A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! I hope that 2011 treats you all well :D
Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter :)
For those who have mentioned something like this: yes, I am aware of how unsettling the lack of McCoy and his snarkiness is. Patience, my dears. ;]
Chapter Eight
"Keep your fears to yourself but share your courage with others." - Robert Louis Stevenson
So this "milk run" mission ended up not going quite the way it was supposed to. Somehow, Kirk was not surprised.
They had been scheduled to rendezvous with a large freighter ship to drop off some supplies. The ship had not been at the rendezvous point but was a little less than one parsec away – not an entirely unusual occurrence as the ship's navigational systems were decidedly less precise than the Enterprise's.
What was unusual, however, was that their scanners detected that the freighter was floating derelict, lifeless, and crippled – and that something was causing engine malfunctions in the Enterprise.
Kirk pondered the information for all of five seconds, then swiveled in the command chair to look at Spock.
"Your thoughts, Mr. Spock?" he asked, his features troubled. Spock paused whatever he had been doing at the science console and turned to face him.
"The data we have gathered suggests that the engines and life support systems of the Nexonatl ceased functioning, causing the crew of twenty-seven to perish. Our engines have now reported malfunctions, suggesting a nearby outside cause of engine failure." Kirk sighed and leaned back.
"Unfortunately, I was thinking the same thing," he murmured, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Any ideas on what's causing the problems?"
"I believe that we do not have sufficient information to formulate a hypothesis at this time," Spock replied, glancing back at his screens. "Our long-range sensors should have more information within three minutes, however."
"All right. Let me know once you have something." Kirk promptly turned his attention elsewhere as Spock nodded and began working at his station once more. "Sulu, I want you to keep a careful distance from the Nexonatl for now. If something out there caused it to break down, I don't want us to fall victim to it too."
"Aye, sir," Sulu replied, but Kirk had already swiveled in his chair to call out to Uhura,
"Found anything?"
"There are traces of a standard subspace SOS that was sent out once in this area, about forty-five minutes ago," Uhura replied, fingers flying over her controls with her eyes locked steadily on the screens.
"So it works slowly enough that they had time to realize they were in trouble," Kirk mused to himself before replying, "Send out a message to Starfleet alerting them of the situation. Unless we receive contact from them I'm acting on my own judgment."
"Aye," she replied, fiddling with her earpiece, and he turned away to look at the viewscreen. The Nexonatl was a fairly standard freight ship, bulky and rectangular in a dirty reddish color. It was perfectly normal in appearance – there were probably thousands of ships identical to it – but looking at it made Kirk feel uneasy.
"Captain," came Spock's voice, and Kirk looked away from the viewscreen. "Our long-range sensors have finished scanning. It appears that a gas planet in the nearby Kot-Fi system is experiencing a major plasma storm. The resulting electrical interference may have been sufficient to severely inhibit the Nexonatl's engines, even at this distance." Kirk pursed his lips and nodded slowly.
"Okay," he replied. "Could it affect us?"
"It is possible. However, I believe the Nexonatl was closer to the planet when engine failure occurred, then drifted here. Therefore any effect on the Enterprise will be significantly less rapid."
"Okay," Kirk murmured, thinking. After a brief pause he said briskly, "I want a small away party to beam onto the Nexonatl to determine the exact cause of engine failure, and a team from Medical to determine the exact cause of death of the crew, just to be certain." He appeared to realize something, then looked quickly at Spock. "Wait. Could a warp core breach happen if their electrical systems are out?"
"I doubt it," Spock replied. "If a warp core breach were possible in these circumstances, it would have occurred within fifteen minutes of engine failure. There should be no risk of such an event occurring at this time."
"Okay, good," Kirk sighed, and he clicked on his intercom control. "Engineering, this is the bridge. Come in."
"Scott here, sir."
"Mr. Scott, I want you to select your three best engineers to beam aboard the freight ship to determine the exact cause of engine failure and see if there's any way to prevent such a malfunction from occurring."
"In that case, sir, I think I'm the proper man for the job," came the reply, and Kirk bit his lip.
"I don't know if I'm comfortable with you being off the ship if the engines get worse," he said steadily and the Scotsman snorted audibly.
"Ach, sir, I can assure ye that our engines will be perfectly fine for a good long while if that little hiccup ten minutes ago is any indication of what's goin' on," Scotty said, and again Kirk sighed.
"All right, I'll trust your judgment," he relented. "But I want you to take two more engineers to help you."
"Aye, sir. We'll be in the transporter room in five minutes. We'll need space suits if the life support's been shot."
"I'll make sure they're ready for you and your team. Kirk out." He flipped the intercom switch and was about to speak into it again when Spock interjected,
"Captain, I believe I should assist the engineering team." Kirk's hands clenched on the arms of the command chair and he whirled around to face the Vulcan in a startled knee-jerk reaction.
"It could be dangerous out there," he said quickly.
"I understand this," Spock replied evenly. "However, I have a thorough knowledge of the engineering skills required in this situation, as well of these scans, which the other engineers do not." He gestured towards his station. "I believe I could be of great assistance to Mr. Scott and his team."
Slowly Kirk stood up, staring at Spock with a tense expression. Uhura turned in her chair to look at them, brow furrowed – this could turn sour easily. The rest of the bridge crew had fallen silent, studying the exchange between Captain and First Officer with uncertain curiosity.
To Spock, Kirk's gaze was a pleading one – please don't make me do this – but he met the captain's gaze solidly, features set in determination. Finally Kirk swallowed nervously and said,
"All right, Mr. Spock, but... just be careful." Spock bowed his head slightly, whether in acquiescence or thanks Kirk was not sure.
"Certainly," Spock replied. "Mr. Chekov, if you could man the science station in my absence?"
"Aye, sir!" came the enthusiastic reply, out of place in the suddenly tense bridge atmosphere, as Chekov nearly jumped up out of his seat to sit in the chair Spock had just vacated – but Kirk paid him no mind, his eyes focused entirely on Spock as he walked to the turbolift. Their eyes met for an instant as the turbolift doors closed around him, and then he was gone. With a sigh, Kirk flicked the intercom back on.
"Sickbay, this is the bridge. Come in."
"M'Benga here, Captain."
"Doctor, pick a team of three to beam onto the freight ship to determine the exact cause of death of the crew. Be ready in the transporter room in five minutes."
"Aye, sir, I'm on it."
"Kirk out." He turned the intercom off, then sat back heavily in his chair. He closed his eyes and took in a heavy breath, the crew glancing at him curiously. He held his breath briefly, exhaled loudly, then opened his eyes and sat up a little straighter.
"Uhura, I want you to be monitoring the away team's frequencies carefully," he said, and she suppressed a smile of understanding.
"Aye, sir," she replied, glancing at him briefly. He pursed his lips and nodded curtly in reply.
The away team had been gone for half an hour when things began to take a turn for the worse – something that happened irritatingly far too often as far as Kirk was concerned.
"Bridge, this is the transporter room, come in."
"Kirk here. What's wrong?"
"Lieutenant Kyle here, sir, we've got a problem," came the hurried reply. "Whatever was affecting the engines is affecting the transporters now. We've completely lost two and three more are severely malfunctioning – I don't know how much longer the rest will last, sir." Kirk's heart fluttered in the beginnings of panic.
"Beam the away team out of there now, that's an order," he responded sharply, then quickly changed frequencies. "Away team, this is the Enterprise, come in." There was a pause before an answer came.
"Spock here, Captain."
"Spock, our transporters are failing. We're beaming you guys out before it's too late." Another pause, as if Spock were thinking.
"Understood," he said finally. "I will contact the transporter room immediately. Spock out."
"What do you mean contact the – ?" The connection was cut with a crackle of static. "Spock!" He slammed a hand down on his chair and growled, "What the hell is he doing?" The bridge crew was silent, having no answer for him, and he huffed and fumed in his dissatisfaction.
A few tense moments passed before Lieutenant Kyle's voice came through the intercom again. "Sir, we've gotten everyone out except for Mr. Spock, who requested to be beamed out last. I – dammit! We just lost another transporter."
"What? Beam him out of there now!" he exclaimed, panic jabbing at his insides.
"Scott here, sir, we're tryin' but the transporter's barely working. We've just managed to lock onto his signal." Kirk bit his lip. This was not looking good. He could hear the humming of the transporter faintly from the intercom speakers, but the noise went on for longer than normal and he heard Scotty mumbling,
"Come on, come on..." Suddenly the whine of the transporter changed sharply in pitch, becoming a shrill keening noise and Scotty exclaimed, "Shit, the fuses are about to blow – quick, take the controls, lad, I'm gonna... " His voice trailed off – he had stepped away from the controls – only to be replaced with Lieutenant Kyle's voice again – "I'm on it, sir!"
"What's going on down there?" Kirk demanded, leaning towards the arm of his chair frantically, heedless and uncaring of the desperate tone overtaking his voice. "Lieutenant, what's happening?"
"Ye've got to get 'im quick, lad," he heard Scotty shout. "I cannae make it last much longer!"
"I'm trying, I'm trying!" Kyle growled. "There – There, I've got him, I've got – !" The connection cut off abruptly with a hiss of static and Kirk slammed at the controls in a panic.
"Uhura, are communications out too?" he demanded, whirling to face her. She flinched at the vehemence in his voice but replied quickly,
"No, sir, but Maintenance just reported full transporter failure. Engines have dropped to fifty percent functionality and – "
"Spock to bridge," came a faint crackle from Kirk's chair and he promptly forgot Uhura's existence and scrambled to reply. "Spock to bridge, come in, please."
"Just a minute, Mr. Spock," Kirk replied breathlessly. "I'm recovering from a close encounter with a potential heart attack." Vaguely he heard a few uneasy chuckles from the bridge crew but he could focus only on the voice on the other end of the line.
"...I see," Spock replied after a slightly taken aback pause. "Perhaps you should report to Sickbay if you are experiencing such fatal organ failure."
"No, I... I think I'll be alright." He cleared his throat. "Are you okay? For a minute there it seemed like you were in a bit of trouble, Commander."
"Other than some slight disorientation from the transporter malfunction, I am functioning adequately."
"Good," Kirk replied, then seemed to gather himself. "Status report."
"We have gathered sufficient data from the Nexonatl to meet your request. I will send the data to the Science department to be compiled. Mr. Scott is requesting my assistance in repairing the engines, so I cannot see to the task myself."
"Understood," Kirk replied, beginning to feel more than a little shaky in the aftermath of his panic-induced adrenalin rush.
"It would be beneficial if Ensign Chekov were sent down to Engineering to assist in repairs as well."
"Sounds reasonable to me," he said as he glanced over at the youth at the Science station. "Call up your relief and get down there, Ensign."
"Aye, sir!" he chirped enthusiastically, and he hurried over to the turbolift. Kirk turned his attention back to the voice coming from his intercom.
"Is Mr. Scott there?" he asked.
"Scott here, Captain."
"Scotty, do we have warp capability what with the state of the engines right now?" A noncommittal, hesitant noise came in reply before the Scotsman said,
"Ach, we might be able to get a wee bit over Warp Two, but I doona recommend it, Cap'n. I think it'd be safest to stick to impulse power right now."
"All right, impulse it is," he sighed. "Get those engines up to speed quickly, and have someone start repairs on the transporters. Kirk out." He turned the intercom off and took a steadying breath before continuing,
"Mr. Sulu, get us out of here. That delivery job's looking like it won't be happening any time soon."
Finally, finally, the day was over. Reports had been sent in to Starfleet, engine repairs were mainly done, two transporters were back online and no more near-disasters had taken place.
Jim stumbled into his quarters at the end of his shift and promptly collapsed onto his bed, glaring half-heartedly at the ceiling before closing his eyes and expelling a heavy breath. The stress of the day finally had a chance to catch up to him, and he was completely and utterly exhausted. Getting up for dinner seemed way too difficult to deal with – maybe he would just rest a little while then replicate something, he wasn't that hungry anyway, just so, so tired...
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he heard the door of his bathroom slide open – but all thoughts of sleep were thrown from his mind at the noise and he scrambled to his feet as Spock's voice came hesitantly from the doorway, "Jim?"
"Spock," he breathed, their eyes locking, and Jim crossed the room in a few long, hurried strides and, without preamble, grabbed the Vulcan by the shoulders and kissed him ferociously, so that they went stumbling back until Spock's back hit the bathroom wall. His hands clutched possessively at Jim's back, pulling the Human body impossibly closer to his own as their teeth clashed and their tongues swirled around the other, faint noises escaping from the backs of their throats.
"You scared the hell out of me today," Jim growled against Spock's lips. "I kept thinking we'd have to leave you behind and you'd run out of oxygen before we could get back safely – and that bullshit with the transporter, I swear to God, Spock, if you ever, ever do something like that again I'm going to court martial the hell out of you."
"I am blameless for the events of today; you would be, as they say, 'laughed out of the courtroom'," he replied faintly, and they paused for a moment with their flushed foreheads pressed together as they gasped for breath. Spock cleared his throat and, his teasing tone suddenly gone, continued slowly, "If we are to keep our working relationship running at a level acceptable by Starfleet, there will be many instances such as today. As Captain, you will have to order me into undesirable situations, and as your First Officer, there will be potentially dangerous events you must be present for, and I will be forced to allow you to endanger yourself."
"I know," Jim mumbled, keeping his eyes firmly closed. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it. It doesn't mean I want to."
"I apologize for any stress I have caused you today," Spock said softly, and Jim chuckled faintly, finally opening his eyes to glance mischievously at the Vulcan.
"Yeah, well. Maybe you can make up for it by giving me a back massage. Help get rid of all that stress and tension, you know?" He grinned and extricated himself from Spock's grasp, who raised a quizzical eyebrow at the suggestion.
"I suppose that if you see it as an adequate form of repayment, Captain, I would be willing to oblige."
"I'm sure you would," Jim laughed, grabbing Spock's hand and pulling him into his quarters, then gave another tug to pull him down just enough so that he could press another kiss to the Vulcan's faintly green-flushed lips. "Or, you know, we could just do that for the rest of my life. I wouldn't mind that."
"That is a request I would be pleased to meet," Spock murmured, their arms wrapping about the other's body again, and Jim smiled against Spock's lips.