Kirk stared at the twisted, scorched ruin that had been the corridor outside his quarters. He had once made an impassioned speech to the ruling council of Eminiar about the horrors of war; but even he had never really seen it. Phasers and kill settings that neatly eliminated an enemy had made it tidier somehow. Firing on an opponent across the distances of space had taken away the need to acknowledge the internal damage one could cause.
This was war at its worse, destruction for the sole purpose of annihilation; and Jim was shocked, sickened. Spock paused to run his long sensitive fingers over the bulkhead, studying the deep indentations.
"These were left by concussion weapons," he said, almost to himself, "We have nothing on board that would do this, without tampering."
"What would do it with tampering?" Jim asked.
"Photon grenades for one," Spock replied.
They picked their way over tortured metal and broken glass. One doorway in particular had born the brunt of a blast that had blown it outward. Lying amidst the rubble they could see an unfamiliar pair of boots. They were mottled shades of red and black and gray, charred in places. Jim felt a surge of anger as he looked at what could only be the body of one who had attacked them. He stopped being cautious and bolted forward with grim determination, heedlessly knocking debris out of his way; and when one heavy fallen beam barred him from getting to the door he stepped out of the way and let Spock toss it aside as if it were kindling.
The room was narrow and had once been a storage area. The explosion had pulled the shelving down on top of at least 3 attackers, all wearing the same oddly camouflaged armor, burying them under an avalanche of the metal and ordinary supplies that had once been part of an efficiently run starship. Spock knelt carefully beside the body of one and examined it thoroughly. His face was grim as he read the tricorder.
"They are wearing gragonoth hide," he said. His voice was a Vulcan sandstorm.
Their invaders armor was a one piece body suit, thick and heavy, that rose up into a head covering. Their faces were completely shielded except for eyes slits and a round opening on the neck. Their eyes, at least of the one Spock was examining, were dark and narrow and blank in death. There was no protrusion on the center of a face for a nose. Instead the open space on the neck appeared to be for a hole used to breathe. Even without his tricorder, Spock knew they were unknown in the Federation.
Jim was slumped in the doorway, leaning his shoulder heavily on what remained of the jamb. "That explains how they deflect phasers," he murmured. "But not how they ever get close enough to a gragonoth to use their hide as armor."
"It also explains why our crew seems to have abandoned phasers in favor of explosives," Spock added, he was picking up shiny bits of shrapnel as he spoke, gathering them in his palm.
Jim started to reply, but something lying on the floor towards the back of the room caught his eyes. It was an arm in a red uniform, the hand charred and blackened. He followed the ruined fabric up to the shoulder and higher and found a familiar shock of silver blond hair, the intricate weave disheveled and broken.
"My God," he breathed. Cold horror chilled his voice and Spock rose instantly. Jim had plunged forward into the dim lighting and dangerous debris and Spock went after him.
Kirk flung wreckage off the body until he had at least partially uncovered his beautiful, and far too young, yeoman. The left side of her body was critically wounded. The right side was almost gone. Her right arm and shoulder were missing. The right side of her face was burned down to the bone.
"Janice," Jim choked on the word and almost fell forward. He was aware of Spock's hand on his shoulder being all that kept him upright. "What is she doing in here, with them?"
"Defending her ship," Spock answered, then sharply, "Jim! ….Jim," until the captain finally looked away from his yeoman and into the rock steady gaze of his First Officer. Spock held out his hand to show the pieces of shrapnel, "This used to be a phaser. She must have put at least one on overload, possibly two, and lured them in here after her. A blast of that magnitude in this confined area was certain death."
Jim was pale, even his lips were bloodless. He stared blankly at Spock for a moment.
"She overloaded a phaser," Jim repeated, processing the information and trying to deal with the juxtaposition of his lovely young yeoman - the one who brought him coffee and organized his files and made him lunch in the midst of crisis - understanding the intricate workings of phaser technology. He was looking at Spock as if pleading for answers to this sudden bizarre new world in which they lived. "I know she made me coffee once using a phaser. I always wondered how she got a phaser, since they all have to be checked out through security, and why Tomson didn't skin her alive for having one."
Spock was studying Jim carefully, looking for signs of shock. Years of standing at this man's shoulder had given him a strong sensory awareness of Kirk's moods. Spock's sensitive hearing could pick out the nuances in Kirk's voice. He had always known Kirk was attracted physically to Janice Rand. But this was much different than the way he had reacted to Thomson and her security team. This had struck at the captain's heart.
"She was a very competent member of the crew," he said evenly.
"Do you remember Bailey?" Jim looked down at Janice again, "I promoted him to the helm, with Alpha shift. When he was having a nervous breakdown over Blalok, Janice was making me lunch."
"She would not have been assigned to the Enterprise, and to you, if she was incapable of performing her duties."
Jim considered that. He had always known that Spock had practically hand picked the crew. As his XO that was Spock's job. It had been up to Jim to form them into a cohesive unit, but Spock had given him the very best to work with.
"Thank you," he said, softly. Spock lifted one eyebrow in question and Jim answered, "For her."
Spock found a black emergency blanket in the wreckage and together they covered Rand as well as they could. Kirk was grim and silent as they finished the treacherous route to his cabin. The destruction wasn't so bad in there. The heavy duty doors had protected the room from the worst of it. The utter normalcy of it, the unnerving quiet, froze Jim just inside the door. Spock, without asking permission, slipped into the desk chair and immediately began accessing the computer.
"It's almost completely offline," he said. His brows met in a deep V as he concentrated. "Your logs have been jettisoned."
He shared a knowing look with the captain.
"That explains what Janice was doing on this deck," Jim said, unnecessarily.
Shaking off the melancholy that was clawing at his soul, Jim went to the antique time piece sitting undisturbed on a shelf. He checked it and took a moment to absorb the information. "A little over a day," he said, "According to this we lost a little more than a day being suspended in time." He paused and took a deep breath, "Can you get into the Bridge records?"
"No," Spock had once again given his full attention to his alter ego, the ship's computer. "The system is locked, concentrating on something else, if you will. With considerable time, and the right equipment I may be able to access it again, unless I can discover what it is doing and turn it off." He swung away from the computer terminal to pull Jim in with that steady, calm stare. "Or I might be able to get into it from auxiliary control. If nothing else the back up logs should still be there."
Jim's eyes flashed, "I want to know who did this, Spock. Who were they? How did they get on board?"
Spock hesitated. The questions were not rhetorical. Kirk wanted answers; and at the moment Spock had none. But his long association with humans prepared him well. Kirk needed action in the face of hopelessness in order to keep going.
"I am hesitant to say, but I am working on a hypothesis."
Jim speared him with a look that should have dragged the information from Spock by sheer force of will alone.
"I need more information," Spock said, softly.
Muscles along Jim's jaw and throat rippled and tightened but he nodded. "All right. Where do we get this information?"
"Possibly in auxiliary control, if I can get the Bridge logs to function."
"Then let's go," Jim said, turning to the door as it swished obediently open.
Spock's speed and strength never failed to surprise Jim, not even after all this time. One moment the Vulcan was seated at the desk, and the next moment he was blocking the door. His hand, always shockingly lethal even when Spock was being careful, wrapped around Jim's forearm.
"Stay here," if there could be urgency and pleading in a Vulcan voice then there was in Spock's. "Let me go alone."
Kirk understood. Janice Rand was just the beginning of what awaited them. The rest of their family and friends were still out there somewhere. Spock was far better suited to maintaining the emotional distance that would be needed to survive it. They had both seen starship captains go mad over much less than this.
"I can't, Spock." Sadness and regret were evident in his eyes and voice. "I can't. This is my ship, my crew. If I swore to you right now that I would stay here, would you believe me?"
Spock shook his head. "No," he admitted.
Jim didn't say anything else. But he allowed the frank terror and uncertainty to rest in his gaze for a moment. Spock had melded with his thoughts and emotions and probably knew him better than any man alive. Without words he told his First Officer, I can do this, but only if you're with me.
And without words, Spock understood.