"Captain! Romulans in sensor range, sir!"
Iyen's voice was sharp with excitement, but not with nerves. Kirk's instincts that the Romulans were following a circuitous path to Starbase 41, not 43, had paid off when they picked up an emissions trail. Their more powerful warp drive had eaten up the distance between them, while Kirk, Chekov and Sulu put their heads together over manoeuvres. The crew were charged with energy and eager for battle.
"Red Alert. Shields up" said Kirk. "Tactical on screen."
The display showed the Romulans streaking through space in a staggered formation.
"Open a hailing frequency." Kirk said. "Romulan vessels, this is Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise. You are in violation of the Federation Romulan treaty. You are hereby instructed to return to the Neutral Zone immediately."
He held his breath while they waited for a response. Come on, he willed the Romulan commander, see sense. Do the right thing. Let us all get out of here ASAP, I have other things to do. He had stopped trying to ignore his anxiety over Spock after McCoy had warned him about the crew's morale. Instead, he fed it, focussed it, added his anger to it and used the mix to fuel his concentration and determination. Around him, he felt the bridge crew in the same state of hyper alert resolution.
"They're returning our hail, captain." Uhura said.
"Onscreen." The tactical display vanished, visible now on Kirk's armrest display.
The Romulan commander glared at Kirk. "We are in pursuit of a fugitive ship." he said coldly. "That ship is crewed by traitors to Romulus. We insist that you do not interfere."
As if to confirm his words, the second lead ship fired on the leading Romulan vessel, which twisted and turned in evasive manoeuvres. Kirk leaned forward.
"Romulan captain," he said charmingly. "I understand your situation.
Please understand mine. You are in violation of the Federation-
Romulan treaty and I must insist you return to Romulan space immediately. Your fugitive ship will be dealt with by the Federation."
"Pah! Your Federation is notoriously weak-minded and ruled by soft emotions. If the Treynis applies for asylum you will let them off with no punishment!"
Kirk muted the sound with a touch, said "Confirm name of lead ship"
without moving his lips and returned sound to the communication.
"Romulan commander," he said again, at his most winsome, "Do you have a name?"
"Sub Centurion Kaylis." the Romulan admitted reluctantly. Behind Kirk, Iyen said sotto voice, "Confirmed, captain."
"Splendid." Kirk said expansively. "Now I know whose name to enter in my mission log when I record that the Enterprise encountered five Romulan ships in Federation space in violation of the treaty, and after giving them three warnings to return to their own space," his voice hardened "destroyed them all." He leaned forward in his seat.
"Sub Centurion Kaylis, this is my third and final warning. I have urgent business elsewhere and I do not have time to bandy words with you all day, although," and here Kirk smiled with chilling graciousness, "I am sure the experience would be charming. I will see you in Romulan space or I will see you in hell and you have precisely five seconds to decide which. Am I understood?"
The response came as communications were cut off. "The two last ships are changing course to intercept us, sir!" cried Iyen. "They're attempting to lock on!"
"Evasive," snapped Kirk. "Mr. Chekov, return their fire if fired upon. Mr Sulu, get us in between the Treynis and her lead pursuer."
"Aye sir." from both and the gravity fluctuated as Sulu sent the Enterprise into a twisting dive that took them beneath the closest ships - or above them, Kirk supposed, for direction in space was largely a matter of how you looked at it.
"They're firing." Iyen reported. "Aft deflectors holding."
Tactical showed photon torpedoes streaking away from the Enterprise,
then one side of a Romulan ship shifted colour to red and that ship began to drop away to the edge of the screen. The Enterprise gained on, then passed, the third ship and now only Kaylis' ship and the fugitive were in front of them.
"Mr Sulu," Kirk said, "I want you to drop us in front of our friend Kaylis, directly in his course. I also want you to do this with the Enterprise facing him."
"Aye sir." said Sulu, as if flipping a starship end over end in warp while flying a precision course and evading enemy fire was all in a day's work.
"Then I want you to reverse, matching Kaylis' speed."
"Aye sir." Sulu could be as unflappable as Spock when it came to flying.
"Match his course changes - he'll try to get around us - but make sure you reduce speed each time. Let him get nice and close."
"Aye, sir." Not quite so calm this time. Kirk could tell that Sulu had his eyebrows raised.
"And prepare for my command to all stop."
"Aye - sir."
Not a one of his crew made a sound, not even the relatively inexperienced Iyen, but Kirk felt them thinking questions at him. He smiled, and his voice was easy, even lazy, as he said, at Sulu but to all of them:
"They'll call this the Sulu Manoeuvre and they'll forbid anyone from ever doing it again, I guarantee. But we'll do it today, and we'll call it the Ser Etta Manoeuvre."
"Aye, sir." said Sulu, and "Aye, sir." several others murmured. All had their heads bent over their stations except Uhura, who was watching tactical. She looked across at Captain Kirk, her face properly sober but her eyes dancing.
"Captain, I wish to report that the ship's betting board is offering odds on the outcome."
Not now, Uhura, he thought, not wanting Sulu to hear the odds against his success, but she continued brightly.
"Five to One on all Romulan ships destroyed in two minutes. Two to one on all Romulan ships destroyed in three minutes. Six to one on all Romulan ships destroyed in four minutes." She stopped as laughter rippled through the bridge, even Sulu joining in despite the sweat shining on his face. As it died down she continued, "In addition,
there are favourable odds on offer for those wishing to bet on the order the ships will be destroyed in, as well as the precise times of their destruction. An announcement has been made that due to the reputations of the officers at Helm and Weapons, payouts will not be made on a "or nearest" basis, but only for exact times to four decimal places. Moira regrets that bets cannot be accepted from Officers Hikaru Sulu and Pavel Chekov, although other bridge officers are welcome to wager with the proviso of reduced odds due to insider information."
Kirk smiled. "Ms Uhura, put me down for 20 credits on no ships destroyed and a course change for the neutral zone on the part of the last three ships in fifteen minutes or less."
"Aye sir." she said, and turned to her board as Sulu said: "Two minutes to intercept."
As the whooping red alert siren started, Ann Ridley jumped, knocking her stool over. The science crew around her had started shutting down their experiments, without panic but with a great deal of efficient haste. Ann stood frozen, until one of the Sulamid scientists picked up her stool with one handling tentacle while gently pushing Ann in the direction of the corner with another.
"Regulations require securing of all loose objects." s/he rumbled at Ann. "Includes Professors. Suggest using takehold."
Ann stumbled to the takehold and grabbed it. Her face felt cold and numb, and the sounds of the crew closing lockers and fastening latches seemed very far away. She hugged the takehold with both arms, and tried to keep her teeth from chattering.
By the end of the second day travelling without the travois, Larssen was certain she was going to die. She no longer welcomed the thought,
and fought grimly to stay on her feet and keep up with Commander Spock as they struggled on, but it seemed unlikely to her she could survive even another few hours, let alone two or three more days. Spock was studying his calculations, and she could tell he did not like what he saw, but she was too exhausted to ask how far behind schedule they were.
"We must travel one hundred and fifty miles tomorrow," he told her,
"and the same the day after."
I didn't want to know that, she thought, and closed her eyes. She had no appetite for the ration pack that lay open beside her, but forced herself to eat. It would be irresponsible not to do everything she could, irresponsible to let herself be weaker than she needed to be.
"Not to put to fine a point on it," she said, "and I'm not being self-
indulgent here, but I'm not sure if I'm physically able. The medical tricorder is not a happy machine."
Her voice was weak, but Spock noticed none of the distant, dreamy quality that had concerned him over the past few weeks.
"The medical tricorder is not, as you say, 'happy', with me either."
he told her. "Were it not illogical to do so, I would suspect it has suffered from too long an association with Dr McCoy."
Larssen laughed, a mere puff of air. She was lying back against one of the packs and rolled her head to look at him as if the effort of raising it was beyond her. Always thin, he was gaunt now, his hair grown out of its usual neat cut. It hid the tips of his ears, and in the dim light he appeared more human than ever, until one caught the expression in his dark eyes. Larssen found she did not think of him as an unnaturally cold human anymore, or as an inconsistently human Vulcan. He was simply Spock, right down to the core. She felt an odd delight in the knowledge. If she died tomorrow, or the day after, at least she would have known this, and that was something.
"Commander," she said conversationally, but there was speculative mischief in her eyes, "what's the first thing you're going to do when we get back to the Enterprise?"
"Report to the Captain." Spock said calmly.
"No, no. After that. The first thing you choose to do."
"I do not understand." Spock said, regarding her blankly. "That is the first thing I choose to do."
The game, one long familiar to landing parties in difficult situations, was less fun with no-one to play it with, but Larssen struggled on. "Well," she said, "I'm trying to decide between chocolate cake and a bath. I'm sure I'll be able to get permission for either of them."
"A difficult decision." Spock said dryly. "How have you resolved this dilemma?"
"I haven't." she said happily. "That's why I'm asking you."
"Vulcans find water vapour uncomfortable, and I do not eat chocolate."
"I guessed that. I thought you might have a suggestion that transcended both cake and bath."
"I have." he said calmly. "I am going to report to the Captain."
Larssen winced. For a moment there, she had thought he had caught on.
Misjudged him again, Corrina. And then she opened her eyes incredulously as he continued impassively:
"If this option does not appeal to you, Lieutenant, I suggest that there is no physical barrier to eating chocolate cake while in the bath, if one's dexterity is reasonably good. I will personally insist you receive the necessary allowance from both the quartermaster and the commissary, if that is your desire."
Larssen had a sudden mental image of Spock solemnly eating chocolate cake in a bubble bath, and fought to suppress a fit of the giggles.
"Oh, it is, Commander, it is." she said archly. "At this point, it's my heart's desire."
He made a note on his PADD, and then looked at her. "Is there a beverage you would prefer with the cake?" he asked in a tone which was simultaneously so like himself and so like the food synthesisers in the mess hall that
Larssen gave a great whoop of laughter and subsided against the pack she was using as a back rest, helpless with giggles. When she recovered herself, Spock observed that she turned to her meal with more appetite, and made a point, in the morning, of asking with utmost seriousness if she had yet decided on the drink that would most complement the cake. Larssen started the trek the next day chuckling loudly enough to be heard through the wind.
She did not keep laughing long. The third time she fell Spock took her pack as well as his own, and she did not protest. He could see from her expression that she had given up any pride or desire to prove herself, and was concentrating now only on the urgent business of staying alive, and on her feet, and moving forward. He thought of slowing his pace to make it easier for her, but dismissed the thought:
that would remove any chance they had of reaching the research base in time. He would go more slowly when she was no longer able to keep up with him, but not before.
Unexpectedly, she managed far better than he had expected. As darkness closed around them they had covered more than two thirds of the distance they had needed to travel that day, better than Spock had estimated likely. They would still not reach the base for two days,
but there was the possibility the Enterprise, and the powerful communications relay aboard her, was still in orbit. He stopped, and lowered the packs to the ground.
Weaving on her feet, Lieutenant Larssen shouted through the gale: "Is it far enough, sir?"
Spock thought, for an instant, of lying to her. It was anathema to a Vulcan to lie: it was disrespectful of reality, and thus of the universe, but he wondered if it was what Kirk or McCoy would do in this situation. Larssen had made an extraordinary effort, and it seemed cruel to tell her it had been in vain. To lie, he thought then,
to keep her in ignorance for one more day, is what one would do to a child too young for understanding. Regardless of what Jim would do, I cannot treat her that way.
He shook his head. "No." he shouted back. "But we can go no farther today."
He meant, You can go no farther, and Larssen knew it.
"Balls!" she yelled at him, and picked up her pack, and then his,
staggering with the weight. Glaring wildly, she started forwards again, only to be brought up short when he laid hold of one of the packs she carried.
"Dogs copulate with their ancestors in innovatively obscene ways!" she gasped in Romulan, as he took the packs from her. "I won't stop,
sir!"
"Perhaps not," Spock told her, "but you were going the wrong way." He settled the packs on his shoulders again, and turned in the direction of the base. As she stumbled behind him, hanging on to one of the packs to keep her bearings, he added over his shoulder, "When we have leisure, Lieutenant, I would like to know where you learned such fluently idiomatic Romulan."
Behind him, Larssen made an unidentifiable sound, and made the effort to come level with him. "I didn't know you spoke Romulan, sir!" she shouted.
"It would seem to be information you should have obtained before choosing your expletives of choice." Spock said mildly, and recognised the sound Lieutenant Larssen made again as all that was left of her laugh. "Walk behind me," he instructed, "and let me break the path."
Larssen nodded and dropped back again. "Dead dogs copulate with their ancestors in innovatively obscene ways." he heard her say faintly, and reflected that if it would keep Larssen's spirits up and keep her on her feet, he would listen to Romulan curses all the way to the base.
Humans, he thought for the thousandth time since his application to Starfleet Academy, were far less predictable than most Vulcans assumed.
She was falling more frequently now, and finding it more difficult to get up. Spock took hold of her arm to assist her to her feet, and was surprised not to be overwhelmed by the misery he had expected her to feel.
"Stinking dead dogs..." she gasped, and stopped. He felt her humour flickering dimly, surrounded by a howling space containing only the mindless determination to continue.
"You can do better than that, Lieutenant." he told her, and felt the flame flicker a little higher. "Stinking dead dogs..."
"Copulating with their ancestors in innovative obscene ways." she finished obediently, and fell in behind him.
"I have every confidence in your abilities." he told her, both meaning and not meaning her linguistic abilities. After a brief pause, he added:
"Although not in your pronunciation."
They trudged on.