Two chapters for this update! :)
All around him, Jim felt the air sucked thin. Hot bodies trembled against his, and the noise of shallow breathing pinched the darkness.
His heart pounding, Jim strained to hear the voices from above. He heard one of the innocents cry out. He instinctively pulled backwards, and the cold, hard water pipe pressed against his spine.
Aravik had gone to turn the water on. He never made it to the Oasis—
He never made it to the Oasis.
Another innocent cried out. A pang of cold desperation seared through his chest, so powerful that left him reeling giddily. The fear both came from inside himself and from somewhere else, somewhere he could not define.
The world rushed back in on him. The darkness, the heat, and above him, Spock's silence. As the silence persisted, Jim felt his hands clenching outside his own will.
"Open the door, Spock," the leader demanded.
Jim sprang into action. Feeling the hard rectangular shape of the tricorder digging against his thigh, he twisted around to reach it. He ripped it out from under his belt. His hands fumbled over it, turning it to rest facing up on his bunched knees. Using his nail, he dug his thumbnail into the little latch and pried it up. The backing fell to the ground with a clatter.
"What the hell are you doing, Jim?" whispered McCoy, arm pressing against his.
Jim wriggled his arm free and reached forward. He felt the curved shape of the water pipe with both hands. Then, he paused to think.
He recalled the flash of light on Aravik's wrist. He lowered his voice.
"Aravik."
"Yes?" The voice was a hair above silence.
"Give me your bangle."
"It was a gift from T'Prylla."
"Please. I need your bangle."
Against the wall, the innocents gasped for air, writhing for relief against the merciless blades. Dark green blood glittered on the edges of the blades, trickling down their necks and staining the collars of their cloaks.
"Please," Spock said. His throat was tight, and the word came out low and hoarse. "They have done nothing wrong. Stop this."
"It is not us you should be asking," the leader replied. "All you have to do is open that door."
"I cannot," he insisted. "I do not have the key."
"You must open that door!"
Spock took a few steps towards the leader, then halted again. Though the rest of his face remained stoic, when the light dazzled in his eyes, it was clear that his pupils had blown wide with fear.
Behind him, the innocents started choking.
"You must open that door!"
Spock's baritone and the leader's heavy bass rose and fell above him, punctuated by the choking, pitching into screams. Jim gripped the warm, sweat-slick metal bangle in his hands.
The material the pipe was made of—he had encountered it before, in a laboratory class at the Academy. What was it exactly that grey-haired professor had said?
He felt Aravik's bangle bending in his hands. The metal cut into his palms, and hot blood rose in his clenched fists. Still, he persisted until the metal band was entirely straight.
The professor had done a demonstration with a small cube of material and a Bunsen burner, his low, gruff voice explaining, The relatively low melting point comes at a great advantage for Vulcan architectural work, as this material essentially turns to putty when it's sufficiently heated, making it exceptionally malleable…
Twisting around, he felt for the pipe. He placed one end of the metal strip on the pipe and quickly looped the metal around it, creating a tight coil wrapped around the pipe. Then, groping for his tricorder, he carefully touched the open battery pack to the tip of the metal strip.
Electricity sizzled. He felt all the refugees turning for the source of the sound. He gripped the tricorder in his hands, pushing the sounds of the screaming innocents out of his mind.
His hands grew hotter and hotter. He felt the heat crawl up his arms and up his neck. In the darkness, the coil started to pulse with a red glow. His hands shook and his heart pounded.
Another scream. Spock was running out of time.
The innocents cried all around him. Unable to bear any more, Spock shut his eyes. Slowly reopening them, he took a deep breath.
"Please," he entreated again, his voice threatening to shake. "They are innocent. Free them."
"Where is T'Prylla?" growled the leader.
"She is dead. I murdered her."
The leader shook his head. He turned to his men. "We will give him one more minute. Then, slit their throats."
Jim's heart thundered in his throat. His hands shook violently, but he held the tricorder firmly in place. The glow grew more and more intense, crowding the refugees' faces with red terror.
Back at the Academy lecture hall, that girl with the long antennae had raised her hand.
Vulcan is extremely hot, no? If the melting point is so low, wouldn't the heat cause frequent damage to this material?
Excellent question. When it's used in infrastructure, an additional coagulant is added to this metal so that if any damage is done to it, it repairs itself almost immediately.
An unmistakable drip. Jim sucked in a breath. More and more drips followed. Yanking the metal strip off the pipe, he reached forward. He had melted a decent sized hole in the water pipe.
Two screams sounded at once. Spock's minute would soon be up. His heartbeat escalated, and his breaths came short. His chest tightened around his lungs.
In his raw hyperconsciousness of fear, he felt a searing in his body. All of a sudden, he felt his thoughts and senses merge with a live, thrumming consciousness.
"Half a minute, Spock!"
He heard the voice both above and within. The breath caught twice in his lungs.
"Everybody, into the pipe!" Jim hissed. He reached out, grabbing the nearest refugee, and pushed him towards the hole. A rip of fabric tore through the silence. Jim winced, and everyone tensed. When no sounds came from above, the refugee fought her way in, and the next refugee struggled forward.
"Your time is running out, Spock!"
The voice, above and within. Jim's chest clenched as a live pattern of thoughts lit up in his brain in bright bursts.
The next refugee, and the next, crawled into the narrowing space, the hole already shrinking smaller and smaller as the pipe resealed itself. Jim pushed each of them in.
Then: "Your time is up, Spock. Decide."
Jim saw a vivid flash of green blood flowing freely from pale Vulcan necks. He felt hands gripped tightly behind the back, nails cutting into flesh.
The refugees squeezed into the pipe, crawling down its length, one after the other. Jim shut his eyes.
Spock.
The leader strode down the dining hall, stopping right in front of Spock. His hot, moist breath prickled Spock's face.
"Will you open the door?" he asked.
Spock.
The innocents screamed behind him. Spock's breaths came shallow, and the blood rushed in his ears. A strong, steady heartbeat pulsed through his thoughts, and his eyes shut again.
Spock. Open the door.
A golden warmth washed through his body, seeping through his heart and all of his veins.
Jim.
Open the door, Spock.
Taking a deep breath, Spock opened his eyes. He spoke before he understood what he was saying.
"Yes."
The refugees crowded the shrinking opening, anxious to enter the pipe. They trembled and pressed close together.
They heard the jingle of keys, and the approaching of heavy footsteps. Jim ushered them inside, urging them on quietly.
He heard the voices crescendo above him. Jim drew in a deep breath, and he felt the pulsing of his heart intertwining with another beat. There was a click as the key entered the keyhole.
Spock knelt under the table with the leader hovering above him, his robes pooling around him. Drawing one last deep breath, he twisted the key and slid the slab aside.
He sucked in a breath. Save for the water pipe, the compartment was entirely empty.
He regained his composure quickly. Rising, he turned to face the leader. "As you can see, I was telling the truth," he said. "I am harboring no one here. I was previously unaware of this compartment's existence. It was pure fortune that this key worked, for it is merely a key I found among the others when I first came to the Sanctuary."
The leader stared at him for several moments. "We found nothing this time," he stated. "However, we will return. Expect us again soon."
Spock dipped his head. "I anticipate your return."
The leader looked at him hard for another moment. He turned away, and gesturing over his shoulder, strode to the door. All the warriors fell into line after him, and as Spock watched from the doorway, the beige swarm vanished into the desert.
As soon as they had disappeared into the desert horizon, Spock turned away from the door to the innocents, still huddling against the wall.
"The most badly injured, go to the medical wing. The rest of you, go back to your quarters."
Hushed and gasping, the masses dispersed, some clutching at their throats, others supporting their friends. Spock gazed out, watching them go. Then, he strode quickly over to the doorway. He scanned the desert one last time, confirming that it was empty, then shut the door. He walked over to the open compartment, peering down.
"Brothers and sisters?" he said, voice raised. There was no response. He looked around the space for some clue as to their escape, but he found none. "Brothers and sisters?"
"After that ordeal, we are now," said a voice.
Spock turned, and he found his breath catching in his throat. The captain stood before him in his sandy cape and soft golden tunic. His hair was tousled and his smile exhausted, but he stood up as tall as Spock had always seen him. Regarding his figure, the golden light he had felt earlier resurged inside him, stronger than ever.
"The refugees are safe," said Jim. "They're in the water room. My doctor friend is with them."
"I must say I cannot understand how—"
"There was something that I felt inside me—"
They spoke at once, then both broke off. Jim's mouth twitched in a soft laugh, and he glanced away.
"Let's not talk about any of it right now. I'll help you clean up."
The red afternoon light edged the scattered pottery shards. As Jim knelt down to scoop them into his palms, Spock opened his mouth, about to insist that he could do it himself, to tell him to return to his quarters and rest. None of these words came. Wordlessly, he knelt beside Jim as the thundering heartbeats—and the sharp golden light—fell away.