A/N: Hi all! I just wanted to write this note and explain a few things really quickly; I'll try not to post too many author's notes in the future. First I'd like to say that this piece was inspired by a short ff story written by Jesse-Kips; I won't tell you the title because I don't want anyone to get a sense of how this story is going to go, but I will say that I have Jesse-Kips' blessing to write this (and that means A LOT). It's mostly Spock/Uhura but I do try and give all the characters some time. I'm giving this story a T rating for now but may change it to M later-but don't worry, I'll try and give plenty of notice before I do that though. Also, this is my first attempt at Star Trek fan fiction of any kind and I'm bound to screw up some details...so please don't bash me too hard for it. I researched certain items as best I could but I get the impression that that isn't always enough.
Lastly I am my own beta, and despite numerous careful edits there are bound to be some errors here too. Alas, I have no one to blame but myself.
Oh yeah, and standard disclaimers apply, I own nothing except original characters, yadda, yadda, yadda. Enjoy Broken Orbit and remember, if you like it shoot me a review; it's the only type of payment fan fic authors ever get!
Chapter 1
Anguillida - Detention Center, Stardate 2261.30, 1921 hours. "Stupid, slimy, ugly buggers," McCoy grumbled under his breath. He slid along the wall behind Jim and the rest of the team as they crept toward the room where they hoped Lt. J.G. Marks and Commander Spock were being held. "And non-hostile my ass. Next time Starfleet brass oughta do their homework before sending us on our merry way. Jim, if the Federation ever wants you to make contact with any eel-like species again you tell them no, you hear me? N-O."
"Sure Bones. Whatever you say," the captain replied quietly before shuffling on ahead with his phaser outstretched.
Well damn.Jim was just as worried about their missing crew as he was, most likely more, and with good reason. Marks was as green as the day he left the Academy and Spock was—well he had almost as good a knack for getting into trouble as their fearless leader. Who knew what might be happening to him right now?
Len ran a hand down his face and smothered a sigh. This was going to be a long night.
He wished he knew how the hell things went wrong, but being near the back of the landing party made it difficult to eavesdrop. The Anguillidans spoke briefly to the Captain and Marks before growing hostile; then he heard the rapid rise in hiss and clicks as they discussed amongst themselves whatever it was that set them off. Turns out it was a serious enough offense they had to be carted off to a jail cell.
He would've rather suffered through the high-falootin' welcome banquet instead.
They'd been stripped of their phasers and communicators—even his medkit was taken away which bothered him somethin' awful—before being locked in. Long ago McCoy thought that dungeons like these only existed in old horror films but since his enlistment he'd learned dark and dingy cells were universal. Thinking of all the alien germs lurking about he tentatively picked his way to a spot in the corner and sat down to wait. It was only a matter of time before Uhura noticed their missed check-in and then Scotty would either beam them back up (unlikely) or Jim and Spock would eventually drag him in on some hare-brained escape plan and effect their own rescue (very likely).
Either way he figured he'd rest up while he could.
Things had been going swimmingly in the latter direction for the last half hour until several Anguillidans came and, after a discussion amongst themselves, hauled Marks and Spock away without explanation.
Like he said, if it wasn't Kirk getting into trouble than it was the damned hobgoblin. The two of them were making him prematurely gray…correction; grayer.
Another half hour later in a scheme involving him, Kirk, Lieutenant Reichlen, a belt buckle, some chewing gum and one of his good socks (from his favorite pair too, a cashmere set sent to him by Joanna on his last birthday) they were out of their cell and reunited with their gear, stalking the halls in search of their friends.
The hiss clicks could be heard emanating from a room at the far end of the passageway where they were headed. Through the light seeping out under the door McCoy could see the Slimers' feet as they shuffled past and he shuddered.
"Alright," Jim announced with a resolute nod to the group. "Let's roll."
Every time. Every g-ddamn time. Just when Len thought his friend had finally matured the reckless Iowa kid returned and was currently rushing headlong down the hall ahead of Chief Giotto and kicking in the door. After a tense and tumultuous few minutes of heavy phaser fire and shouting he finally heard someone inside cry 'Doctor!' and he dashed in to treat the injured.
They looked to be in some kind of laboratory but he didn't study it much. At his feet lay the Anguillidans, a few writhing in pain while the rest were stunned into silence. Marks appeared to be on the floor of a cage and Spock was strapped to a table with a halo-like device wrapped around his head and shoulders. Both appeared to be unconscious…at least he hoped they were unconscious. If they weren't than he didn't want to be the one to tell Jim they were dead.
"Get him out of there!" the Captain shouted to the ensign at his left. She worked on freeing the Junior Communications Officer while he went to work frantically yanking at the bindings around their First Officer. From somewhere behind him he could hear a security officer comm'ing the Enterprise for an emergency beam out and he quickly joined Jim in freeing Spock.
The First Officer was limp as a rag doll and pale, reminding McCoy of the last time he'd entered a healing trance after an encounter on Obsidian Prime. The man lost a lot of blood that time and looked just as gray then too. Grunting as the full weight of his friend was suddenly thrust on his shoulders he fervently hoped things weren't as bad as all that; they almost hadn't gotten Spock back that time.
A sudden rush of slimy footsteps was heard in the hall.
"Get down!"
The warning was barely out of Jim's mouth before more Anguillidan guards flooded the room and both parties renewed their fire. Len ducked for cover and winced as he heard the unmistakable sound of a thick Vulcan skull connecting with the stone floor. Great, now he'll likely be concussed on top of everything else…
The familiar swirl of the transporter beam encompassed them all.
Anguillida - Detention Center, Stardate 2261.30, 1850 hours. Despite the species' similarity in appearance Spock deduced that the latest addition to their party included not more prison guards but scientists. His grasp on the Anguillidan language was not what it should have been but he quickly surmised that he and Lieutenant Marks were soon to be the subjects of a highly unethical experiment—one that he had no wish to take part in.
"Lieutenant."
"Y-yes Sir?"
Spock suppressed the very humanly urge to sigh. He had only himself and the Captain to blame for the young man's utter lack of preparation. This was only Lieutenant Marks' fourth away mission in the last three years and his first hostile encounter. Nyota was usually requested to join such landing parties but for some inexplicable reason the Captain decided to have her remain on the ship.
He was incredibly grateful for that decision.
Returning to the situation at hand he calculated the number of ways he and the Lieutenant could successfully subdue their captors and return to free their colleagues. Spock knew that he could take at least two of the Anguillidans down before the others had a chance to react. The rest of the group would prove challenging but he was certainly capable of defending himself.
Depending on Marks' abilities Spock calculated a 47.8% chance of success. The odds, while not heavily in their favor, were ones he would have to take.
Calm as could be he reached out and nerve-pinched the guard immediately to his right. "I believe it is time for us to depart."
To his credit the Lieutenant reacted admirably, his formal combat training kicking in within seconds of the first punch being thrown. That said, their captors were still quick to subdue him and Spock strove on alone, a combination of nerve pinches and suus mahna techniques enabling him to fend off unwanted blows. His defenses held for 3.52 minutes before one of the Anguillidan men was able to lay a sinewy hand on his arm; 1500 volts of electricity jolted through his body and seared the sleeve of his uniform. The shock stunned him, impeding his body's response time by 4.7 seconds, and his captors quickly caught on to the weakness. Soon hands were being lain all over him, sending a mass of pain and shock anger surprise hurt rage curiosity intrigue.
The last conscious thought he had was of his adun'a*. His only regret—illogical though it was—was that she had not yet shared her secret with him before beaming down.
Anguillida - Detention Center, Stardate 2261.30, 1903 hours. "The pale one is lacking," Ri-tek announced to the lab. "It would be a waste of our time to continue. Set him aside." His underlings hurried to undo the restraints and release the subject from the table; once they had him upright a thick red line trailed down his forehead between his eyes. Ri-tek wanted to learn more about this substance but his orders came from the Minok himself and time was of the essence; he would have to satisfy his own curiosity once they were through with this first task. "Bring the tall one here. We'll see if he's better suited."
His subordinates swapped the men in and out of the cage, strapping the next one firmly down. In a matter of minutes a sample was extracted and analyzed. Ri-tek sat before the view screen and carefully studied the results.
"Fascinating," Shthena remarked over his shoulder as she leaned in to review the data.
"Yes. Quite." Turning to the rest of his team he instructed, "Begin full extraction procedures immediately."
The Minok would be pleased.
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.30, 1927 hours. "Where the hell is my triage team?"
He struggled to keep him and Spock upright on the transporter pad, the slight man being dead weight in his arms. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Chapel, Klein, and Ofunzi rushed in, just like they'd trained bi-weekly since the start of their mission.
Never could be too careful when Jim was the Captain, after all.
"What happened?" Chris asked as they got Spock on the gurney. Once he was strapped in they took off at a run.
"Let's just say we had a hell of a welcoming party," he answered with a grimace. "Stats?"
"BP's 65 over 30, heart rate 177, temperature 26.32 degrees Celsius, breathing shallow and irregular. There are also second and third degree burns on the upper half of his body." Christine frowned at the tricorder in her hands. "Doctor, I can't make any sense of these readings. He's not in a healing trance but he's not entirely unconscious either; and aside from the burns the Commander is physically fine."
Len knew that already but Chapel's confirmation and concern only made him scowl more. The readings were highly irregular, even for their rather unique colleague. He glanced at Spock again and willed the man to wake up, if only to tell him what the hell happened down there and why.
The sickbay doors opened at their approach as they rounded the last corner. He looked for M'Benga only to find him busy treating a patient of his own behind a half-closed curtain. Never mind, he'd deal with it later; he needed to get back to Spock.
"Alright, let's get him up on table 3 and bring his temperature back up; and somebody get me 50 cc's of Myclornifin. If he's been poisoned then we need to detox him fast, see if we can't bring him around so he can explain just what in the blazes happened." The team sprang to life and McCoy turned to reach for the hypospray; as he did so he watched Ofunzi wipe away the trickle of emerald blood that snaked down the Commander's forehead onto his nose.
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.30, 2113 hours. He sank into his familiar seat in Bones' office and waited. Now that the good doctor had had a chance to look him over and declare him 'miraculously g-ddamn healthy for a change' (something he'd been surprised by too), Kirk waited for an update on his injured crewmen.
Moving behind the desk McCoy sat down and leaned over, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bottle and two glasses. Jim instantly recognized the non-replicated Kentucky bourbon and frowned; Bones only brought out the good stuff after a really tough case (or a particularly difficult call from Jocelyn). Something was seriously wrong.
Bones poured them each a glass and slid one across the desk then took a generous sip. "I don't know what to tell you. Aside from a few bruises and burns the two of them are perfectly healthy. I've run every test I can think of and yet they still won't wake up."
Jim sipped his bourbon slowly. "What does that even mean?"
He watched his friend resist the urge to roll his eyes. "It means they're in a coma. Well, Marks is at any rate; Spock looks to be halfway between a coma and a healing trance, I can't really tell."
Kirk nodded. "And you can't bring them out of it because…"
Bones pounded his glass against the desk. "Dammit, don't you think I would've if I could? By all accounts these men shouldn't even be lyin' in my sickbay right now! I've no idea what was done to 'em, no idea how to treat it and if I push the wrong combination of drugs on 'em now there's a good chance they could die!" Picking up his glass again he took another long gulp before muttering darkly, "When Uhura gets down here she's gonna have my hide."
"You mean she's gonna have my hide. I'm the one that ordered him along."
"And left her behind."
"Thanks for reminding me." Jim rolled his eyes and steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation between Captain and Communications Officer with another sip of bourbon.
A knock at the door made them both turn in time to see M'Benga stick his head in.
"Sorry to interrupt," he said, "But you said you wanted to see me?"
Bones motioned for him to come in and take the only other free seat. Offering the man a glass Geoff politely shook his head. "I wanted to ask you what was wrong with your mystery patient."
A look of confusion flashed across Geoffrey's face. "Mystery patient? You mean Nurse Mackenzie didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"My patient, it's Lieutenant Uhura. She collapsed shortly before you were beamed up from the surface."
Bones nearly spit out his drink. Drawing a hand down his haggard face McCoy whispered "Jesus" before casting his eyes questioningly at Geoff.
"She's fine, just fainted," he said. "It wasn't copper poisoning."
Copper poisoning? But that only happens when… "She's pregnant?"
Why hadn't anyone told him?
"Doctor/Patient confidentiality, Jim; besides, she only came in for confirmation a few days ago. I don't even think the elf knows yet."
"Geez."
"Tell me about it." Turning back to M'Benga, he asked, "Where is she now?"
"She's still here. I wanted to keep her overnight for observation just to be safe. Mackenzie gave her a light sedative to help her rest."
"Good, good." The CMO poured himself a little more to drink then tucked the bottle back in it's drawer. "Although…" Jim waited on the edge of his seat but Bones waved the thought off. "Never mind. We'll just wait and see." He rose to usher them out. "Well I guess there's nothin' left for us to do now except wait for one of 'em to wake up; and Jim you should really get some rest too."
He finished his drink and headed for the door before stopping and looking at the doctors. "You'll page me when there's news, right?"
"Of course." Bones must've seen something in his face because he added, "And don't go hangin' around here thinkin' I won't and worryin' yourself to death or I'll be sure and find a couple of hypos with your name on 'em."
Behind him M'Benga was laughing so hard he was probably doubled over and he heard McCoy grumble, "You look like a damn fool runnin' outta here like that…"
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.31, 0735 hours. The monitor's over Uhura's bed notified him of her imminent awakening and McCoy made sure to be by her side when she finally fluttered her eyes.
Plastering a smile and a calm he didn't feel he easily reached for her wrist to take her pulse. " Mornin' darlin'. How're you feelin'?"
"Fine," she said feebly. "A little groggy."
"That's just the last of the sedative. You'll be more alert in a few minutes, once you've got some breakfast in you."
"Ok." She started to lean back when she got a faraway look in her eye. Squinting, Nyota asked, "Where's Spock?"
Easing her back towards the pillow he said, "He's just a couple beds over, Hun. Now I want you to lay back and relax…"
"Something's wrong. What aren't you telling me?"
Damn she's a sharp one. He'd been hoping to put off the inevitable until at least after breakfast. "What makes you think something's wrong?"
Nyota pointed to her temple and waited with an irritated expression. Oh, right, he forgot about the bond. Apparently he wasn't as clever as he thought. "It's quiet…too quiet. Now what's going on?"
He pulled up a chair and sat down, trying to think of the best way to put the news to her without scaring her. "We, uh, had a little scuffle on Anguillida."
"A scuffle?" she asked skeptically.
What could he say? They tended to have that effect on people sometimes. "Seems they didn't take too kindly to mankind after all."
"So then just what happened to my husband?"
"Honestly?" She nodded. "I don't know. They separated us from Spock and Lt. Marks before we could affect a rescue. By the time we found 'em they were both in a coma."
Her eyebrow lift reminded him eerily of her husband. What, did they spend hours just staring at each other perfecting that look? "Vulcans don't just fall into comas..."
"Nevertheless that's exactly what it is. I've run scans on them both, multiple times; there's nothing wrong with 'em but they're still not wakin' up."
Nyota processed the information for a moment and Len was about to make his escape when she asked, "So what do you plan on doing about it?"
If there was anything he hated worse than being told what to do it was being told—even if it was just inferred—that he was incompetent. He was about to bark as much at her when she leaned back and closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath to try and keep her fierce composure. She was talking from a place of worry and hurt, he realized, and in her condition it wouldn't due to upset her further. The last thing he wanted was for Spock to wake up and go all suus mahna on his ass just because he'd gone and upset his wife.
Len settled for patting her hand. "Just rest. When I have somethin' new to report you'll be the first to know."
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.31, 0910 hours. "Cap'n?"
Jim looked up from the interrupted agenda and over at his Chief Engineer. "Yeah, Scotty?"
"Beggin' yer pardon, Sir, but might ye be able to tell us how the Lieutenants and the Commander are farin'?"
He glanced around at the rest of the concerned faces at the table. Spock, Uhura and McCoy's absences were conspicuous from their daily party. "Last I heard the Doctor said Uhura was resting comfortably while Marks and Spock are still comatose, condition stable but unknown." Another look showed that information to be insufficient but it was all he had—it was all Bones had to give him. "If and when there's more news to be had I'll pass it along but for now that's all I've got." People relaxed somewhat but were still visibly anxious. "Was there something else?"
From the other side of the table Sulu raised his hand. "Sir, any word on whether they'll be up for visitors?"
He tamped down his amusement immediately at the thought of how Bones would react to a whole troop full of visitors invading his sickbay. Considering the consequences and, never one to miss an open invitation to annoy his cantankerous friend, replied, "I'm sure that'll be fine, Sulu. Welcome, even."
A wide smile broke out on Chekov's face and he began yammering on, making grandiose plans with Scotty to boost both patients' spirits.
Oh yeah…seeing Bones' face after this was totally going to be worth whatever he dished back.
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.32, 1230 hours. It never ceased to amaze him how much the kid could put away; being able to move let alone walk after a meal like that should've been illegal. Nonetheless Pavel did just that, wiping the remains of his lunch off his face with his sleeve as the two of them headed toward sickbay. Looking over at him for the first time Chekov noticed he was carrying a bouquet of flowers. "Who are dose for?"
Sulu rolled his eyes at his friend's obliviousness. "They're for Uhura; thought they might cheer her up. Wendy stopped by the lab earlier and told me she hasn't left sickbay since this whole thing happened."
"Vendy, hmm? Don't you mean 'Nurse Mackenzie'?" Chekov waggled his brows suggestively.
Nothing had happened—yet. Not that he didn't want it too, it just hadn't been the right time and then her favorite grandmother on Earth had passed away and she'd just been…well it just wasn't right and simply thinking about it made him punch Pavel in the arm.
"Vhat vas that for?"
"You know. And don't go pullin' that innocent crap on me either. It doesn't work, I'm immune."
The kid continued to smirk. "Uh huh."
Before he could reply the sickbay doors opened; or at least, he thought it was the entrance to sickbay. It seemed like the whole Communications department had descended upon the medical bay, convening at Marks' bedside to try and rouse him back to consciousness with their noise. The two men soon spotted Uhura who looked to have joined her team somewhat reluctantly. She was currently twisting her tongue around a half a dozen languages, having a hand in almost every conversation, but it was clear her full attention was still with Spock on the other side of the room.
They started to approach when McCoy stormed out of his lab, face beet red, and took up position in the middle of the floor. "LISTEN UP! This is a sickbay, not a damn xenolinguistics convention! Either y'all quiet down so the rest of us can get some work done or GET OUT!" The gaggle around Marks' bed paused briefly than took up their conversations again, much to the Doctor's chagrin. With another frustrated growl he gave up and stomped into his office, slamming the door shut behind him. Only after he and his hypos were safely behind closed doors did the duo make their way to Uhura's side.
Sulu smiled as he presented his bouquet. "Hope you're feeling better, Ny."
She took the bunch in her hands and inhaled deeply. "Mmm. Oh Hikaru, these are lovely, thank you." Pavel leaned in and gave her a warm hug. "Thank you both for coming. I know he appreciates it too." A small smile crossed her face as she look to Spock. Making her excuses she led them over to the Commander's bed, watching her visibly relax as she settled the flowers in a vase on his nightstand.
It was the first time they'd seen their First Officer since he'd been brought in and it was a startling sight. Spock lay flat on his back on the bed, the navy blue pajama shirt standing out sharply against the sterile white sheets pulled up tight under his armpits. His breathing was slow but steady and there were no visible bruises—at least, not so far as they could tell. Each time he inhaled the sheets around him pulled taut, giving the impression that he might sit up at any moment and return to his station as if nothing had ever been amiss.
It was what they all wished would happen, at any rate.
But the one sign that really hammered home how serious the situation was was in the normally expressive Commander's hands.
His dexterous fingers spoke volumes where his facial expression and tone could not. They showed excitement and pride as they flew over the science console; sometimes worry, determination and even on occasion a touch of fear whenever an unexpected threat appeared. They displayed his great intelligence and also his humility as he assisted crewmembers with their work no matter their department or rank.
And love…his hands also spoke of his love.
The caresses in public were few and far between but those that worked with him daily—those that counted him as a friend—saw them and knew they were there. There was the brush of his wife's shoulder as he walked past her to the turbolift; the hand on the small of her back guiding her through a crowded reception. Once, Sulu spied them in the hall after the holiday party heading back to their quarters. The couple thought they were alone and engaged in what he could only think to call a 'fingertip kiss'.
He felt like he'd intruded on a very private moment after that and was uncomfortable around the Commander for a week afterward.
Now Spock's hands lay still above the sheets, fingers splayed, idle. That didn't bode well for anyone; not the ship, not it's crew, not the Captain and especially not Uhura.
"He looks good, don't you think?" Chekov asked of no one in particular. "He has good color."
"Perhaps," Uhura demurred.
Sulu moved around to the side of the bed. "Hey Spock." He looked down at his friend's sleeping face, unsure of what to say. "You have to hurry up and wake up, man. It's too quiet on the bridge with you and Uhura gone and we need someone up there to keep the Captain out of trouble. After McCoy you're the only other one on this ship crazy enough to want the job!" Pavel burst out laughing and Nyota hid her grin behind her hand.
"You know," the young Russian said once he started breathing again. "If he vere awake Meester Spock would point out that eet ees illogical to talk to him vhen he is like thees."
"Oh?" he replied with an exaggerated eye roll. Then, grinning at Nyota he deadpanned, "Fascinating."
All three burst out laughing before they could help themselves. In the middle of their fit the door to McCoy's office opened again.
"Ok, that's it, I can hear y'all clucking like a bunch of hens even with the soundproofing on! Everybody out! OUT! That includes you too, Golson! Don't think I don't see you trying to hide back there…!"
USS Enterprise, Stardate 2261.32, 1608 hours. Len was grateful for the last three hours of quiet but they still didn't allow him to get any useful work done; his patients were still comatose and he had no safe way of bringing them around. He was about to head to the Mess for a coffee break when the alarms above Marks' bed sounded and he rushed forward with Chapel and M'Benga hot on his heels. They were about to pull back the curtain back when he stole a quick glance in Spock's direction and saw Nyota staring up at him with hope in her eyes.
He hoped he had good news for her too.
Turning back to Marks, Len watched the Junior Lieutenant blink against the bright lights. Rufus looked startled and struggled up into a sitting position, groaning at the pain in his head. Wordlessly Chapel handed him a hypospray and as it plunged into his neck Rufus smiled in relief. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. Now, mind telling me what happened down there? Whatever you're able to remember might help me help Commander Spock."
"Commander Spock, Sir?"
McCoy's eyebrow twitched upward. "Yes, Commander Spock. We went down to that damn planet two days ago and the Anguillidans took you and Spock and did God-only-knows-what because you've both been in a coma ever since."
"A coma? Wow. Um…I uh…" He looked fearfully over at M'Benga and Chapel before carrying on, "Begging your pardon, Sir, but are you sure I was there? I've never heard of Anguillidans before and I'm hardly ever taken on away missions."
Either the man was obtuse or something was seriously wrong. "You don't remember the eel people?" Marks shook his head. "How can you not remember the eel people?"
The young man cringed. "I'm sorry, Sir, I just don't."
Chapel placed a hand gently on the patient's arm. She definitely possessed the bedside manner people were constantly reminding him he lacked. "Lieutenant, what's the last thing you do remember?"
Rufus concentrated hard. "Uhh…oh, yeah, I was in the lab with Ensign Nyland fixing a broken console. One of the circuits got fried when we put in a new upgrade." Still puzzled he looked back to McCoy, "Are you sure I went planetside? I think I'd remember something like that."
"Lieutenant, I was right…"
"Can you answer just one more question for me please?" Chapel interjected. "What's the current stardate?"
"It's 2261.23."
McCoy's eyes widened. "Oh."
Oh shit. Somehow those creatures mucked about with his brain and in all his tests it never even showed. Where in the hell did they get technology like that? And how could they dothat to another living creature? A whole week of the man's life was now missing for G-d's sake!
Damn ugly slimy buggers…
*adun'a = wife