They materialized at the same beam-down point where Kirk had first been introduced to Aegis some ten days earlier. Only this time, he did not enjoy the lush foliage and red painted sky. This time, the world before him was grey nothingness.
"Lieutenant," Spock said from off to his left. "Set a parameter."
Spock had insisted on guards, but Kirk didn't think it was going to make a difference. They weren't going to be attacked. And if they were, the guards were not going to be able to prevent whatever would happen. He knew that with certainty. He shifted his weight to his good leg and stood in place while Spock established security parameters. A trickle of sweat ran off Kirk's forehead and he raised a hand to wipe it, feeling the heavy pressure in his chest. It had been getting more difficult to breathe, and he felt the lightheadedness associated with low oxygen levels.
Feet shuffled to the right of him.
"How are you doing, Jim?" Bones asked.
The doctor had insisted on joining the team and Kirk hadn't argued. His head ached constantly; he struggled not to gasp for breath. He worried that he would not make it to the gateway. Turning toward where he knew Bones stood, he said, "Fine. Don't remember it being this hot down here."
It was Spock who responded. "The temperature is seven degrees Celsius higher than when the first landing party materialized. I believe the primary jet stream may have moved from its original position. It is impossible to know without further analysis if this is a natural phenomenon or a result of the temporal fracture."
"Spock, why do you have to be so technical about everything," Bones said. "Can't you just it's hot?"
"I just did."
"How far are we from where you found me, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"Not far, Captain. Three hundred meters."
McCoy let out a deep breath. "You should have beamed us down there. I don't like Jim walking through this jungle."
"We would have surrendered the element of surprise," Spock said blandly. "They already know we're here," Kirk said, ending the debate. "Let's go."
Bones took his hand and guided it to his arm. Kirk tightened his fingers around the muscular bicep and let Bones lead the way. It was slow maneuvering with his knee in a brace and without sight. There were no clear trails, and the ground proved cumbersome to navigate – soft in some places and rocky in others. He allowed his other senses to take over, feeling his way through the dense foliage. He heard the steady and sure pace of the guards in front and behind them, the occasional whirl of a tricorder. Bones swore occasionally under his breath, followed by the sound of rustling leaves. Despite the circumstances, it made Jim smile. Bones hated this kind of work, content to remain on the ship in the security of his medical bay.
Sweat ran down his back, soaking quickly into the fabric of his undershirt. It wasn't long before the pressure in his chest had increased, making breathing more of a struggle. He tried to steady his breath and take more controlled inhalations, but it was difficult in the heat. After fifteen minutes of walking he stumbled, his knee giving out. His hand slipped its hold on Bones and he landed sharply on his good knee, feeling the brush of leaves against his face.
In an instant, Bones was kneeling at his side, hands supporting his shoulders. The whirl of a medical tricorder sounded. He wanted to tell Bones he was all right, but he couldn't seem to get enough air in his lungs. He leaned toward the doctor, taking weight off his injured knee which throbbed painfully. He was suddenly very aware of how little recovery time he'd had, and how easily fatigued he had become.
Bones' hand left his shoulder to slide to the side of his neck. The sharp sting of a hypo quickly followed. Kirk blinked through the darkness and concentrated on breathing. Whatever Bones had given him, he felt less lightheaded. The hammering of his heart slowed as his respiration evened out. Through it all, he had remained on his knees with his hands pressed into the moist ground. Now he slowly leaned back on his heels, stretching out his sore leg with a muted groan.
Bones brushed his hand over Kirk's forehead. "Better?"
He nodded and reached out to lay a trembling hand on the doctor's leg.
"He's gotta rest," Bones said. "His O2 sats are low. The last thing he needs to be doing is traipsing around this damned jungle."
"I'm good now," Kirk muttered breathlessly. "We're close."
"The Captain is correct. We are less than a hundred meters from the site."
Bones' tricorder whirled again and he attached his hand to Jim's bicep. "Ready?"
He nodded, not trusting his voice, and allowed Bones to haul him into a standing position. It took a moment to get oriented and balanced, still favoring his leg and leaning heavily on Bones.
"Go slow. I can't give you another tri-ox for half an hour."
Terrific. The tri-ox always gave him a headache and he added that to his list of aches. They continued slowly, his knee throbbing and head pounding, sweat soaking his shirt. Despite the slowed pace, he continued to struggle to breathe, stopping twice to catch his breath and ease the dizziness. At last the path was clear of foliage. A hot breeze caressed his face. It was the first stirring of air he'd felt since he'd arrived, and he took a moment to savor it and to rest.
WELCOME.
The voice was clear and loud, reverberating inside his head. He staggered from the unexpected contact. Something inside of him shivered. He felt the first touch of the other like an invasion into the most private places of his mind.
"Jim, what's wrong?" Bones asked.
He reached out in the direction of the doctor's voice, needing the reassuring contact in his sightless world. Bones' moved within reach and let him grip an arm. "What's our location?"
Spock answered. "We are at the area of the temporal fracture."
He heard the whine of Spock's tricorder and the guards moving into position, but had difficulty orienting himself. It was like standing in zero gravity with no reference points – the world around him tipped and shifted. The strange pull within his mind strengthened, tightening the hold that felt like an old rope, dry and brittle with twisted fibers that had long since outworn their usefulness. He wanted to shake it loose, to free himself….
He took a faltering step and gripped hard on McCoy.
"Jim…."
His legs were heavy and everything seemed to be pulling him down, as if he was a tethered prey animal and the planet was a starved predator about to devour him. He imagined his legs sinking into the black soil…. A high-pitched buzzing noise filled his ears. God, how he wished he could breathe! There was no air. Suddenly, he felt Bones' hands on him, steadying him as the world tipped beneath his feet.
"You need to sit down," Bones said, his voice thick with worry.
His legs collapsed gracelessly beneath him. Bones swore softly as he lowered him to the ground, forcing him to lie flat. His head hit the ground with a thud as he struggled to breathe. His body seemed far away, no longer his to command.
Large, cool hands touched his face with gentle and precise care.
"Jim, can you hear me?"
Were his eyes open? He didn't know. The air was sucking at his lungs like a hungry infant at its mother's breast. Someone was wheezing.
A light slapping on his cheek. "Jim?"
I hear you….
"Doctor?" Spock's voice sounded uncertain and as if it was coming from far away.
"I'm working on it."
He couldn't make his body work. Everything was numb and strangely paralyzed. A hypo was pressed to his neck. The sting of medication infusing into his veins ignited something within him. His lungs filled with air and the pressure lessened in his chest as nerves and muscles awoke with renewed energy.
"Take it easy, Jim." Bones' hands were on his chest, familiar and comforting.
He was moving against the ground, struggling to free himself from its hold, struggling against the darkness that enfolded him and the very alien presence that was now vibrating inside him. His head pounded with a vengeance, sharp daggers drilling into his skull. Someone moaned.
A hand pressed to his forehead. He recognized the touch. He captured Bones' hand, just at the wrist, and clung to it with desperation.
"It's just the tri-ox hitting your system," the doctor said evenly. "Just relax."
His hand began to shake, but he kept himself anchored to Bones as the link pulled at the very core of him, tightening every muscle in his body. His body arched.
"Jim, listen to me." Bones' voice was stern and commanding, but his touch was gentle. "I need you to relax. You're all right. Just breathe."
WE ARE WAITING.
Get out! He shouted from the very depths of his soul, pushing against the entity that suddenly had become too intrusive. He couldn't focus on a single thought. His mind was filled with a chatter that had no words, like the din of the cicadas on a hot summer night in Iowa when the fields were full and ripe.
And then everything stopped. His body went limp. The pounding in his head ceased, to be replaced with a dull buzz. The darkness was warm and comforting and wrapped around him like a soft blanket. He sank into it. It was eternal and boundless and he was free. He let himself fall.
Spock removed his hand from the side of Jim's face.
"What did you do?" McCoy asked, scowling at the man who lay still and unconscious beneath his hands. He picked up a scanner.
"I erected a barrier. A…resting place." Spock looked up, peering into the thick vegetation. "He will sleep for several hours."
McCoy studied the Vulcan's profile, the stern features that revealed nothing. After a moment, he checked the readings on the med-scanner and sighed with relief.
"What happened? What the hell was that, Spock?"
"An invitation." The Vulcan stood and nodded to the guards who were positioned strategically around Jim. He walked a few meters beyond where Jim lay, opening his senses to the entity who called itself the gatekeeper. He had felt the hunger of the entity as it drew Jim near in a desperation that transcended logic. The intensity of the alien link was proving to be hazardous to Jim, who was unprepared and unskilled at managing such an experience. The human mind was not designed to tolerate links and melds; Spock's own mother had struggled for many years with her bond with Sarek, before finally accepting it. To suddenly force a link, without consent, on an unsuspecting mind was a criminal act and strictly prohibited by most species of sentient life.
Spock took a moment to quiet his mind, submerging emotion. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and sent his mind searching. Through the link he shared with Kirk, he could identify the narrow invasive thread of the entity. It was faint for him, a flickering image that threatened to fade from his perception of it. He focused intently, and it felt as though he were eavesdropping on a conversation he knew nothing about. Despite his caution, the entity sensed him. A tremor shook the link, and Spock stilled his mind, offering no threat or challenge. The entity simply ignored him. With the patience only a Vulcan could sustain, he waited, opening his mind to sense any communication. In the still twilight of the in-between world, he lingered like an uninvited party guest trying not to be noticed.
Time was a created and artificial concept. In the ethers, time did not exist. It was not lineal, but malleable. Vulcans had been able to access segments of time through deep meditation for centuries; it was how they preserved their heritage. The gateway, Spock was discovering, was more than a portal into another dimension. It was a portal into another time, to a people who did not yet exist.
He waited as the consummate observer, until something summoned him away. Slowly, so slowly, he withdrew his mind and opened his eyes to discover McCoy standing next to him, scowling.
"Did you hear me?" McCoy asked impatiently.
Spock raised a single eyebrow.
"I said we have to get back to the ship."
The sun was setting and most of the small clearing that surrounded them was cast in dark shadows. Spock looked back to where Jim still lay sleeping. "Something has happened?"
"No, he's been sleeping, but I'm not staying the night on this planet with Jim unstable and some alien mind probe tap-dancing in his brain. I want him back on the ship where he's safe."
Spock looked around, assessing. The guards remained in place and alert. "Unfortunately, Doctor, we must remain."
It was too late now to take Jim back. The entity was clearly aware of his presence, and removing Jim from the planet could prove to be dangerous, possibly fatal.
No, they had to stay…and they had to open the gate.
"Stay with the Captain," Spock ordered.
He called the Enterprise and ordered provisions. Within fifteen minutes, Security had established a well-lit parameter, using lighting poles. The guards seemed unnerved by the encroaching darkness; they had erected a security boundary, as well, one that would alert them to any movement near the designated area. The remembered image of their Captain lying unconscious with a deadly arrow in his knee was not far from their minds. Spock could not object to their caution and protectiveness, even if their efforts would prove to be ineffective. Whatever or whoever had established the gateway, was also capable of destroying them. No phaser would be effective against it.
His objections unheard, McCoy kept out of the way, staying close to Jim, who remained in a heavy sleep. The temperature dropped and coolness clung to the ground, bringing a thin fog that rose from the black soil like an eerie specter. When everything was as set as Spock could make it, he joined McCoy, crouching on his heels next to Kirk.
"It is time to wake the Captain."
McCoy looked uncertain, glancing around at the military parameter with growing anxiety. He looked back at Spock as if he might say something, but abandoned the thought and returned his attention to Jim. Very gently, he woke the young man, who stirred slowly out of his slumber.
Blinking several times, Kirk moved restlessly, reaching out into his darkness. "Bones?"
"I'm here," McCoy said, capturing his hand and gripping a bicep with the other. "You're still on the planet."
Jim rose on to his elbows with a soft grunt, blinking and trying to look around. "What happened?"
"The entity made contact with you," Spock said, watching emotions play across the pale face, trying to decipher the man's thoughts. Had the entity made clear its intentions? Or was it simply trying to use Jim's physical state as leverage?
"How do you feel?" McCoy asked. He was watching Kirk intently.
"Tired."
McCoy nodded. "Your O2 sats are still too low. So is your blood pressure."
"It's cold," Jim murmured, shivering slightly.
"The sun has set," Spock supplied. "Are you ready?"
Jim sat up, intensely focused on an area ahead of him. McCoy scowled at Spock, clearly unhappy with his question. Before the doctor could respond, Jim slowly struggled to get to his feet.
McCoy attached himself to an arm and offered balance. "Take it slow, Jim." But Kirk was so intent on staring into the darkness that he seemed not to hear.
Spock rose with them, staying close and studying the young man's expression that had transformed into an illustration of wonderment.
"…I see the gateway," Jim said.
8