NOTES: I apologize for not writing in this sooner, I can't seem to find the time anymore. I promise *crosses fingers* to write in this more often. I do believe that it is almost done. ;)
"Spock! Look at this!"
Doctor Leonard McCoy gave the Vulcan's arm an impatient pull towards the patient he was examining and pointed at the harsh burn that charred the Solotan's stomach. Spots of discolor were splattered all around the main wound like a violent starburst. McCoy's old hands gently traced the places and his blue eyes flew intensely to Spock.
"Just look..."
"Third degree burns, Doctor, that appear-"
"That's not what I mean, Spock! Look at the inconsistancy of the burn...see how it's seems to be all over the place? Well, no phaser I've ever seen makes a wound like that. A phaser shot is always clean, straight like an arrow. "
McCoy mimiced the shot of a phaser by poking the Vulcan's shoulder with one pointed finger.
Spock frowned and stared pensively at the doctor.
"That would led us to the conclusion that the burns did not come phasers at all, that the Solotans were fired at by some other form of energy weapon."
"I've only seen a burn like this once or twice..."
The statement exited McCoy's mouth with an undertone of exhaustion, and his eyes drooped sadly at the memory.
"It only comes from-"
"INCOMING DISRUPTOR FIRE!"
The naviagtor cried, and the Helmsman turned expectantly towards the acting captain.
"Evasive action, Mister Sul....uh, Mister!"
The helmsman nodded and his hands flew across the controls like two white birds, pecking at the console with long fingers.
"It's Mister Giasco, sir..." He informed Scott a moment later, when the ship had safely spun out of the line of fire.
"Fine name, laddie, I'll take to remembering it."
Scott turned the command chair, with more ease now then there had been before.
"You there, Tactical...are the phaser banks charged and ready?"
"Charging, sir."
"Good," Scott replied, whirling in his seat and pinning his sable gaze on the helmsman once more.
"Prepare to fire at the Klingons, Mister Giasco, on my order."
Uhura's high-pitched scream tore through the underchambers of the Solotan cavern, ripping like taut silk, reviberating off the low hanging stalagtites and echoing around the glassy floor and walls. The furious pounding of Kirk's boot against the cage bars provided a violent beat to Uhura's cry. The Solotan guard approached slowly, as if unsure if he should bother with the discomfort of prisioners at all. White, frayed hair swung gently as he marched up few feet away from the gate.
He sneered and barked something, that the translator at Uhura's hip picked up and repeated in Standard.
"What do you want, Federation-liars?"
"Please...he is very, very ill!,"
Uhura cried, placing just the right amount of panic in her tone. She gestured to Ensign Laking, who layed jerking against the icy ground. A pathetic moan eerily escaped his throat.
"He needs a doctor! He may die!"
The warrior shrugged as if it were no consuming concern of his.
Kirk pressed his face between the bars, cold metal touching both of his cheeks as he snarled,
"You cannot let him die. Your Jasha ordered that we are punished EQUALLY. If you let him die, you are betraying the Jasha's orders."
The Solotan's white marble eyes, bulged futher from his round face as he contemplated the prisioner's words.
It was true...and should he disobey the Jasha, he certainly knew there would be consequences. Unpleasant ones.
Without thinking, the Solotan guard reached shakily for the keys jangling from his animal hide belt and shoved them into the lock. Muttering about the fragile condition of Outsiders, he entered, making the mistake of turning his back on the Captain when he reached for the twitching Ensign.
All it took was a single chop, the side of Kirk's hand drove into the solider's neck, and soon the guard was sprawled on the floor.
"Bravo, Mister Laking!," James Kirk praised, helping the young Ensign to a stand.
Claude beamed brightly, and blushed at the same time.
"I was a member of the drama club at the Academy, sir..."
"Well, that was certainly a convincing preformance, Ensign. Come on, we have to get to their 'hospital' chambers before they send more guards to check on us."
The captain's gaze took in the rest of his landing party and he frowned thoughtfully, seeing a wobbly Mister Chekov try to stand, using Sulu's arm as a crutch.
Chekov, despite his wheezing, caught the Captain's worried hazel glance and his face cracked into a bright grin.
"I know how to get to those chambers, Keptin. While they take me beck here, I only pretended to be sleeping..."
The reassuring strength in Chekov's conviction prompted a warm smile from Kirk.
"Then, by all means, mister...
lead the way."
"Spock! Look at this!"
Doctor Leonard McCoy gave the Vulcan's arm an impatient pull towards the patient he was examining and pointed at the harsh burn that charred the Solotan's stomach. Spots of discolor were splattered all around the main wound like a violent starburst. McCoy's old hands gently traced the places and his blue eyes flew intensely to Spock.
"Just look..."
"Third degree burns, Doctor, that appear-"
"That's not what I mean, Spock! Look at the inconsistancy of the burn...see how it's seems to be all over the place? Well, no phaser I've ever seen makes a wound like that. A phaser shot is always clean, straight like an arrow. "
McCoy mimiced the shot of a phaser by poking the Vulcan's shoulder with one pointed finger.
Spock frowned and stared pensively at the doctor.
"That would led us to the conclusion that the burns did not come phasers at all, that the Solotans were fired at by some other form of energy weapon."
"I've only seen a burn like this once or twice..."
The statement exited McCoy's mouth with an undertone of exhaustion, and his eyes drooped sadly at the memory.
"It only comes from-"
"INCOMING DISRUPTOR FIRE!"
The naviagtor cried, and the Helmsman turned expectantly towards the acting captain.
"Evasive action, Mister Sul....uh, Mister!"
The helmsman nodded and his hands flew across the controls like two white birds, pecking at the console with long fingers.
"It's Mister Giasco, sir..." He informed Scott a moment later, when the ship had safely spun out of the line of fire.
"Fine name, laddie, I'll take to remembering it."
Scott turned the command chair, with more ease now then there had been before.
"You there, Tactical...are the phaser banks charged and ready?"
"Charging, sir."
"Good," Scott replied, whirling in his seat and pinning his sable gaze on the helmsman once more.
"Prepare to fire at the Klingons, Mister Giasco, on my order."
Uhura's high-pitched scream tore through the underchambers of the Solotan cavern, ripping like taut silk, reviberating off the low hanging stalagtites and echoing around the glassy floor and walls. The furious pounding of Kirk's boot against the cage bars provided a violent beat to Uhura's cry. The Solotan guard approached slowly, as if unsure if he should bother with the discomfort of prisioners at all. White, frayed hair swung gently as he marched up few feet away from the gate.
He sneered and barked something, that the translator at Uhura's hip picked up and repeated in Standard.
"What do you want, Federation-liars?"
"Please...he is very, very ill!,"
Uhura cried, placing just the right amount of panic in her tone. She gestured to Ensign Laking, who layed jerking against the icy ground. A pathetic moan eerily escaped his throat.
"He needs a doctor! He may die!"
The warrior shrugged as if it were no consuming concern of his.
Kirk pressed his face between the bars, cold metal touching both of his cheeks as he snarled,
"You cannot let him die. Your Jasha ordered that we are punished EQUALLY. If you let him die, you are betraying the Jasha's orders."
The Solotan's white marble eyes, bulged futher from his round face as he contemplated the prisioner's words.
It was true...and should he disobey the Jasha, he certainly knew there would be consequences. Unpleasant ones.
Without thinking, the Solotan guard reached shakily for the keys jangling from his animal hide belt and shoved them into the lock. Muttering about the fragile condition of Outsiders, he entered, making the mistake of turning his back on the Captain when he reached for the twitching Ensign.
All it took was a single chop, the side of Kirk's hand drove into the solider's neck, and soon the guard was sprawled on the floor.
"Bravo, Mister Laking!," James Kirk praised, helping the young Ensign to a stand.
Claude beamed brightly, and blushed at the same time.
"I was a member of the drama club at the Academy, sir..."
"Well, that was certainly a convincing preformance, Ensign. Come on, we have to get to their 'hospital' chambers before they send more guards to check on us."
The captain's gaze took in the rest of his landing party and he frowned thoughtfully, seeing a wobbly Mister Chekov try to stand, using Sulu's arm as a crutch.
Chekov, despite his wheezing, caught the Captain's worried hazel glance and his face cracked into a bright grin.
"I know how to get to those chambers, Keptin. While they take me beck here, I only pretended to be sleeping..."
The reassuring strength in Chekov's conviction prompted a warm smile from Kirk.
"Then, by all means, mister...
lead the way."