they were almost eye to eye, "to stop trying my patience."

"I'm doing my job," Scott snapped back. "Now answer my question."

The Dark Lord leaned his head back, away from the force field, so that he was looking at the ceiling. Scott resisted the urge to follow his gaze, instead keeping his eyes fixed on the prisoners' every movement.

"I am from Earth," he finally said.

Scott blinked. "Would ye be more specific?" Inwardly, he was surprised that they came from his home planet.

The man before him spread his pale hands. "I don't think I want to." His followers laughed.

"I can make this a lot harder for ye than it has tae be," Scott threatened.

Bellatrix sneered at him. "You wouldn't dare to hurt my Lord."

"If he does nae comply and answer my questions, I might have tae." He paused significantly to allow this point to sink in. "Where do ye come from on Earth?"

"I discuss my past with no one," the Lord said dismissively. "Those who do hear it...never live to tell the tale."

Scott rolled his eyes. "I'll ask ye that one later, if ye're going tae be stubborn," he finally said. "I do nae have all the time in the world."

Bellatrix laughed, the sound unhinged. "With magic, you would be the master of time. Let us go, and we can give it to you."

"Yeh've changed yer tune," Scott observed. "A minute ago ye were going tae kill me."

She laughed once more. "This Muggle learns faster than the others, my Lord." Her eyes were mocking him. "Though he is still undeniably stupid."

Scott was struggling not to allow them to provoke him. "Ye claim ye can perform magic on Earth?" He finally said in a conversational tone.

The Lord's eyes narrowed but it was the youngest, dark haired Death Eater that spoke. "We can do anything," he boasted.

His master rounded on him. "Quiet!" He snapped.

"My Lord?"

"He's probing you for information, don't you understand that?" Bellatrix added, "Or are you so young that your brains haven't finished growing?"

The man bristled. "I know what I'm doing!"

"Really?" Bellatrix sneered. "Then prove it."

"Will ye be quiet?" Scott all but roared suddenly, the throbbing in his temples becoming louder. Silence fell. "I'll be back tae question ye later," he warned. "Do nae think I've finished with ye."

With that, he spun on his heel, leaving a momentary stunned silence behind him as everyone tried to fathom why he had suddenly given up his questioning. Although, of course, it did not last for long.

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING, MUGGLE?" Bellatrix screeched joyously, "ARE YOU TOO INTIMIDATED?" She cackled derisively and Scott shut her out of his head angrily. He would not let her goad him.

The young woman at the desk hurriedly flipped switches and pressed buttons, getting the force field down once more a few seconds before he would have ploughed into it. He breezed past it without thought and it snapped up again, the woman giving him a worried stare.

"Is something wrong, sir?"

He didn't answer her question. "Let me know if they show any signs of co-operating," he instructed instead.

"Aye sir."

He barely heard her, already stalking down the corridor. He stormed up to the young engineer, who unsurprisingly was standing to the side of an open control panel, staring at it in annoyance.

"Is something wrong, laddie?"

The young man visibly jumped, almost dropping his tools. "Sir! I didn't know you were there..." he stammered, trailing off at the foreboding expression on the Chief Engineer's face. "Uh...no sir, nothing's wrong."

"Then why are ye staring at it? It will nae fix itself!"

"Uh...aye sir. I'll get back to it right away, sir, when I receive the tools."

"Ye should have a toolbox, lad," Scott snapped and immediately regretted it when the man stiffened, intimidated. He tried to soften his features slightly. "It makes the job a damn sight easier."

"Aye sir," the man muttered morosely, standing aside to let him past.

Scott attempted to smile at him. "Keep up the work, lad." Shaking his head at his own uncommon belligerence, he climbed into the shaft and began ascending the ladder, taking the opportunity to think.

Those prisoners were in a category of their own, he decided. They maintained despite everything that magic existed, in the face of all evidence. He supposed that perhaps he should be unnerved by that; maybe it was a warning sign of some unknown organisation, or perhaps a psychological condition. Whatever it was, he didn't know about it, and that annoyed him.

Worse still, Admiral Thompson had apparently gotten the idea that he was responsible for bringing these monsters onboard. He grabbed a rung of the ladder with particular viciousness. If he was responsible, he reasoned angrily to himself, then why would he be interrogating them? Why would he be drawing attention to the disappearance so soon after it happened? If he really was a spy trying to weaken the Federation, then he would immediately try to take over the ship, with the help of whatever allies he had.

He wasn't a spy, of course. He only had to convince Thompson of that.

He sighed. Sometimes he wondered how bureaucrats like him had managed to climb up the ranks, despite being so obviously incompetent and inexperienced. It was little wonder that Star Fleet was still trying to get itself organised after the attack on Vulcan. If they had more capable officers at the top...

Abruptly, he forced himself to stop that line of thought. Rebuilding was all that mattered, and any organisation would find it next to impossible.

Frowning, he raised a hand to his temples, stopping midway up the ladder as a sudden pulsing sensation shot through his head, heavier and more painful than any of the ones before. His vision blurred and for a moment he thought that he was going to lose consciousness, but as soon as it had come, it stopped, and he was left reeling in the aftermath.

Panting, he was sure that he could hear something whispering.

"You'll never escape me..." Something suddenly hissed next to his ear. Shocked, he jerked around only to almost crash his face into a bulkhead. Something laughed. "So afraid...so weak."

"Who's there?" He asked, with as much of a level voice as he could muster when confronted with disembodied words.

Only a wordless laughter accompanied his question, bouncing off the bulkheads. The lights flickered and went out. The laughter escalated.

Heart leaping into his throat, he sprint-climbed up the remainder of the shaft, tripping over the edge when he reached the top and landing flat on his stomach on the deck. He lay there for a few moments, simply trying to catch his breath and work out what had just happened.

"Sir?" He started his eyes open. A pair of black standard issue boots were standing before him. "Are you alright, sir?"

He levered himself off the ground with some difficulty. His head felt like it was going to split open. "'M fine, lad." He staggered to his feet and did not notice the hand that steadied him in concern. "What happened down there?"

"We had some trouble with the lights," the Ensign replied. "We had to turn them off briefly to re-route the power..." he trailed off as he took in Scott's pale features. "If I'd have known anyone was in there..."

"Do nae worry yerself, lad," he said. His voice was falsely light. "Do ye know where that voice was coming from?"

The man's brow furrowed in even deeper concern. "Voice, sir?"

"I heard..." he trailed off at the positively alarmed and slightly wary look he was receiving from the Ensign. "Never mind. It must have been someone at the bottom of the shaft."

He received a nod in reply. "Probably, sir. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"It does nae matter, lad. Just try tae get it fixed." As he turned his back on the still darkened tunnel, he tried not to shiver.

That voice had been unmistakable; he recognised it. The face flickered briefly in front of his eyes as his mind automatically called up the memory.

It was impossible.