"Mister Spock," Uhura greeted, as the first officer entered the bridge, "we're picking up a distress signal from an unknown ship."
"Point of origin?" Spock asked, seating himself in the captain's chair and relieving Sulu from his post. He hadn't selpt in over 48 hours, Uhura guessed, and although an outsider wouldn't have detected anything in Spock's appearance that suggested that, she knew him well enough to notice. She could see dark rings under his eyes, some misplaced strands of hair, and the body language of a person who was cold and tired.
"Two point seven, mark five. Exactly one point zero one lightyears away from us," Chekov replied.
"Have you detected a ship in that area before?" Spock asked, accepting the cup of coffee the yeoman offered him. It was a gesture that somewhat alarmed Uhura, Spock never drank coffee.
"No, sir. We came close to that area two hours ago. We detected nothing, although we are constantly scanning. It seems also, we're the only ship able to answer the call."
"Set in a course to meet the origin of the distress call, warp factor 8, Mr Sulu," Spock said, then turned to Uhura. "Do you recognise the signal, Lieutenant?"
"No, sir. It is an automated message that repeats: To any ship in the vicinity, We are in need of assistance. Audio only, the voice is computer generated, speaking Standard, Romulan, and Klingonese."
Spock nodded, then turned to the helm again. "Mr Chekov, what do the scanners tell us about the ship?"
"Not much, sir. It is very small, just a little bigger than one of our shuttles, its signature is unknown to our databases."
"Sir, according to our scanners, the ship is perfectly intact and moving at impulse speed, away from us," Sulu reported. For him, all of this smelled of a trap.
"There is nothing in the ship's vicinity that could have caused problems, Mr Spock. Just normal space," Chekov said, in silent agreement with Sulu.
Just a few hours before, early this morning, Uhura had patched through a message from the Columbia. They'd found the Trill merchant ship Tamulok had hijacked, drifting many lightyears away from the point of where Uhura had last pinpointed it. It had seemed to be deserted. When they'd pulled it into their hangar for inspection, it had exploded and ripped a hole into the hull. The casualty number so far was somewhere into the 90s, and Captain Lesley had asked for assistance from every ship in the area. The Enterprise had been too far away to answer the call, but they'd all heard the captain's plea for help and seen her shocked features on the screen.
Starfleet Command wanted Velal now more than ever. They were eager to question her, knowing that Tamulok's ship and every hope of finding him soon was gone, and the number of Federation citizens' deaths that went on his account had become triple-digit.
"We don't know the nature of the emergency. According to Starfleet regulations we are obliged to investigate. However, I do intend we be cautious, if that's what you've meant to suggest by your statements," Spock replied, already contemplating on when to inform the captain about their change of course and the incident on the Columbia. Spock himself had kept up with the events through his PADD and had decided that it was unneccessary to wake up the captain and the doctor to notify them about the incident on the Columbia.
"Aye, sir," Sulu mumbled under his breath. Of course he had meant to suggest that, although he knew Spock was always cautious. "Course is set in, sir. Our ETA is in one point zero two hours."
o0o
"Looks good, Captain," Dr Taylor said a little self-consciously, after having examined Kirk. It was no thanks to him that his captain was able to follow his instructions so he could test his reflexes and brain functions, he knew that. Dr McCoy had done all the medical magic. It wasn't that he was envious, he was only a bit ashamed.
When he'd seen Spock half carry, half drag a trembling McCoy into sickbay the day before, all hope that the chief surgeon might be able to save the captain had vanished. He'd never seen his boss like that, his uniform grimy and in tatters, his skin grey and clammy underneath. His eyes had looked comprehending and interested one moment, then haunted and lost in a swirling nightmare, the next.
Other than dehydration and exhaustion, he hadn't diagnosed anything physically wrong with him. When McCoy had refused to let go of Spock's hand and arm for long enough to get him out of the remains of his uniform, Taylor had even feared McCoy also might be too far gone to save.
Chapel had taken over then. How she had managed to muster that reassuring smile, he had no idea. But she'd just stated that they'd simply cut the thing off of him then, and had proceeded doing so. She'd kept talking the whole time, about her hair. As a blond, she was often underestimated, but attracted more flirts, she'd informed them, whereas as a brunette, people tended to be less flirtatious, but acting more professional towards her. By the time she'd told her boss that she planned to go to med school again and get a medical degree as a doctor after the end of their five year mission, McCoy had recovered enough to smile back at her shakily, take the offered new shirt and put it on, before reaching for the Vulcan's hand again.
Not knowing what else to do, Taylor had just given McCoy fluids, vitamins, glucose, and a mild sedative that made McCoy slump forward into Spock's shoulder. He'd hoped the CMO would be more stable when he woke up, but seeing him tremble even in his drug induced sleep, he'd honestly doubted that, although Christine had assured him everything was going to be fine. Well, she seemed to have been right. He hadn't seen McCoy today, but didn't doubt Kirk who was sitting somewhat impatiently on the bio-bed before him, that he was fine, just a bit tetchy.
"So, when can I get back on duty, Doc?" Kirk asked, trying to look as happy, rested and healthy as he could.
"I'd say in another two or three days, Captain," Taylor answered, "but I want Dr McCoy to be the judge of that."
Kirk nodded, and started to ask Taylor if he knew where Bones was, when he felt a sudden change in the vibrations and the sound of the engines' constant humming. They'd changed course and had increased their speed, he could tell.
o0o
"Did you sleep in your clothes?" Velal asked McCoy when Osborne had left them alone.
McCoy looked down at his rumpled outfit. He hadn't had the time to change, or take a shower for that matter. "Yes," he admitted and nodded towards Velal, "You?"
"I don't sleep," she whispered, stepping even closer to the force field. Her breath caused the shield to slightly hiss and sparkle where it touched. It was as if she was exhaling electricity.
"Velal," he started, not quite sure how he was going to be able to help, "you wanted to talk to me."
"That was a pretext to get you into the same room with me," she said, still whispering. He could see the droplets of sweat beading the curve above her upper lip. "I need to mate."
He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "So, it is true. Romulan females get Pon Farr."
She let out a furious scream, and kicked at the violently flashing force field again. "Pon Farr! It is a clinical word only passionless, bloodless Vulcans use! They fear it, think it is some kind of disease!"
"How would you describe it?" McCoy asked, and winced slightly, knowing that her nerve endings would soon start protesting painfully because they were being repeatedly subjected to the energy field. Maybe Velal was too far gone to notice, though.
She breathed heavily, then sank down on her knees in front of him. He followed her, until they both sat on the floor.
"It's our nature. We are hot, passionate, even violent in everything we do. And very much so, in love."
He could see his reflection in her eyes, McCoy realized. "But you always seem so self-controlled," he said quietly, suddenly genuinely interested in their conversation.
Her lips curved in a smile. "Practise, Leonard. Even we need to learn how to control our passions, or there'd be chaos."
He nodded thoughtfully. The Romulan Star Empire was a great power in the quadrant. It would be impossible to control such a huge territory if the emperors were rash, unrestrained anarchists.
"The time of our mating cycle reminds us of who we are, of what is important, of how it should be."
She was edging closer again, starting once more to breathe on the force field. The sparks that followed, touched his hair, and he drew back, startled. He hadn't realized he'd edged so close to her.
"I'm not sure, if this is how life should be, Velal," he said, "as far as I can tell, your passion is about to kill you."
"Only, if you won't mate with me," she said, and for a moment there, she was reasoning like a Vulcan again.
McCoy let out a snort. Right. He'd only have to have sex with that green blooded, predatory cat behind the force field, while Osborne was waiting outside.
"Why me?" he asked cooly enough, but in those two words many questions resonated. Is it just because I'm a doctor, and as such obliged to do everything I can to not let you die? Did I give you a signal that makes you think I'm interested? Do you find me attractive? Do you think I'm the easiest target? What are your real intentions?
"I find you attractive, Leonard," she said defiantly. And when he didn't react to that, she went on: "I told you already, I envy your humanity."
Still no reaction.
She screeched through her nose and ran a hand through her hair, pulling at it, leaving it in a wild disarray. Her eyes seemed to have darkened in colour when she ground out through clenched teeth: "Your emotions are so close to the surface, yet, you hide so much more in the depths of your soul. You'd abash any Romulan about the amount of self-control coupled with the intensity of emotion."
McCoy chuckled to himself, and got up from the floor. "Right. You know, Velal, I don't intend to give in to your courting, but maybe there's another way to help you. I'll have to confer with some people." He turned, and started for the door.
Her eyes widened in panic, and she threw herself at the force field. "No!" she screamed at his back. He turned, a little concerned because of the intensity of her reaction. "I've got to tell you something! There's more!"
"What?" He took a step towards her again.
"My bond mate," she started, and McCoy could tell, it took all of her energy to stand still in front of him. She really thought this was important.
"On Romulus?" he coaxed, smiling a little, trying to calm her.
"Tamulok," she hissed. McCoy's eyebrows shot up at that. Tamulok was her bond mate? She thought he was a danger to the Empire and wanted him eliminated. However, no wonder she hadn't been able to simply shoot him herself when she'd had the chance.
"What about him?" he asked.
"He'll sense me. And he'll find me."
McCoy smiled. "Good. That'll save us the hassle of trying to find him."
"You've got no idea," she moaned, and hugged herself doubling over, as if in pain.
"You alright?" he asked, concerned, bending his knees to try to catch her eyes.
"NO!" she shouted at him. And he mentally kicked himself for asking such a stupid question.
"Maybe there's something I can give you, to calm you a little," he said, straightening
"Yes!" she met his eyes, hopefully.
"Well, I mean, other than …," he bit the inside of his lip, "What about … some music? It could prove to have a calming effect."
"There's no use!" she protested, starting to pace.
McCoy programmed the computer to play some classical music anyway. If it didn't calm her, then at least it would calm Osborne.
He also dimmed the lights. "Are you creating a romantic atmosphere?" Velal asked sweetly, when his eyes found hers one last time.
He smiled at her joke. "Don't taunt Osborne. I'll be back!" he turned again to leave.
"Wait!" she said, more controlled than before.
"What is it now?" he asked, just a little unnerved.
"That music! It's beautiful."
McCoy shook his head. She was trying to seduce him, he could tell. "It's Mozart," he said, shrugging, not quite sure what he was still doing here.
"Yes. The 40th symphony in G-minor," she nodded, stepping close to the force field again.
He felt his mental barriers completely drop for just the fraction of a second as he was reminded of Gemma and that night on his parents' front porch, for the second time today. What if he'd come together with her then? His life could have taken a whole different direction.
He saw Velal, who was standing behind the invisible force field, a gentle smile curving her lips, when suddenly the room went completely dark, Mozart's symphony abruptly stopped playing, and that invisible force field disappeared with an electric thrum.
He started to feel cold, as his mind provided him with an explanation: Total power failure. If the force fields in the brig had lost power, it was most likely that life support had also. And that meant they'd soon run out of air, or freeze to death.
Then, a hot hand on the side of his face made him sweat.