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Technical Difficulties
Chapter 10: Of Engines and Excitement
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Reclining as he was in the temporary seat of command in the center of the bridge, First Officer Spock would never admit to feeling anything at all. He was in control of the ship, he was in control of the officers, and so he must be in control of himself; it was pure logic. Another thing Spock would never admit to, sitting in the Enterprise command chair, was for him to not be acting entirely logically.
Spock shifted slightly in his chair.
He certainly did not feel uncomfortable.
Of course not.
Even if this was Jim's chair. Even if Spock should not be sitting in it, and that he should be across the room at his own station, taking scientific readings of the surrounding areas and classifying new star systems. Even though Jim should be sitting here.
Even if the flat, smooth surface of the chair was already blazing with his Vulcan heat.
Even if Spock could feel Jim's stress and adrenaline pounding through his mind incessantly, like a thousand jagged, rusty nails, clipping through his mental barriers.
Even if, when Spock closed his eyes, he saw a blond Irishman take aim right towards Jim's chest, inches away. And fire rapidly as Jim flung himself out of the way.
He could see flashes of what was happening down on the Sealion as clearly as Jim could, and he tried desperately to block it out. But it wasn't working. Spock slowly brought his right hand up to his face as his back curved over, and his fingers curled into the Vulcan mind meld.
"Commander, ze Sealion eez pullink awt uff our sensor range."
The comment snapped Spock's back ramrod straight, and his arm slapped back at his side. "Thank you, Lieutenant Chekhov. Our position, Lieutenant Sulu."
"Still on course at Mark 4, sir. Still another hour until we reach the Mars II Space Station at current speed."
"And with the position and speed of the Sealion, when will it reach orbit?" Spock could have easily calculated the answer himself, on a normal basis, but he was away from his usual devices in order to get the necessary information to put into the necessary equations. That, and he had a pounding headache for some reason. He leaned back in the chair and subtly massaged his temple.
After Sulu clicked a few buttons, he responded, "Approximately fifteen minutes, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant Sulu."
Stopping his fingers from circling his temple, Spock's eyes drifted closed.
He saw what Jim saw, he felt what Jim felt.
(Shit, he got me, clipped my shoulder, the good one, damn – )
There was blinding pain in his right arm, and he was desperately grasping at the bleeding gash through his Starfleet blacks.
(Bastard, I'll get him this time, when he comes around the corner – )
Spock saw shadows lurking through the aisle of a storage facility, his back was against a broad bulkhead and he was completely concealed in darkness. He heard a noise.
(Crouch, dammit, crouch – )
Jim slunk against the ground, smoothly and predatorily, despite his injuries.
Finnegan confidently strode down the aisle, gun cocked. Jim could see him from here, through the gaps and spaces in the blocks of storage units. Suddenly, Finnegan called out, trying to start up banter. He started talking about all of the different vital points of the human body, listing them off one by one. Slowly.
Jim usually loved battle banter. At the moment, it sent waves of uncontrollable hatred through him, and he ground his teeth to bite back a scathing reply and a death threat or two. Now was the time to be silent.
(Quiet, must be quiet. Silent as the soft breeze before a storm… Quiet as the falling snow… Spock.)
"Now, Jimmy boy, which place would you like t' be shot t' death? So many options, hmmm?" The Irishman snickered, almost uncontrollably, hysterically, and his arm shook. His smile stretched over his face, twisting his features into something demented and demonic.
(Spock…)
Jim's roiling emotions quieted for the moment as he softly spoke the name. Finnegan was coming closer.
(I am here, Jim.
I need you to know.
I already know.
I know. But I'm specially telling you this anyway.
Proceed.)
Jim knew that talking, even his slight whispering, was allowing Finnegan another chance to track him down, but this really, really needed to be said. Right now.
(Then you must say it, Jim.
I – )
"Commander Spock, Chief Officer Montgomery Scott contacting the bridge."
Spock's eyes snapped open.
He would never admit to being disoriented, especially in the command chair.
"He's sending the status of the engines over the Science comm, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant Uhura." Spock stood and briskly strode over to his regular station after a moment of silence.
Jim was hiding under a large bulkhead, dripping blood, still waiting, still silent.
The engines were still currently unable to operate at their full capacity, the repairs taken during Earth's orbit had only gotten about halfway done, though most of the work was being undone at the moment through overstimulation. Spock estimated another ten minutes before the Enterprise completely stalled under these same conditions.
Finnegan was still pacing around the storage room, gun cocked; Jim had lost sight of him, but he could hear his footsteps.
Straightening, Spock contacted Engineering.
"Chief Engineer Scott."
He responded instantly. "Aye, sir."
"By my calculations, the Enterprise has enough resources for only ten more minutes of space travel at all."
"Aye, sir."
By Spock's admittedly poor emotive detector, Lieutenant Commander Scott's readout was at an alarmingly cheerful rate.
Jim was on the move, changing to a different location, swinging stealthily to another aisle in an attempt to find Finnegan's location and to better conceal himself. It hurt like hell. It admittedly did nothing to improve the mood of Commander Spock.
"Lieutenant Commander."
"Aye, sir?"
"As I am partially familiar as to the emotive nuances of yourself and other crewmembers, and as my logic dictates to me, this period in time is relatively stressful and serious for the human mind. However, your tone indicates that your mood does not adhere to this particular mindset. Would you care to elaborate?"
Scott took a moment to laugh loudly over the speaker. Most crewmembers on the bridge turned around to look.
Jim caught a glimpse of Finnegan's blond hair.
"Aye, Mister Spock. Ah was thinkin' about mah options fer fixin' th' Silver Lady, an' Ah found tha' there wasn't exactly an option frum Starfleet perspective, say."
"Extrapolate."
"Well, sir, Ah believe Ah may 'ave found th' solution."
Spock's hairs raised on the back of his neck, his shoulders tensed, and his back stiffened even more than usual, if that was even possible. Everyone on the bridge moved like they were set in wet, slow concrete.
Jim stopped.
"What is your solution, Lieutenant Commander?"
"Weeeell, Ah dunno if it's going t' work, naew, Mister Spock. Ah've just got t' check n' make sure tha' it can connect properly…" Scotty whistled as he wrestled with machinery, the wires buzzing and the metal clanking over the communication. Wires? Spock furrowed his brow. Starfleet hadn't created anything with wires for over twenty years. Jim echoed his confusion.
"Commander Spock, Ah have this idea, that Ah could connect th' warp drive with this little wee project tha' Ah've been workin' on. 'Twould act as both the antimatter inducer an' th' antimatter injector, as well as the deuterium injector. All uv these at th' moment are offline with no chance of recovery, sir."
Spock sat down at his own station. "Send me the data on this project of yours, Lieutenant Commander."
"Aye sir." A few seconds later, Scotty's files on the Heart project popped up on Spock's screen. He flipped through them like lightning.
The basic idea of the Heart as an antimatter inducer, an antimatter injector, and a deuterium injector was surprisingly simple. The Heart itself was designed with alarming efficiency, with a serving of Scotty's inventive touch. A human heart had four chambers while this Heart had six, built in a spiral-columnar fashion, resembling the DNA strand or a spiral staircase. The wires Scotty had decided to use in a flash of genius were used as if they were arteries and veins, flowing throughout the contraption. When activated, the Heart would pump its contents through itself by contracting one section at a time, with each section gaining more and more energy for each section until all the energy was explosively released into the outgoing tubule. The timing of the bursts of energy could be maintained by a device Scotty had created resembling a pacemaker, and the activation of the contraption was easily achieved through the practical application of electric power, easily achieved by a T-3 Energy Converter.
The method Scotty was planning on using to fix the warp drive was genius. By fixing up to Heart to the antimatter containment and the deuterium cartridge, the Heart would channel both the antimatter and the deuterium into the warp core, through the dilithium crystals, simultaneously. It was unheard of for both of the substances to travel to this destination together; in classic Starfleet texts, as well as every starship in action, there were separate machinations for these two functions. The concentrations of both of the substances were distributed properly by the magnetic pull Scotty had thought up, as well as his idea to specially treat the antimatter to separate before use for the deuterium to diffuse thoroughly. Therefore, according to theory, the chemical reaction in the warp core would function as normal, but with a more efficient method of causing it.
"Lieutenant Commander, this idea is highly original and efficient." That was the highest praise, coming from Spock.
"Thankee kindly, sir, but this is jus' a copy of the wee Slistas' heart, then."
"Understood. In any case, this machine is quite impressive."
"Aye. She's beautiful."
"However, there is a great risk in utilizing this machine without methodical experimentation and figuring the power relays to match those of the ship's engines. There is the high probability of 4,543,332.335 to 1 that you will not choose the proper outset, and the engines could easily become overloaded. There is also the problem of power fluctuation unknown which is inherent in the design of the machine as a heart."
"Aye, sir, those're all great points." Scotty still sounded as dapper as a Scottish terrier in the springtime rounding up sheep.
Jim was trying really hard not to laugh, which made Spock's lip twitch upwards in an unwilling grin. He buried himself in his station so no one would see.
(Give Scotty the go-ahead, then, Spock.)
"Well, then, Lieutenant Commander, you may attempt your experiment with Project Heart. For the moment, work on connecting the Heart to the necessary consoles. When you have successfully installed the Heart, contact the bridge again. Update regularly at every stage of the operation."
"Aye, sir."
Spock ended the transmission.
(You are amused at the Lieutenant Commander's behavior.
Indeed I am.
Most illogical.
Nothing but.)
Jim was trying not to laugh again. It seemed to be a natural phenomenon that Spock always had the impulse to laugh with him.
Finished temporarily with Engineering reports, Spock returned to the Captain's chair. Clicking on a few buttons, Spock checked the status of the transporter again. The engineers working on it were still not complete with their repair. They said as much before Chief Medical Officer McCoy butted in on the video transmission.
"Dammit, Spock, the damn machine ain't working! Do you even need to check? Get Scotty up here t' fix it!"
Jim chuckled quietly. (Bones.)
"Lieutenant Commander Scott is currently unavailable, as he is in the process of an exceedingly dangerous and completely original mechanical procedure that may allow us to reach the Sealion."
"Well, even if we reach it, we ain't got the resources to get Jim back if this damn thing doesn't work!"
(I do not comprehend the amusement gained by his excessive rudeness and lack of respect for authority.
Yeah, well, keep on kidding yourself. You know you love the guy.)
Spock didn't really have anything to say to that; besides, his light emotions were uncontrollably bubbling up so that Jim could taste them.
(See, I knew it.)
Spock informed the three-man team to continue working until Lieutenant Commander Scott was free. Bones huffed off.
Spock sat back against the chair, having no other pressing matters brought directly to his attention.
He closed his eyes again, and let himself see through Jim.
Again, it was a dark storage unit. A trail a blood was behind him, barely noticeable in the darkness but plain enough if you were looking for it.
(There needs to be another way for me to get to the Enterprise, maybe this hunk of junk has a transporter…? I could always try to get a shuttlecraft… Though this ship doesn't seem big enough to warrant a shuttlecraft… I could try taking over the ship through manual control… First, I have to take care of Finnegan.)
Before, Spock dimly knew that Jim and Finnegan had had a direct confrontation. It had begun with a Mexican standoff, with both of them pointing phasers at each other's hearts. They had circled around each other warily, and finally Jim took the first move.
He had gone down low to the ground and charged, thrusting out with his right leg in order to collapse Finnegan's stance. In response, Finnegan shot wildly at Jim, missing the first three because of Jim's peculiar weaving motion but scratching his shoulder on the fourth. As Jim dove into Finnegan's space, he disregarded his wounded arm, and instead shot three times into the very vitals Finnegan would later be listing off.
Nothing happened.
As Jim was slightly puzzled that Finnegan should have been dead, or at least unconscious from the stun blasts in his abdomen vital points, Finnegan took the opportunity to slam his phaser against Jim's skull. That spun Jim away and onto the ground, his phaser flying across the smooth floor. Smirking, Jim could feel the smirk, Finnegan closed in on him. Pulling out his other phaser slowly from his belt, Jim fired in an instant up at him.
He hadn't hit Finnegan's mouth, definitely. He was still hearing it blabber on and on about killing him. No, he had hit something more important – Finnegan's arm. Not his dominant arm, because Finnegan was too cocky at the moment to have a wounded firing arm, but his arm nonetheless.
As far as Jim was concerned, they were basically equal at the moment, both with wounded arms. Though technically Jim was right-handed, he could shoot with either hand pretty much equally.
(Though you are still quite a bit more injured than he.
Hey, I already treated those injuries.
Still, the wounds exist, do they not?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Do not get injured again.
I'll keep that in mind, thanks. It's a good thing you're here in my head to tell me these types of things.)
The only problem was that Jim needed to lure Finnegan in somehow, to get close enough to him to disable him without getting shot again. Unconsciously, Jim fingered his third holster.
Under his breath, Jim whispered, "Maybe…"
He pulled out the multi-pronged alien scimitar, still encased within its handle, and compared it to his phaser in his other hand.
(There's something to be said for logic, after all.
Appreciated by many, used by few.
Hey, was that an insult?
Not at all, Captain. You have used it most wondrously.
Why thank you, Mr. Spock.)
Pressing the button, watching the blades bloom from the handle and glimmer in the dim lighting, Jim swiftly cut open the air vent Finnegan had used to enter the storage room and then sealed the way shut again with his phaser melting the metal back into place.
Jim crept through the tunnel, still hearing every loud, brash comment of Finnegan's all the way down the small, enclosed space, echoing around him.
This way, Finnegan would stalk the same room for some time alone, with no way out but to blast through the melted vent or go through the ridiculous amount of traps Jim set up for him at the door. Neither option looked very quick to Jim. It looked like Jim had some time on his hands. And some freedom.
(What am I going to do first?)
Attempt to gain control of the Sealion, Jim.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I need some alone time in my head, though.
Affirmative. I need this as well.)
Spock tuned down the connection as best he could, with Jim's help. It was easier now that Jim was not trying to hunt a man down and was calm for the most part. They both needed to focus on what was going on in front of them at the moment; Spock had a starship to run, and Jim had a starship to take over. Both were a bit busy.
"Commander Spock, Scotty here, reportin' status of Project Heart."
"Proceed."
"Aye, sir. Well, Ah've connected th' wee little thing t' both the deuterium cartridge, th' antimatter injector, th' antimatter inducer, th' deuterium injector, an' th' warp drive."
"Are there any difficulties so far in maintaining regular safety levels?"
"Nay. Commander. All's well here."
"Send me the updated information of the connection."
"…Done, sir."
Spock quickly checked over the files, knowing that Lieutenant Commander Scott was quite adept at his job and knew what he was doing when he installed machinery. Especially when that machinery had anything to do with warp mechanics.
"Thank you, Chief Engineer. Is the device ready for immediate activation?"
"Nay, sir, Ah still haveta set up th' shock converters, outlayers, trancievers, an' all th' – "
"Then I suggest you do so now. The Enterprise is running out of time."
"Aye, sir."
"Lieutenant Commander Scott, how much time will you need before you have completed the entire installation of Project Heart?"
There was a pause on the other end. "Ah would say… ten minutes, sir."
"Currently, the Enterprise has a total of eleven minutes left until the Impulse engines are unable to function properly. You may have your ten minutes, Chief Engineer. Use them wisely."
"Aye."
Without missing a beat, Spock turned on the Navigations and Piloting consoles. "Lieutenant Sulu, position and course. And Ensign Chekhov, closely study the Sealion's every action."
His orders were instantly followed.
Again, Spock was left to sit in the command chair. The Captain's chair. Waiting was all he could do now. That, and constantly check on status.
It was then when Spock noticed Uhura watching him.
He turned towards her. "Lieutenant…?" An eyebrow rose on his face.
"Sir, no contact from Starfleet at all since our last transmission. The decision of the Council to send in more force is still under discussion."
"Understood." Spock turned back to contemplate the screen before him, showing far-away stars seemingly zip past the Enterprise.
"Commander Spock, may I have a quick word."
Again, Spock looked at Uhura in bewilderment. This time he concealed his physical response to the emotion in time. It was unheard of for a lower officer to ask a Commander for a second away from her controls in the middle of a shipwide disaster. She had not even really asked; it sounded more like an order.
"Certainly." Spock stood, and the two of them made their way to the Captain's ready room, right off of the bridge.
Once behind closed doors, Uhura grabbed his face between her hands. "What's wrong?" She asked. "Are you okay? What can I do?" She began to pepper his face with tiny kisses, going up the jaw line.
Spock was frozen for a second from the sheer unexpectedness of the encounter. Then, as he adjusted himself to the situation, Spock's hands came up to Uhura's, and covered them.
"Nyota."
Slowly, Spock slid her hands back down, and held them on his chest.
"I am unaware of what you are referring to at the moment."
"Is it because the Captain's been taken?" Uhura knew that Spock knew exactly what she was talking about. "Is it because the Enterprise might break down and we might not save Kirk?"
Spock's hands dropped to his sides, letting hers go. "Maybe it's something else?" She captured his torso in a hug. "Or is it all of the above?"
Spock inclined his head slightly in response.
"Nyota, I must be able to handle situations such as this. It is essential for me to be able to effectively cope with the pressures of command upon a starship in order to successfully lead." Spock would never admit that sometimes he was unable to cope.
Uhura spoke all documented languages of the Federation. One that she was most familiar with was body language, and all of the little things that Spock would not admit in Standard, he admitted through his body language. She knew. He wouldn't look at her. And he wasn't directly answering any of her questions.
"…There's still hope, Spock."
He looked down into her eyes.
"Hope," Uhura continued, "to save the Captain. I… When I thought the Captain was dead… the smallest bit of hope let me find the truth."
"Nyota…" Spock stated, "Vulcans do not hope."
Uhura's eyebrow was raised this time.
"However," Spock continued, "as long as the probability of failure is higher than zero percent, there is still a minute chance of our success."
Uhura's eyes twinkled.
"Then you had better capitalize on your minute chances, Commander."
"Indeed, Lieutenant. In order to do so, we must both return to our posts."
"Affirmative, sir."
With one last peck on the lips, Uhura marched back to her station. Spock first stopped by his regular position at the Science console before returning to the command chair. He glanced at the timekeeper. Scotty had had five minutes to work already, and that left another five more before the experiment began.
It was at that exact moment when Scotty reported to the bridge. "Commander Spock."
Spock almost started in alarm. "Lieutenant Commander Scott. Has there been a setback in your operation?"
"Nay, Commander." Scotty was smiling, and Spock somehow knew it. "Th' necessary work fer th' complete set-up of Project Heart 'as been completed."
"Noted. Will this in any way be controlled by the Helm?"
"Aye, sir, Lieutenant Sulu will be able t' control the actual activation o' th' warp drive, jus' lahike 'ee always does. Jus' make sure he activates th' compilation of all three of the Heart's tasks simultaneously, then?"
"Of course, Lieutenant Commander. Activate the Heart when I give the order, then, Chief Engineer."
"Aye."
"Lieutenant Sulu, are you prepared for warp?"
"Yessir."
"Then, Lieutenant Commander Scott, activate Project Heart."
"Aye aye, sir!" Scotty complied quite willingly.
The engine thrummed with new life, and the entire ship felt it shake once or twice before it settled down.
Jim was dim in the back of Spock's head, but there nonetheless, and he had successfully escaped the current clutches of a battle. He was trying to find the pilot console, albeit unsuccessfully, and stumbling around with untold injuries. He needed to be treated immediately. Besides, the chances of Finnegan finding him before he found the console were too high for Spock's liking. This Project Heart was Spock's last resort, and he would take it, despite the danger. For Jim.
"Now, Lieutenant Sulu, activate Warp 5."
"Yessir, Commander."
Sulu turned up the throttle and gunned it for all he was worth.
Nothing happened.
Spock stood slowly from his chair, completely comprehending his utter failure.
Then he was smashed back into his seat by the sudden shift to warp.
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End of Chapter 10
tbc
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Author's Note:
Look at me, aren't I wonderful? I actually got this chapter done on time! Hahaha. Well. Anyway.
Sorry for the severe lack of Bones, but he wouldn't really show up in this one, since it's in Spock's POV and Bones is mostly irrelevant to the mission. I got like three lines of him in somehow, but even that was a stretch.
So I don't actually know anything about real machinery, let alone pseudo-magical Star Trek machinery. I've been researching a bunch about it online, and hopefully I got the terminology and all that right with the warp core mechanics. However, there's going to be a bunch more of this technobabble stuff, and if anyone is really good with that kind of stuff, for seriously I need your help. Because I… am bad at physics and space science and machines. And basic engineering. All of which I have to know for the next few chapters. And I don't. Please help! Assist me if you can! Try to run me through the basics, tell me random specifics, I don't care! Just teach me all you know about physics and machinery, PLEASE!
Oh, and review too.