The three tone whistle of the comm. unit woke Kirk from the most restful sleep he'd had since Iyen's attempts at weather control had failed. He reached for the acknowledgement switch, and was momentarily disconcerted when he couldn't find it. A sleepy murmur beside him reminded him why: he was not in his own quarters.
He slipped his arm from beneath Ann's head and got out of bed.
"Computer." he said softly, "Lights at minimum."
A soft glow illuminated the room and he found his way to the comm.
switch. "This is the captain." he said, and then belatedly wondered if perhaps he should have let Ann answer her own calls.
At the other end, however, Uhura sounded unsurprised as she said:
"Coded transmission from Admiral Bantry, sir."
"I'll take it in my quarters." Kirk said. "Give me five minutes."
"Yes, sir." Uhura was never less than professional, but at times like this Kirk really wished there was a two-way vid screen attached to standard comm. units. He would have bet his last credit she was grinning.
"What is it?" Ann was sitting up, her hair flattened on one side by the pillow.
"Starfleet calling. I have to take it in my quarters." He was dressing as he spoke.
"Will you come back?" For a second Kirk heard only the pout of every lover left alone in bed, and then he saw the vivid fear in her face.
Ann knew what a Starfleet communication could mean.
"If I can." he said.
Ann nodded, pleating and unpleating the edge of the sheet nervously.
"All right." she said, her voice small, and then with a shaky grin:
"All in a day's work, right?"
Kirk sat down beside her on the bed, despite the shortness of time,
and put his arms around her. "I've kept this ship and this crew safe for three years." he said. "I'll keep her safe yet. Don't worry,
Ann."
"You've got two minutes left," she said after a while. "Better take that call."
He swore, and ran.
Bantry's face was sombre, his gills a muted grey. "Captain Kirk,
sensor buoys report a major incursion from the neutral zone. Five Romulan ships have cross the border into Federation space. The Enterprise is the only ship in position to intercept before they reach Starbase 43. Your orders are to intercept the Romulans and either destroy them or see that they return to their own space."
"Understood, Admiral." Kirk said evenly.
"Kirk, I'm sorry. I know your people are still missing. Ser Etta will be given high priority for a flyby for all ships passing the sector. You'll return to the system as soon as this mission permits."
Kirk did not point out how few ships passed the sector, or how unlikely it was that the landing party could survive until the next one was due. Nor did he point out the odds of the Enterprise surviving a showdown with five Romulan ships, and even if she did, the odds against no new crisis arising. He simply nodded to the Dulurian,
and ended the conversation.
It was a long moment, however, before he activated the comm again.
"Sulu." he said softly. "Sensor logs of a five ship incursion from the neutral zone are on their way to your station. Plot an intercept course at maximum warp and engage. I'll be on the bridge shortly."
"Aye, sir."
Another code, the one activating allcall transmission to the entire ship.
"This is Captain Kirk." he said, and his voice was confident and clear. "We have been ordered to intercept and repel a five ship incursion of Romulans who have crossed over from the neutral zone.
When we've seen our Romulan friends out of the area, we'll return to Ser Etta and collect our missing people. I'm sure you'd all like to do that as soon as possible, so I'm equally sure you'll be eager to deal with the Romulans with all possible speed and dispatch. You can be confident I share that desire. Kirk out."
In Engineering, Scotty shook his head briefly, then turned to the his people. "Ye heard the captain!" he roared. "We'll be backside deep in Romulans before ye know it, so I want those engines PURRING, d'ye hear me!"
On the bridge, Chekov ran all weapons systems up to readiness while Sulu, his face at its imperturbable best, ran a level two diagnostic on the manual controls.
In her guest quarters, Professor Ann Ridley put her hands over her mouth and closed her eyes, trying to stop shaking.
In sickbay, McCoy listened with a sinking heart. He knew all too well how unlikely it was that the Enterprise would avoid further immediate orders if they survived the fight with the Romulans, and orders after that, and after that. There were too many crises in the Federation to let the Starfleet flagship hang about forever, waiting on six crew members, and each crisis would take them further and further away from Ser Etta.
"Damnit." he said crossly. Christine Chapel was in the door of his office, tears standing in her eyes. "Don't cry, Christine, we'll be back here in no time and that pointy-eared menace will be threatening my sanity again."
"Of course." she said in a tone that let him know he hadn't fooled her one iota, and he turned away before she could see the moisture in his own eyes.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
"Shh, Bob, shhh." Larssen looked up at Spock, her eyes bright with tears. Grenwood had been delirious for most of the day and was growing steadily weaker. "Shhh, Bob, it's all right, it's all right." she said for the thousandth time, stroking his hair. She fought down the impulse to run out of the shelter by recognising it for what it was,
her own fear of watching Bob die. She fought down the impulse to hit Commander Spock across the face by recognising it as an irrational expectation for him to behave in a human manner. She did not think she could ever fight down the guilt that ate at her as she once again reassured Grenwood that he had not failed, no, he had tried hard and done his best and they were proud of him, he had not failed...
Bad enough that he's dying, she thought brutally. To die in guilt,
and fear, and misery...
She turned aside for a moment, fighting for composure. "Sir," she said softly to Spock, "will you tell him he's not to blame? Please? I know - I know it's painful for you to be near him when he's - like this - but -" She realised to her horror that she was crying, and wiped her face hurriedly. When she looked up, Spock had taken her place at Grenwood's side, although he did not touch the young man.
"Ensign," he said, in a tone of authority Larssen could not hope to match, "you have nothing to reproach yourself for. You have performed your duties to the limits of your abilities under difficult circumstances and my mission log reflects this fact."
To Larssen's relief, his words calmed Grenwood. "I couldn't - I couldn't - " he murmured brokenly.
"You did all you could." Spock assured him. "What you could not do is beyond your power to alter."
When Grenwood did not speak again, Spock rose and retreated to the other side of the shelter. Larssen knelt beside Grenwood, and saw that his eyes were open and he seemed to recognise her.
"Bob?" she said softly.
"Cory -" he said. "I'm not - not cold anymore. But I'm scared."
She lay down beside him and slipped one arm beneath his head. "It's all right." she told him. "It's all right, it's all right, it's all right ..." she held him and told him until she realised she was talking to herself.
Spock had felt Grenwood's death as it happened and he watched silently as Larssen sat up and methodically began to remove the ensign's jacket and gloves before taking a body bag from the medpack. Her movements jerky, her face set, she laid the bag out. Spock rose to his feet and went to help her lift Grenwood's body onto the bag, and she nodded stiffly in acknowledgement but did not speak as she sealed the bag.
"With the locator in the bag, the retrieval team can take him back to the ship when they collect the deceased from the shuttle crash." she said flatly.
Spock could not determine her motivation for giving him information he already had, and said nothing. "We should move him outside immediately," Larssen went on, in that same cold tone, "to minimise decomposition."
"No significant decomposition will occur overnight in this temperature." Spock told her. Larssen shook her head sharply.
"We should move him outside." she repeated, and Spock thought that perhaps she was uncomfortable with the corpse still in the shelter.
"As you say," he agreed politely, and bent to lift one end of the bag as Larssen lifted the other.
Larssen imagined she could hear Grenwood's voice, Not out in the cold,
Cory, don't put me out in the cold... and she closed her mind to everything except the task at hand. With the body bag laid outside the shelter, she evaluated Grenwood's jacket and gloves, the gloves too big and clumsy for her, the jacket too small for Spock.
"Sir," she said, and laid the gloves beside him.
Not in the cold, Cory, please...
Pulling Grenwood's jacket on, she checked the shelter for anything else that needed to be done.
"Will we move on in the morning, sir?" She wanted to run outside and pull Grenwood back in, open the bag and cling to the corpse,
screaming. She held still. Don't put me out in the cold, Cory...
"If you feel able, Lieutenant."
Spock had long ago noted that strong emotions could make humans behave in unusual ways, but he sensed no such uncontrollable emotion from Larssen. Indeed, he sensed nothing at all, not even the vague static most psychically immature beings gave off as their minds moved busily from thought to thought. Yet the woman who stood before him could have been a stranger.
"I'll be able, sir." she told him, and turned to the task of preparing to move. When she had finished she looked around and nodded once, then went to the corner furthest from Spock and lay down, her back to him.
"Lieutenant," he said formally, "I grieve with you."
"Go to hell, sir." she said with vicious precision. Not in the cold,
Cory, not out in the cold ... She could only maintain her self control if she held her mind very still, if she focused down very hard and did not think. She knew that Commander Spock had just used a Vulcan expression of condolence, and in his own way meant exactly what he said. Her response was unjust, offensive, uncalled for. I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care...
Not in the cold, Cory, please, Cory, I'm so cold...
I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care I don't care
I don't care I don't care...
Spock heard her stifled sobbing, muffled on her sleeve. He closed his eyes, and sat silent in the dark.