Gardens in the Rain, chapter 8

Carrying his tray, Spock followed Nyota to the table and seated himself across from Kirk. The admiral's face was shadowed with fatigue, and he knew that if he turned toward Nyota he would see similar lines of strain around her eyes. Both humans seemed to think that they could continue indefinitely, relying on willpower boosted with a hearty dose of caffeine, but Spock had finally convinced them that they must at least break for a meal if they wished to work effectively into the night.

Obviously still uncomfortable after the events of last night, Nyota gave him a vague smile and attacked her salad with vigor. "I didn't realize how hungry I was. Thank you for talking us into this, Spock."

"Thanks are not necessary. I wished to dine as well, and I thought that this would be an opportune time to absent ourselves from the bridge. Mr. Scott is quite capable of keeping matters in hand."

Kirk reached for his beverage. "I can't get over how unbelievably frustrating this has been. Nine hours for the spy to pick up our first decoy, and now another four hours and no sign that he's picked up the second. I hope we don't have to wait much longer."

Nyota grimaced. "Well, I'm not getting my hopes up. The fact that the first message was transmitted so close to 1700 hours makes me wonder if our person might have just been leaving for beta shift. If that's the case, we might have to wait until 0100 hours or later for him to get off."

"That is actually a very feasible scenario," Spock said. "You should ensure you take advantage of this break so that you can pace yourself—"

Kirk's communicator beeped, and they all straightened. Looking to his left, Spock exchanged a quick glance with Nyota. She held her napkin in mid-air, gripping it tightly, and he could not prevent his own heart rate from increasing.

"Kirk here."

Mr. Scott's voice rang out over the communicator. "We have a fix, Admiral! Deck six, section five. Quarters of Crewman Doris French. Security is on the way."

Kirk was already on his feet. "Meet us there, Scotty! Kirk out."

Dropping his fork, Spock pushed away from the table, and the three of them ran out of the cafeteria. A startled crewmember jumped out of the way, pressing herself against the wall as they dashed toward the turbolift. Kirk slapped his hand against the call button.

"Computer! Override current requests for turbolift six, priority one!"

The door opened a moment later, and once inside, Kirk yelled, "Deck six!" Looking at Spock, he said, "Doris French. The name's familiar, but I can't place her."

"She came on board approximately nine weeks ago." Spock raised an eyebrow. "She works in recycling services."

Nyota's eyes grew big. "With Ensign Gato? Do you think we have a conspiracy?"

"Such a conclusion is premature. While I doubt that this is a mere coincidence, it is possible that she gained access to his password and is using it without his approval."

The turbolift door opened to reveal Scott and Lieutenant Kovarik waiting in the corridor. Scott held an assortment of tools and a tricorder, and Kovarik towered over him, intimidating in full security gear.

Falling into step with Kirk, Scott said, "The other guard is already at her door. We tried verra hard to be quiet, so I doubt she knows we're on to her."

As they approached Crewman French's quarters, Spock saw that Scott had already opened the access panel to her door. Kovarik quickly assumed his position, flattened against the wall to the left side of her door, and motioned at the other guard, Lee, to do the same on the right. Both men had their phasers in ready position.

Visibly tense and excited, Kirk moved behind Kovarik and met Spock's eyes, then turned toward Scott and nodded.

The door slid open.

Seated at a small table directly in front of the door, Crewman French looked up with panic on her face, then frantically grabbed a small device.

Kovarik shouted, "Drop it!"

She jumped out of her chair so quickly that it toppled over behind her. The small device in her hand emitted a short whine, and before anyone could react, she pulled a phaser from seemingly out of nowhere and fired, all in one smooth motion. Spock fell to the floor, pulling Uhura with him, and Kirk ducked out of the way as her phaser fire hit the other guard then lanced across the wall behind them. Smoke and the nauseating scent of scorched insulation filled the air. Kovarik dropped to his knees and fired, catching her square in the chest, and she lurched back across the chair and lay still.

Kovarik stepped over the other guard and dashed into her quarters, but she did not move. Everything was still and silent. Smoke drifted through the hallway. Spock knelt by the unconscious guard, intending to check his pulse, when his ears detected a very faint sound.

He looked up sharply. "Admiral, I hear a rhythmic beeping. She might have armed some sort of timed device."

Kirk ran into her quarters and looked around, obviously unable to hear it, but Spock walked unerringly to the far wall of her quarters. A small box, mounted to the bulkhead, beeped and flashed in unison.

Kirk called, "Scotty! Come here!"

Holding his tricorder, Scott rushed up and scanned it. "Admiral, it's a bomb, and the main structural support for this section is directly behind the bulkhead. She knew exactly where to place it."

Spock picked up the small device from French's limp fingers and examined the controls. Speaking tersely to Scott, he said, "If I cannot disarm it, we must remove that box from the wall."

Scott reached for his tools. "Aye. You try to turn the damned thing off, and I'll work on removing it."

Kirk yelled over his shoulder. "Uhura! Call the bridge and tell them to seal off section five!"

Already standing at the intercom across the hall, she said, "I'm trying, sir, but she disabled communications. I should be able to patch directly into the ship's computer."

"Do it."

As Uhura pried the cover off, Kirk grabbed Kovarik's arm. "Evacuate this corridor and seal it off. Go to the bridge if you have to. Take French with you. We need her."

Spock discarded the small controller as Kovarik hefted French over his shoulder and left. Moving over to help Scott, he said, "Admiral, I cannot disarm it. We have three minutes and twenty-one seconds until detonation. I doubt that Kovarik will make it to the bridge in time to seal this area."

"Damn. If Uhura can get through to the transporter room, maybe we can beam it out into space."

"Admiral," said Scott, "it's unlikely they could get a fix on something this small so quickly. Our best hope is to throw it out the airlock."

"Do it, then!" Kirk began dragging the unconscious security guard down the hall. Spock, standing by Scott's shoulder, heard him call out, "Uhura! Any luck?"

"Not yet!"

Scott frantically tried to loosen the magnetic bolts. "It's no use, Mr. Spock. These won't budge."

Spock's internal clock counted the time. Two minutes and four seconds until detonation. He dropped the magnetic screwdriver and looked around for a lever.

Kirk's heavy footsteps pounded back in their direction. "Uhura?"

"Getting there."

Spock wrenched the arm off the chair and jammed it into the tiny gap between the box and the wall. Addressing Kirk over his shoulder, he said, "Admiral! Take Uhura and Scott, and evacuate the corridor!"

Kirk wrapped his fingers around the strip of metal and tugged with Spock. "No! I can help you with this!"

One minute and eight seconds.

Spock abandoned the lever and pushed Scott out of the way, then worked his fingers into the gap. It was a minuscule amount wider than seconds ago. Kirk continued to grapple with the lever as Scott ran out to assist Uhura.

Forty-two seconds.

The muscles in his arms aching, the sharp edges of the metal biting into his fingers, Spock rocked the small box with all his strength. It had definitely begun to give.

"Twenty-nine seconds, Admiral."

"Uhura!" Kirk called out breathlessly. "If you don't have it in another nineteen seconds, run for cover!"

"I can get this!" A desperate edge had crept into her voice. "I know I can. We have to seal this section!"

Using his weight, Spock pulled back on the box, but his fingers were too slick and he lost his grip. He stumbled backwards against the fallen chair. Wiping his bloody fingers on his pants, he shouted, "Fifteen seconds!"

Kirk's face was red with exertion as he strained to push the lever farther behind the box. "Keep... trying..."

Spock took a deep breath and grabbed the box again. His hands were stiff and bruised, and at first he was not certain he could flex them enough to find purchase, but somehow he forced his fingers securely around the sharp edges.

Spock called out, "Ten... nine..."

Kirk shouted, "Scotty! Uhura! Run!"

"Eight... seven..."

"I have it, Admiral!" Uhura's voice was triumphant. "Computer, seal deck six, section five!"

"Six... five..."

With a grating screech, the box tore away from the wall. Both Kirk and Spock fell to the floor, but Spock quickly snatched it up and ran through the door. From the corner of his vision, he saw Uhura yelling into the intercom, but he did not spare any attention for her words. All he knew was that he had to get the bomb into the pressure vent disposal.

His concentration was so finely honed that everything seemed as if it were happening in slow motion, as if he were looking through a tunnel and moving in a thick substance. He rushed to the wall. He yanked the small door open and shoved the box through. He slapped the "dispose" button then threw himself in the opposite direction. As his eyes raked across the corridor, he saw Uhura nod at Scott and step away from the intercom...

Suddenly, an enormously loud noise shook the air, and dozens of sharp pinpricks stabbed into his back, stinging him like a swarm of bees. He felt his feet leave the floor, and before he could get his hands fully in front of him, a hard surface impacted with his forehead. Debris rained down all around him.

Everything was quiet once again.

He lay with his face against the cool floor for a long moment, trying to regain his bearings. The air was so thick with smoke that he could hardly breathe, but gradually he realized that he was not in the vacuum of space. The bomb had evidently inflicted some damage, but the structure of the ship had held. He was alive. The others were alive, too, because they began to cough and choke.

Raising himself slowly, he looked around through burning eyes. Kirk was right in front of him, stretched out on his back, but as Spock watched, he drew his leg up and brought his hands to his face. Spock pushed himself to his feet and swayed unsteadily.

Their figures were unclear through the smoke, but Spock saw Scott and Uhura sprawled out on the other side of the corridor. Scott groaned and rolled onto his back, but Uhura was motionless.

She did not move.

Her eyes were closed, she was on her back, and she was utterly still.

Coughing, Spock rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand as he stumbled through the smoke. Small bits of metal and glass crunched under his boots. He knelt and looked closely at her face.

Her expression was peaceful as a tiny stream of crimson trickled from her brow, ran across her right eye, and dripped onto the floor by her ear. The cut was minute, like a delicate little incision on her forehead. She did not move. As still as death, she did not move. His blood flowed like ice water as he reached a tentative hand toward her neck.

Her skin was warm against his cold fingers, and he closed his eyes when he felt the weak, thready pulse.

Scott came to his knees and crawled to her other side. "Is she...?"

Not answering, Spock gently ran his fingers behind her head, but when he pulled them away, the only blood he saw was his own.

As if from a great distance, Spock heard Kirk's voice. "Kirk to bridge. Send a team to deck six to check for structural damage. Also, we require medical assistance. Commander Uhura is down."

Kneeling next to Scotty, Kirk murmured, "Maybe it was just the force of the blast. We all hit the floor pretty hard. I can tell that you're going to have a nasty bruise."

Spock absently lifted his hand to his forehead and glanced up at Kirk.

Worry evident on his features, Kirk said, "McCoy was already on his way. He'll be here soon."

Spock nodded and dropped his hand, allowing his fingertips to barely brush her torso. He did so from the illogical need to touch her, to reassure himself with the gentle movement of her respiration, but what he found caused his eyes to widen in alarm. Her uniform was wet. Soaked. With blood.

Inhaling sharply, he pulled open her jacket and had to steady himself at the sight. A large, jagged piece of shrapnel protruded from her midsection, and a huge red stain spread from the center of her white shirt.

Scott whispered, "Oh my God, Nyota. I didna know, lass... Your red jacket... I didna know."

Suddenly, Spock felt himself being shoved to the side, and he realized belatedly that McCoy had done it. The doctor cursed as he held his scanner over Uhura's still body, then shouted at the people who were running through the corridor in their direction.

"Smithson! Uhura has a foreign object embedded in her torso, directly beneath her ribcage on the right upper quadrant of her abdomen. Severe laceration of the liver and other internal injuries. Blood pressure dangerously low and dropping. We need to get her to sickbay immediately, but we have to extract the object before we can move her!"

The moment Smithson dropped to her knees, McCoy smoothly pulled out the ugly piece of metal and tossed it on the floor. The flow of blood increased, but Smithson pressed a handful of steri-gauze against the wound as they lifted Uhura onto the antigrav stretcher.

Spock stood, helpless, speechless, and watched as they carried her away.

Kirk moved close. "Spock, I need you here right now," he said softly. "Can you help me?"

Spock looked down. The bloodstained piece of metal lay on the floor by his feet. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

"Of course, Admiral."

Kirk nodded back, and together they turned toward the gaping hole that was once the cover of the pressure vent disposal.

End chapter 8