"Captain. Captain. Captain." The incessant tone of his com woke Kirk from a sleep made restless by frustration. He leaned over and slapped the button with a surge of hope. He had left instructions he was to be wakened the very minute they worked out a solution to the problem that kept the Enterprise in useless orbit with her First Officer and assorted crew members trapped below. It had been nearly 40 days and they were well behind schedule. Only his insistence to Starfleet Command that the missing crew were still alive had prevented them from being ordered to proceed to their next assigned survey mission.

That sector will still be there next week! he'd snapped at Admiral Bantry. I have every confidence that Commander Spock has ensured the absolute safety of the landing party. They are out of communication,
not missing!

That was something less than the truth. In his off-watch hours, he repeated to himself over and over, I'd know if something had happened to Spock. I'd know if something had happened to Spock. Rationally,
he knew that he'd likely know nothing at all. He had told too many families, too many bereaved spouses, that their loved ones were dead,
had seen too many taken by complete surprise to believe that mere affection could guarantee a special delivery psychic message to announce a death. Still, as he waited for sleep each night, he could not believe that Spock could be gone and he, James Kirk, would not know. That was simply not possible.

"Kirk." he said to the com. "Tell me this is good news."

"Captain," Iyen said quietly, "no sir. We've detected a geological tremor on the planet, sir. I thought you would want to know - I mean,
want to be informed."

An earthquake. An earthquake in a blizzard. "Any idea how badly it hit the area the landing party is in?"

"Seven on the Richter scale, sir. However, as there aren't any structures or possible sources of landslides there, the chances of injury are considerably reduced."

"I understand, Mr Iyen. Thank you. Kirk out." He sat up and wondered once again why it was an unbreakable habit to thank the bearers of bad news. Spock, he thought, blast your pointy ears, once I get you back on this ship you'll never see a landing party again. McCoy's acidic comment some days ago that Captain Kirk was now in the position he had left the rest of the crew in on several memorable occasions had done nothing to soothe his temper. Spock, damn you, it's long past time for you to pull a rabbit out of your hat.

Spock would have been glad, at that point, to pull himself out of the ravine that had opened beneath his feet when the earthquake hit. The tremor had thrown them all to the ground, and bounced the travois into the air. Caught by the wind, it had flipped and skittered, dragging Larssen and Spock with it, and then there had been empty space beneath him, and a jolt as the travois somehow caught on something in that featureless plain and his grip on the harness brought him up short of a lethal fall. With no knowledge of the security of the travois, he could not count on that state of affairs continuing. He also dared not cause the travois to shift in his efforts to pull himself up. Already,
there had been one disconcerting movement when he tried to brace his feet against the side of the chasm. He held on, and raised his voice.

"Larssen!" He hoped she had not also fallen. Her harness strap flapped in the wind beside him. If she had gone over the edge, she had not kept her grip. He could not see the bottom of the fall through the blowing snow.

"Larssen!"

"Sir!" She seemed to be a short distance away. "Wait!"

Larssen had already realised that Spock still hung on to the travois from the way the right hand harness was pulled taught over the edge of the chasm while the left danced around in the gale. She had thrown herself spreadeagled on the travois as she saw the pit beneath them and managed to bring it slamming to the ground. Now she scrabbled in the pack that held the shelter and drew out the 'pegs' that shot themselves into the ground like pistons and held the survival shelter down in high wind. There was high tensile rope in another pack, and she fastened it to the first peg and drove it into the ground beside the travois. Rolling across the sled she shot a second peg on the other side, and then back again, until the travois was strapped down with the rope crisscrossing it.

"Grenwood!" she shouted. He had fallen not far away and was not moving. "Bob, come here! I need you!"

He moved, looked up, but made no move to get up. "Bob! Now!"

Grenwood shook his head. She could see his lips moving but anything he said was whipped away by the wind. She could also see that he was crying, and when he covered his face with his hands, still shaking his head, she cursed herself for thinking he was a good choice for this expedition. Wrong, Corrina, very very wrong.

It was twenty five seconds since Spock had disappeared from view.
Tentatively, she lifted her weight from the sled. It held firm, and she crawled to the edge of the ravine and looked down. Spock hung about ten feet below her, at the end of the harness strap, his face turned up to her. "I've got the sledge pinned with the shelter pegs."
she shouted. "Can you climb up?"

She saw him feel with his feet for purchase, brace to reach up for a better handhold, and the sled moved sickeningly. "Dogs!" Larssen spat in Romulan, and hastily she flung herself back, added her weight to the travois until it stopped moving. Hardly daring to look, she raised her head and saw that the harness strap still hung taught with a weight at the end of it.

They dare not lose the travois. Without the supplies on it, they would not survive long. Quickly, she unfastened the packs that held the shelter and one of the food packs and pushed them to one side.
The sled moved again and slid another inch towards the ravine. Out of time, Corrina. Get moving.

She grabbed the rest the rope, wrapped it around her waist and stepped to the edge of the chasm. "Sir!" she called. "Heads up!" and dropped the rope. It fell close enough to Spock for him to grab it, and Larssen took two strides back. "Ready!" she called.

The shock of his weight as he took hold of the rope drove her to her knees and she felt the rope bite even through the layers of her clothing. Gritting her teeth, she clamped her hands on the rope and fought back to her feet, bracing herself backwards. Each twitch of the rope as Spock climbed was a threat to her balance. Not daring to look sideways to see if the travois was still secure, Larssen kept her eyes fixed on the rope disappearing over the edge. If the travois started sliding, she had no idea what she would do.

To her immense relief, a gloved hand appeared at the chasm's edge,
followed by another, and then Spock pulled himself to safety and crawled clear. Larssen staggered wildly backwards as he let go of the rope and then fell flat on her back.

"Lieutenant," said Spock, "There is a high probability of aftershocks.
We must move to a place of safety immediately." He turned. "Ensign Grenwood!"

Lifting her head, Larssen saw that Grenwood hadn't moved in response to the command. Oh, Bob, she thought sadly, and clambered to her feet.
Spock had already taken a medical tricorder from the travois and was striding towards Grenwood when Larssen caught up with him. "Let me,
sir." she said.

He yielded the tricorder to her with a raised eyebrow. "The packs off the side of the travois are the shelter and food, sir." she went on. "I didn't want to lose everything."

"Indeed, a logical decision."

Larssen waited until he had turned to repack the travois and drawn it away from the chasm before hurrying to Grenwood. The tricorder told her little she didn't know: low body temperature, thready pulse, signs of shock.

"Bob," she said, kneeling beside him, "we have to get out of here.
There could be another tremor. Come on; let's get up now. Let's get up."

He stared at her. "I thought you would both got over." he said, barely audible through the wind. "I thought - I was afraid -"

"We're fine, Bob. We're doing fine. You have to get up now. Come on, let's get up."

He shook his head again, burying his face in his hands. "Leave me."
she heard him whisper. "I can't ... I can't ..."

"Bob, please."

"No..."

Larssen got to her feet, slogged over to where Spock had pulled the sled clear. "Sir, he's done in. We'll have to pack him on the travois, he can't walk."

"How badly is he injured?"

At her hesitation, Spock turned his full attention on her. "He's not - injured - sir. He's just - he's gone his limit." Larssen's eyes were full of worry as she looked at him, and then, reluctantly, said:
"He asked to be left behind, sir."

"That is not an acceptable course of action." Spock said, and noted as a subject for further consideration her relief at his words. "How long to you estimate he can endure the temperature while travelling on the travois?"

"He'll chill fast if he's not moving, sir. Half and hour, maybe?"

Spock examined his tricorder. "There is an area of solid rock approximately 400 yards south of here. We should be safe from aftershocks there."

He began dragging the travois towards Grenwood, and Larssen quickly took one side and helped him.