Trigger – Chapter 7

Marisa paced back and forth in the tiny hallway, her hands clasped behind her back. Should she knock? Or should she wait until later – breakfast tomorrow morning, maybe? Or maybe she shouldn't apologize at all. After all, he had never apologized for mistreating her. No, she reminded herself firmly. She was going to take the high road. She was going to be the better person.

She sighed, stopping in the middle of the corridor. Why was this so damn hard for her to do? She wasn't always this stubborn. She liked to think she was a relatively well-balanced person. Lately, however, Marisa knew that all evidence pointed the other direction. She was flying off the handle left and right, going from zero to sixty in less than a second. She couldn't control what she was saying or what she was feeling, and she didn't like it one bit.

A strand of blonde hair floated in front of her eyes, and Marisa reached up and tucked it back behind her ear. No matter what she did, there were always a few strands that were too short to fit into her ponytail. Sighing again, Marisa began pacing once more. She really should knock. She just needed to get this over with. Her plan was simply to apologize and then run in the opposite direction before he managed to reply. Marisa knew that if he did, she would inevitably find something offensive in it and snap back, and before she knew it they would be right back to hating each other's guts.

"Are you going to stand out there all night, Ward?" Her head snapped up, and she stopped in mid-step. Dammit. Kirk's door had hissed open without her noticing, and he was leaning casually against the doorframe.

"No," she replied, glaring. Double damn. She had lost her element of surprise, and now Kirk had the upper hand. Marisa felt off-balance. What did she say now? Would her apologize-and-run plan still work? She crossed her arms over her chest, deliberately staring at the floor.

"Well, then," Kirk continued with a smirk. "Do you have something to say to me?" Marisa took a deep breath. You can do it, Ward. She told herself. It was just two little words, after all. Well, two little words and a big hit to her pride and enough fodder for a week's worth of teasing. Oh, damn.

"I wanted to say," she began, steeling herself. She glanced up, finding a spot above Kirk's left shoulder to stare at. "I wanted to say that I was sorry." The words came out in a rush, tripping over themselves in their haste to get out. Marisa's cheeks flushed, but she held her gaze where it was. There – she had said it.

"You're…sorry? Is that what you said?" Kirk squinted, leaning forward a bit. If he was trying to get her to repeat it, then he was out of luck. There was no way in hell Marisa was saying that again.

"Yes," she replied stiffly. She crossed her arms tighter. A few more seconds now, and she could leave. She could run down the hall all the way to her room and lock herself in and write a long letter to Kim about how much she hated life right about now.

"Well, that's not something you hear everyday." He was too cheerful, leaning up against that stupid doorframe with that stupid grin on his face. Marisa had known this was going to happen. "What exactly are you sorry for? Everything?"

"Not everything," Marisa replied immediately. She bit her tongue. Why couldn't her brain learn to catch up with her mouth and keep her from saying stupid things? "I'm sorry for my comment earlier at dinner." She closed her eyes, forcing the words out once more. "About you mom. I didn't….I didn't mean it." There! Her eyes flicked open again. She had done it.

"Oh." She glanced a bit up and to the left, chancing a look at his reaction. He looked almost…thoughtful, which wasn't in his usual repertoire of facial expressions. She paused for a moment, not quite sure what to make of this. She had expected to flee back to her room to the sound of gleeful laughter and vicious taunts. Kirk seemed to be actually taking this seriously.

"Are you sure you're only apologizing for that?" He continued, a grin suddenly appearing on his face. "Because I've got a whole list of things that you ought to be sorry for." Marisa scowled darkly. Damn him for luring her into a false sense of security! And to think she had even considered the fact that Kirk might have been serious for even a second! Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm sure," she ground out. Kirk opened his mouth, probably to remind her about everything she had done since she arrived that he deemed worthy of an apology, but a loud wailing cut him off.

"Ah!" Marisa cried, ducking instinctively. The corridor flashed with a red light that pulsed on and off like a strobe. She could hardly hear herself think over the ear-splitting sound, and it took her a few minutes to overcome the shock. She glanced up at Kirk, but he had already closed the door behind him and was heading towards the bridge.

"Let's go Ward." He turned back and grabbed her wrist, tugging her along after him. For once, she didn't even protest.

"What's going on?" She asked him, glancing around to see the rest of the crew exiting their rooms, dashing through the corridors towards their posts. She had to take three steps for every one of Kirk's strides to keep up with him. "What's the alarm for?"

"We're under attack." In the glow of the red flashing light, Marisa could see that his face was grim. The smirk had been completely erased, and his eyes were focused only on the hallway in front of him. Marisa stumbled slightly in her boots, but Kirk just yanked up back up, his fingers wrapped so tightly around her wrist that her fingers were beginning to tingle.

"Captain!" Someone cried out the moment they entered the bridge. Everything was in absolute chaos. Even for Marisa, who had hardly been on the ship for a week, knew that something was seriously wrong.

"Captain, we're under attack." That was Spock now, standing right next to them. Marisa had no idea how he got there. Kirk was still holding on to her wrist, but her knees felt a bit weak as she looked around. She could see Chekhov up at the weapons station, frantically typing in codes to the computer. She needed to help him.

"Who is it?" Kirk asked, letting go of Marisa's wrist and striding across the bridge. He took a seat in the captain's chair, leaning forward so that his elbows resting on his knees. "How many ships? What are they shooting? Do you know what they want?" He looked around the room. "Chekhov, how're the shields holding up?"

"It's Talosians," he replied, his voice thin. "We're okay for now, but they've got more guns than us. We won't last forever." Marisa hadn't moved. She looked from Kirk's grim face to Chekhov's pale one. Uhura was bent over her communications station, frantically trying to get in touch with Starfleet to call for backup. Sulu's face was tense as he opened up a screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard. It was so surreal to think that just a minute ago she had been arguing with Kirk over something as stupid as apologizing.

There wasn't a lot of talking, but the whole room seemed so loud. She supposed it was just the tension, the pressure of the whole situation. Marisa shook her head, willing herself to snap out of it. After all, this wasn't training anymore – this was a real live emergency, and they needed her help. She strode quickly across the room, taking her seat in front of the weapons system next to Chekhov. The curly-haired man didn't even spare her a glance as he continued punching in codes to activate the weapons. Marisa watched what he was doing for a couple of seconds, trying to catch up.

"I'm firing the nose guns now," he told her, slightly breathless. "Can you check the shield strength? Let me know how the starboard side is doing," he told her. "That's where they seem to be aiming for the most." Marisa simply nodded, keying in her I.D. code and pulling up the shield schematics. The right sight was pulsing yellow. That wasn't a good sign.

"Overall we're at a 74%," she told him. "But the starboard bow is only at 60%, and going down fast." Chekhov cursed, and Marisa quickly pulled up another screen. "Have you started firing the stern guns yet?" She asked him.

"No," he replied quickly. "I'm just doing the bow ones now. Pull up and couple and get them shooting – the ships are off of our starboard side, three of them." He reached up and wiped his hand across his face, and Marisa could see that his forehead was glistening with sweat. He was nervous. She gulped, pausing for a moment as she entered in her code. Just how bad was this attack? Was it worse than most skirmishes? Marisa looked around at the rest of the crew, the rest of her friends, frantically trying to fight off the invaders. Even Kirk was all business, pacing around the bridge now and yelling out orders to everyone. Marisa couldn't follow fast enough to tell exactly what was going on, but it didn't sound good.

Suddenly, a blast hit the side of the ship and the whole Enterprise rocked. Marisa found herself flung backwards in her chair, sliding away from the controls. A few people had fallen over, their shrieks echoing through the room.

"Let's go, let's go!" Kirk shouted. "Uhura, have you managed to contact Starfleet yet?" Without waiting for her to answer, he pressed on. "Sulu, a little more to the right. Turn the ship around as much as you can – we're got to protect our starboard bow. If she goes, it's all over. Ward, Chekhov, fire everything we've got! We need more power." He walked across the room to talk with one of the other captains, and Marisa turned back to her station.

As she glanced down at the keyboard in front of her, however, she paused. If she goes, it's all over. She could hear Kirk's words in her mind, echoing over and over again. It's all over. That couldn't happen. It was Marisa's first week on the ship – she hardly knew what she was doing on a regular day, much less in an emergency. Everyone had been laughing and joking around just that evening. Everything had been fine. And now, here they were, a few shots away from it all being over.

"Ward!" She could hear his voice from across the bridge, and for once it didn't provoke any reaction but panic, which was already brewing in her system. "Where are the stern guns?" She shook her head frantically, looking back down at the keyboard. The stern guns, the stern guns. Marisa couldn't remember the activation code! Another blast hit the ship, less intense this time. She checked the shields – 66%.

"Here, here!" Chekhov leaned over and punched in the code on her screen, his fingers flying so quickly over the keys that they were just a blur. The machine beeped, and Marisa could picture the stern guns sliding out from their recesses, ready to go. She bit her lip

"Thanks, Chekhov." He didn't seem to hear; he was already back at work, looking at the shields and the guns and the radar all at once, his eyes flying back and forth. Marisa turned back to her screens and pulled up the schematics for the stern guns to check their power. She had worked on them with Scotty the other day, so they should be ready to go. Glancing up, she checked the enemy ships' coordinates on the radar and quickly punched them in, aiming the guns in the proper direction.

Bam! Marisa was flung out of her seat entirely, landing with a crash on the ground. Her knee banged up against the control station as her head hit the ground. She hadn't even had time to scream. A new wave of panic broke out as people rushed to get back to their stations. Marisa slowly pulled herself to her knees, but her right leg was throbbing and her head was spinning. She stopped for a moment to let a wave of nausea pass. She wasn't sure if the ship was actually listing to starboard or if it was all in her head. Suddenly, she felt a strong hand grasp her forearm, the strong fingers wrapping around it like it was just a toothpick. She stumbled as she was pulled to her feet.

"Come on, Ward." Marisa looked up to meet a pair of bright blue eyes narrowed in concentration. Kirk's mouth was set in a thin line, and his face was just inches from her own. "Pull yourself together. We need you." Just as quickly as he was there, he released her wrist and was back across the bridge again, talking urgently to Spock in the corner. Marisa swayed slightly, but managed to get back over to her chair.

Come on, Ward. She set her jaw, pressing her lips together tightly as she pulled up the stern guns again. Pull yourself together. She checked to make sure that their aim was true, powering them up completely. The ship rocked again, and a fresh wave of screams broke out. She could hear something metallic pop in the background. We need you. She fired.

AN: I'm still here! I haven't abandoned this story, I promise. Things have been absolutely crazy lately, but exams are next week and after that I should have some more free time to write. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been reading and reviewing – it means a lot to me! So there's definitely a lot more action in this chapter, and things are starting to pick up. Hope you enjoyed it!