Heart of Darkness
Finished putting another one on the computer. This one takes place about 1 year after the events in The Enterprise Incident. All mistakes are mine, since I don't have a beta reader. Same with the chess games, all mistakes in notation are mine. (Someone has been trying to teach me to play 3 dimensional chess for about 2 years.) Mostly written from my OC, Daphne's, POV since she is how I explore the Star Trek Universe in general, Spock in particular. Also, I run a full time preschool/daycare/before & after program and I just don't have time to break down and post these stories in sections.
The USS Enterprise shuddered and shook like a wet dog. Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott shouted an expletive worthy of a Scotsman as he was spun backwards to hit a bulkhead. The resonation of a massive explosion echoing through the ship hit him like a fist, more emotional than physical. It was an internal blast, the shockwave vibrating its way through the Enterprise and threatening to pull her off course. His engineering crew sprang into action, spurred as much by the automatic red alert as by their training. Accompanied by the frantic blaring of the claxton, they compensated to keep the giant vessel from becoming erratic. The voice shouting at him from the Bridge was Ensign Kyle's, not Kirk's, and Scott ignored it. The Alpha Bridge shift had just ended. Scott himself was supposed to be off duty and was now soul deep grateful that he had remained at his post just a little longer.
As he worked with his team to stabilize Enterprise, he was forced to ask himself a painful question. Why hadn't Kirk tried to contact him yet? Just what exactly had violently exploded? Where was Spock?
The only voice he heard that gave him some small sense of peace was McCoy's, demanding to know what the hell had happened. Scott had not been able to tell the doctor anything, just to prepare for casualties.
Once the ship was under control, Scott shouted for the red alert to shut off and set to pinpointing the source of the explosion. Horrified, he saw that the explosion was centered in the area around the Officer's Mess, right where the entire senior Bridge Staff – Kirk, Spock, Uhura, Chekhov, Sulu, all of them – usually gathered to eat when their shift ended.
The ride in the turbolift to the Officer's Mess deck was endless. The doors swished open to chaos. The corridor in front of the Mess was littered with debris being cleared by the emergency response teams and highly motivated medics. They made their way one hunk of wreckage at time to the inside of the demolished Mess.
"Oh my God," Scott heard Christine Chapel whisper in frozen shock. When he saw the destruction inside he understood why.
It was a vision of Hell for anyone who lived on board a starship. The blast had occurred near the door and radiated outward. The room was all but destroyed.
"Concentrate on the living!" McCoy shouted.
Nothing in any of their training or experience had prepared them for this mayhem and carnage. McCoy choked down his own private distress – god in heaven half the people he loved in all the world were in this room! – and concentrated on what he had to do.
The medics and guards scrambled over wreckage looking for missing crewmen. McCoy found the Captain, his clothing covered with blood and as torn as the body within them, beneath the shattered twisted metal remains of a table. Beside him, McCoy could see the top of Chekhov's head, his dark hair matted in blood. Chekhov was moving, trying to struggle and claw his way out of the wreckage. McCoy ordered him to lie still, loudly. He doubted anyone in this room could hear at the moment. Ensign Monroe and Lt. Michaels lay near Chekhov. McCoy knew without checking that they were gone and there was nothing he could do for them. Two medics grimly set to work trying to free Chekhov, while two more lifted their Captain with tender reverence onto a floating stretcher and steered him gently out of the room.
Sulu was also conscious, flung far across the room against the wall farthest from the blast, but he was lying prone, moaning and in shock. Uhura lay beside him, bleeding from a dozen places that could be seen. Crewmen were already surrounding them, testing to see if they could be moved safely.
Spock was easiest to find. The emergency response team was on him in seconds of entering the room. Splatters of liquid green painted the wall beneath the food processors, which were now nothing but twisted metal and flaming wires. The Vulcan was curled in a fetal position; malachite blood was running from dozens of cuts and gashes along his back, shoulders and arms. His uniform was scorched in places. The black hair on the back of his head was matted with blood.
Then they heard a small moan and realized that Spock was wrapped around Daphne so tightly she could barely be seen. But now one of the medics noticed a long, thick strand of hair snaking out from below Spock's jaw, hair that should be bright gold but was now an odd shade of brown as her blood mingled with Spock's. After several frustrating moments of gently wrestling with and shouting at the First Officer, they finally shouted for McCoy. The CMO staggered through dust and wreckage to get to them.
"It's Commander Spock, sir," the medic explained, "We can't get him to let go of Lt. Caras so we can move them both."
McCoy's heart clenched and he ground his teeth. He knelt in the blood and metal, broken glass and splattered food and leaned close to Spock's ear. If anyone's hearing had been adversely affected by the blast, it would have been his.
"SPOCK!" he shouted, "It's McCoy! Let go of Daphne so I can see her."
The response was instant. Spock relaxed so completely McCoy thought he had lost consciousness. McCoy's heart lodged somewhere near his throat and his composure almost failed him. Spock had just surrendered to him one of the people he held most dear in the Universe, without a qualm, with utter trust. While he tended to Spock, Scott joined them and slowly extracted Daphne from the sheltered cocoon he had created. She had one long gash from her temple to her cheek but seemed the most unscathed of all of them. As he lifted her up, she groaned and opened her eyes.
"Spock," she murmured, "Jim."
"Hush, lass," Scotty said, "McCoy has them."
Daphne blinked at him in confusion and Scotty realized she couldn't hear him. Cradling her in his arms he turned her just enough so that she could see Spock and McCoy. She sagged against him and closed her eyes again.
Every hand they could squeeze into the damaged area was put to work removing the injured and the dead. By some miracle they had only lost two of the ten people that had gathered for dinner after the end of Alpha shift. The rest were all on their way to sickbay.
Scotty watched the procession of stretchers making its way to sickbay with a sense of helplessness. He couldn't do anything about the human casualties. But he could start the clean up, and the investigation into what had so badly damaged his beloved Enterprise.