Saavik joined Spock in the forward section of the ship. "How far have we traveled?" she asked.

He met her gaze. "Not far enough." They were currently stranded in the Neutral Zone.

As she slid into the co-pilot's seat, she pulled up diagnostics of the ship's systems. A few components had overheated, indicating an issue with the coolant system, but the main problem was that driver coil had failed. "I assume that there is not a spare on board?" she asked.

"No, there is not."

Saavik checked the readings again. "I may be able to repair it, but it will take time."


An hour later, they were both seated on the floor in the aft compartment, sorting through the damaged parts and attempting to see what could be salvaged. Saavik's track at the Academy was navigation, but Spock had quickly realized that her engineering skills would make Scotty proud. She had no experience with the technology they had on hand, but was learning quickly. She had a talent for diagnostics and had developed creative strategies for solving problems without having the correct tools.

"How often have you been questioned about switching tracks at the Academy?" Spock asked her at one point.

"Several times," Saavik replied, knowing where his question was coming from. "I have considered changing specialties, but decided against it…Do you believe it is illogical to expend my efforts in a field that is enjoyable but requires work instead of a field that comes naturally?"

Spock shook his head. "You are very skilled at both navigation and engineering. Perhaps, over the course of your career, you will have opportunities to be involved in both."

Saavik shrugged. "Perhaps." She looked down at the pieces in her hands. "I could always fix things," she realized, as new memories continued to trickle into her consciousness. "That was why the Centurion noticed me; I was able to repair a generator. He told me I wasn't quite as stupid as the others. But being important in that complex was dangerous."

"Not anymore," he quietly assured her.

Saavik considered that for a moment before nodding. "No, not anymore…It is strange to openly discuss the things that happened when I was a child. I was always afraid of knowing…Fear is an interesting emotion."

"Yes, it is."

She shrugged slightly, dismissing the thought until a later time, and turned back to her work. "Can you please give me that spanner wrench?"

Spock turned to reach for the tool, but his vision suddenly went gray around the edges. He paused, trying to steady himself and will his body to cooperate. They had far too much to get done for his injuries to interfere.

Saavik looked up when she realized that he had neither responded nor handed her the tool that she had asked for. "Spock?" she asked. "What is wrong?"

He opened his eyes and looked over at her. "Do not be concerned. What tool did you require?"

The wrench forgotten, Saavik got up and retrieved the medical kit. Her expression became even more concerned as she waved the scanner before him. "You are still bleeding internally…and you have a fever. Why did you not tell me that you were feeling worse?"

"I did not wish to worry you."

Saavik quickly prepared two more hyposprays. "Antibiotics," she informed him as she gave him the first. "And another clotting agent…I cannot give you a third dose for several hours without risking a cerebral aneurism."

Spock nodded. "I understand."

"You should meditate," she recommended. "I can complete the repairs on my own."

"No, I will not leave you alone."

"The medications are not working," Saavik pointed out. "I will be equally alone if you succumb to internal bleeding. At least if you enter a healing trance, you will have a chance of waking up."

"If you encounter trouble by yourself – "

"Regardless of whether I am alone or not, this vessel will not survive another attack and currently cannot reach Federation space. I am grateful that you wish to protect me, but it is illogical."

Spock handed her the wrench that she had asked for earlier. "I can continue to assist you for a while longer," he asserted.

Saavik sighed. He had risked his life – and it was entirely possible that he might still lose it – in order to save her, so why wouldn't he now try to help himself? This was not the time for his human side to take control; her logic was sound.

She got up to put the medical kit back, and as she returned, she realized that Spock was completely focused on the electrical component in his hands; he wouldn't realize what she was doing until it was too late. Her thumb and index finger came together over a pressure point at the base of his neck, squeezing tightly. His body instantly went limp.

"I am sorry," she told her friend as she wrapped his arm over her shoulders and pulled him to his feet. She had executed the nerve pinch so that control over his limbs would be gone, but his mind would remain active in order for him to enter a healing trance. "If you will not take care of yourself, then I am required to do it for you."

She managed to get him over to the bench where she had slept earlier and laid him down on it. "Go to sleep, Spock. Do what you must to take care of yourself. I will be fine." Saavik draped a blanket over him and knelt at his side. "Sleep, t'hy'la," she whispered. Spock's breathing had slowed and become shallow, and his pulse was barely noticeable. It wasn't instantly obvious that he was still alive.

After watching him for a long moment, Saavik turned her attention back to her work. It wasn't going to finish itself. She nearly had the driver coil reassembled and was about to turn her attention to the coolant system when the computer began beeping. Once she'd headed back to the front of the ship and slipped into the pilot's seat, the data from the sensors made her pulse quicken.

The ship hadn't completely stopped moving when the engine died; they'd been slowly drifting along for the past couple of hours. Their current heading had the ship aimed directly at the wall of the ion-storm corridor that their course had been set along. If she couldn't get the engines functioning again within the next hour, the ship would be destroyed.


Saavik got the drive coil reinstalled and did what she could with the coolant system, but really didn't have the required parts for making significant improvements. In any case, time was running out.

She slid back into the pilot's seat, transferred power to the propulsion systems once more, and coaxed half-impulse speed out of the damaged engines. The auto-navigation system had been fried during the overload, so she'd have to do everything manually for the rest of the journey.

"Pressure looks good," she murmured to herself as she checked the readings. "Temperatures are holding within nominal ranges…"

They were almost up to full available speed when the entire ship shuddered and the main lights went out. A console beside the co-pilot's station exploded, and Saavik flinched away from the sparks. Sensor data for most systems disappeared as circuits all over the small vessel overloaded and relays fused. Acrid smoke began to seep into the cabin as dim emergency lights came on.

"Damnit," she muttered, before almost instantly turning to glance back at where Spock still slept. She was fully aware of the fact that he disliked some of the Human terms she'd picked up during her time at the Academy. Curses were definitely on that list, but it seemed appropriate given their situation. Words that he would find far more objectionable seemed even more appropriate.

Getting her console functional again required making several temporary connections that bypassed blown circuits. It was a quick fix that threatened to cause an electrical fire, but she didn't have a choice. If she didn't have a way of figuring out how bad things were, she would have no idea what repairs were necessary. However, the news from the internal sensors wasn't good.

The reactor was irrevocably damaged, leaving the ship with no impulse engines and nothing but auxiliary power. There was a slight possibility that she could get the warp drive back online if she could repair the plasma injector, but with the power conduits so badly damaged, engaging the drive would likely be a quick way to turn the ship into an antimatter bomb.

We are still drifting, Saavik realized. And I have no idea where. She disconnected the internal monitoring equipment in order to power some external components. The long range sensors had been fried, but that didn't matter. Short range scans told her all she needed to know – they were still on the edge of the ion storms and still heading towards near-certain destruction. It was just going to take a little longer now. Saavik was suddenly reminded of another phrase that she had learned on Earth: 'If we didn't have bad luck, we'd have no luck at all.' Vulcans didn't believe in luck, but then again, she wasn't fully Vulcan.

The exposed wires that she had used to rig up the systems were starting to smoke, so she disconnected everything. The damaged circuits were probably drawing too much energy from the auxiliary power systems, which was dangerous. If there wasn't enough power to keep life support running, they wouldn't have time to worry about the ion storms.

It suddenly dawned on her that it was far too smoky in the cabin for environmental systems to be working properly. A quick check of one of the computer screens in the aft section revealed that there was no power reaching the ventilation system. Toxins – such as smoke, leaking coolant, and carbon dioxide – weren't being taken out of the air, and those elements were already at the upper limits of the recommended range.

Bypassing more circuits was a dangerous prospect, but she had little choice. However, her unfamiliarity with the vehicle's systems finally caught up with her. As she connected two wires in the environmental system together, the whole panel erupted into a shower of sparks. The emergency lights flickered and died.

Saavik sat down on the floor, defeated. She could feel herself beginning to get a headache from the carbon dioxide and coolant. Vulcans could survive much more easily than Humans in thin air, but that didn't mean they could fare any better in a mildly toxic environment. She supposed it was fortunate that she hadn't started a fire, which would consume whatever oxygen remained.

"I broke my word to you," she quietly told Spock. "I did not get us out of this. Can you actually still hear me? If so, I am sorry, Spock. I am sorry that I brought you into this." She was pretty sure that the artificial gravity was beginning to fail; it seemed like she felt lighter – or perhaps she was just getting light-headed.

"This was supposed to be my death, and mine alone. All those years ago, I never thought I would leave this Zone…but I did. And you showed me what I could do with my life. I am uncertain if I ever properly thanked you for that."

The ship shuddered slightly; they were edging ever-closer to the ion storms. Saavik could feel unconsciousness pulling at her body. Her thoughts drifted to Sarek, whom she assumed was waiting back on the Colony for her and his son. The thought that they were going to leave him alone was overwhelmingly painful. He had been through too much already in recent years. Their katras would be lost, and there wasn't any way for her to tell him goodbye. There wasn't even a way to let him know what had happened to them. Would he wonder for years if they were both being held captive in a Romulan prison somewhere?

I am sorry, A'nirih, she thought to the man who had been her only father-figure for most of her life. The last thing she would have ever wanted to do was hurt him this way. She hoped that he knew how grateful she was for everything he had done for her.

Stringing together coherent thoughts was becoming increasingly difficult, and her vision was starting to tunnel. Fighting against the darkness took more energy than she had. Saavik threaded her fingers through Spock's, leaned against the bench he was lying on, and allowed her eyes to slip closed. The last thing that crossed her mind before she lost consciousness was the thought that she had started to hallucinate. She could swear that she heard a voice coming from somewhere.

"This is the Enterprise…"


TBC...

A/N: As always, thanks for the feedback! I'm glad you're enjoying the story.