Centurion Nelvar, the commander of the Treynis, was trying to look humble and unthreatening. It was not an easy pose for a Romulan,
although Kirk reflected that the Commander was aided by the fact that McCoy had laid him flat on his back on a diagnostic bed and was prodding him with an array of medical equipment.
"We did not mean to violate the treat, Captain Kirk." Nelvar said.
"However, we had not choice of our course after those four warbirds took up our trail in the Neutral Zone. We had hoped to escape along the borders of the Empire to some previously uncharted section of space."
"And do what, may I ask?" Kirk said sceptically. 'Conquer it?"
"I know this sounds unlikely, Captain, but we had not such intention.
It is not widely know outside the Empire, but there are some Romulans dedicated to peace."
"And so many of those rise to Centurion in the Romulan fleet." Kirk's tone was silken, but his eyes were hard. "We're about fifteen minutes from Sub Centurion Kaylis, Centurion. I have a limited amount of time to spend on this. Unless you want be to return you to the Empire, I suggest you become persuasive. Now."
"We request asylum from the Federation." Nelvar said quickly "We submit ourselves to the jurisdiction of whatever courts the Federation should deem appropriate and to whatever disposal the Federation chooses. I speak for my crew."
"That's persuasive." Kirk said. "We'll have to keep you confined until we can turn you over to the appropriate authorities."
"I expected no more."
"Good. And now, Nelvar, in exchange for my getting four warbirds off your tail, saving your life, and providing you with a chance to start a new one, you can do something for me." Kirk leaned close to the Romulan. "You are within your rights to request immediate transfer to a Starbase, where at least you'll have more comfortable accommodation.
However, I'm asking you to waive those rights."
"For what reason?" Nelvar asked.
"I need time. I have six crew out of communication on a planet in this sector and I don't want to - how should I say it-"
"Put yourself in the way of another order?" Nelvar suggested. 'Have you sabotaged your communications relay? That was always our first option."
Kirk laughed. "I see we have more in common with the Romulans than is widely thought. Centurion, will you do this for me?"
"For myself, yes. But I cannot speak for my crew on this."
"As soon as the doctor has finished with you you'll be returned to your crew. Try to persuade them, Centurion,"
"Captain to the bridge! Captain to the bridge!"
Kirk slapped the comm button. "On my way." he said, and was gone.
"This is Lieutenant Commander Uhura of the USS Enterprise." that officer was saying as Kirk stepped out of the turbolift. "Please respond. You are in violation of the Federation Romulan Treaty.
Please respond."
"Captain on the bridge." Kirk said, stepping down to the chair on the left as Uhura slipped out of it to the right. Kirk noted with satisfaction that the bridge crew were going about their tasks with their usual brisk efficiency, although damage reports were streaming in from all parts of the ship.
"Damage reports to your two, Captain." Uhura said, settling back at her station.
"Summarise."
"Sickbay reports three causalities, one serious, none critical, no fatalities. Engineering reports instability in the warp field generator, Mr Scott estimates forty minutes to restore maximum power."
"Tell him he's got ten."
"Aye, sir." she said. "And Ensign Regna requests your presence in science lab seven when you have the time, sir."
Kirk turned in his chair, ignoring the Romulans for a moment. "Is there a problem there?" Ann, he thought. Ann's hurt.
"No damage to that sector, captain." Uhura said. "Ms Regna wanted me to make it clear it was not an emergency."
With an effort, Kirk dismissed the speculation that leapt to his mind,
and turned back to the centre screen.
"Open hailing frequencies, prepare that sensor log for transmission."
"Hailing frequencies open, sir."
"Sub Centurion Kaylis, this is Kirk of the Enterprise. You have told us that your presence here is due to your pursuit of a fugitive. I am sending you a sensor log" Kirk nodded at Uhura "which proves that the fugitive ship has been destroyed. Therefore, your presence here is no longer necessary."
Kaylis looked at something off screen, obviously a display of the Enterprise's recording of the destruction of the Treynis. When he looked back at Kirk there was something akin to respect in his eyes.
"Pah! I thought the Federation was a haven for such criminals!"
"I don't have time to be a haven today." Kirk said. "Now, Kaylis,
your ships are helpless and I'm still in a hurry. Are you going to go back to your own territory, or shall I give my officers the order to fire?"
"Your solution to the problem of the Treynis is truly Romulan, Kirk,
but your Federation weakness shows itself again. No Romulan would give such quarter to a helpless enemy!" Then, as Kirk drew breath to speak, Kaylis raised his hand. "But we shall take it. There is no point in fighting when one can only lose. One day, Kirk, you and I shall meet again."
"Set your course, Kaylis." Kirk said, indifferent to the Romulan's threats. "We'll see you to the door."
When they reached the research station Larssen was on her feet again,
through only held there by Spock's grip on her arm. She had spent part of the trip upside down over Spock's shoulder in a fireman's lift, and part of it stumbling behind him. He found the constant physical contact wearing, although she did not bombard him with the wild surges of emotions that many humans felt. Instead, he sensed only -snow- from her and -going forward- and -cold-. Still, as he bypassed the access code on the station doors with an emergency Starfleet override, at least part of his relief was not due to Larssen's continued survival, or his own arrival in close to the necessary time,
but the simple knowledge that he could let go of her now.
The doors hissed shut behind them and they were in the dull yellow lighting of a station in mothballs. Spock had given the command himself, two months previously.
Now he said, "Computer, standard lighting, temperature at normal plus ten degree, command code Starfleet Alpha 321, Enterprise, Spock."
The heating came on and the light brightened slightly. Spock steered Larssen to the nearest outlet. She sank down beside it, eyes closed.
"Wait there, Lieutenant. I must go immediately to the communications station."
Her eyes opened briefly in response, that was all. Spock opened a wall locker and took out two of the station comm sets. He put one in Larssen's hands. "These are linked to the base unit with hardwire relays at 3 foot intervals. The frequency of relay units will overcome the interference that prevents the use of Enterprise communicators. I will return shortly."
He would have preferred to see that she got immediate medical attention, but his chronometer told him there was no time. Without hesitation, he strode away.
Larssen knew, intellectually, that it was warmer, but she couldn't feel it yet. She made one gigantic effort to put the headset on with her numb and clumsy fingers, and then slumped to the floor. Made it,
she thought dully, made it, made it, made it...
She had no idea how long Commander Spock was gone, but she made the effort to open her eyes when she heard his voice. To her surprise,
she could not see his boots in front of her, and she realised that the voice was coming over the comm. unit in her ear.
"Lieutenant Larssen." he said again. She wondered if it was her imagination, or if he really sounded tired, as tired as she felt.
Probably projection, she thought to herself, nobody could be as tired as I feel.
"Sir." she murmured.
"The external relay unit is out of alignment and not responding to the controls." he told her as if he were saying, Weather continuing fine with a chance of showers over night. "Diagnostics indicate a break in the remote circuits which must be repaired."
Spock seemed to be waiting for a response. "Sir." she said again.
"Lieutenant, do you have the necessary computer skills to restore the command program as the unit comes on line?"
With a sudden thump of dread, she realised exactly what he was getting at. Someone would have to stay by the communications station to gain control of the relay while someone else went, oh, dear god, went outside again to repair the broken circuits. Larssen wanted, more than she could ever remember wanting anything, to be the one who stayed inside. She took one shallow breath, exhaled.
"Sir, no, I don't. I do have my technicians level 4 certificate,
though." More than qualified to repair the remote circuits. She pulled herself to a sitting position, then to her feet, and took a tool kit from the wall locker Commander Spock had uncharacteristically left open. "I'll need a fix on the location of the break." she said as matter-of-factly as she could.
"The affected section is twenty feet from the entrance behind you."
Spock said, and of course his tone was matter-of-fact, though she thought she could hear a ragged edge to his voice. "Turn left,
staying close to the base wall, until you see the external filters for life support. The unit is approximately 5.4 feet from the filters,
directly away from the wall. The base communications system has relays external to the station. Communication should be possible, if interrupted."
"Yes, sir," she said. "Don't let the door lock behind me, sir."
The life support filters were relatively easy to find, in fact Larssen tripped over them. She took a breath, turned her back to the wall,
and began to count steps.
One. Was that a foot, or less than a foot?
Two. That didn't really count as a step, she had barely managed to bring her left leg level with her right.
Three. She couldn't see the wall behind her anymore, only snow, white snow, on every side. Wildly disoriented, she rocked, and knew she could not afford to move off track, or she would travel inch by aching inch out into the blizzard and be lost forever. She dropped to her knees and began to crawl.
Four. Nearly there. I want TWO baths! Larssen thought muzzily.
Maybe three!
Five. Something dark distinguishing itself from the snow. She reached one hand forward and touching something solid: a relay post,
hard and smooth and metal. As she brought her head closer to it she could hear the faint crackling in her ears resolve itself to Spock's voice.
"Lieutenant Larssen. Lieutenant Larssen. Lieutenant Larssen." he was saying, as patient as God.
"Yes." she answered.
"You were out of communication for more than ten minutes." he told her. "Oh." The information did not connect to anything useful in her head.
"Thank you, sir." she added vaguely, because the information had obviously meant something to him.
Larssen levered the access panel off the post and peered at the unit inside. "The slave relay - burnt out." she muttered. "Replacing -
sir."
It was a fiddly, tricky job and the gravitronic driver kept slipping out of her ham-fisted hands in their bulky gloves. The fourth time she had to grope for it in the snow Larssen dropped it back in her tool kit and slowly fumbled the mask away from her face. With her teeth, she unsnapped the fastening on her right glove and the bit down on the fingers and pulled her hand free.
Her hand ...
For a minute her mind went blank with screaming shock at the sight of her hand.
It didn't hurt, of course, of course not, she thought with the calm detached part of her that was not gibbering, the nerves froze long ago, long ago ...
"Lieutenant Larssen. Lieutenant Larssen." Commander Spock's calm voice returned her with a thud to her body, and Larssen realised that she was moaning softly.
"Hunnnhhh..." she managed. "Hunnnhhh."
"Our window of opportunity is closing."
"This -will - take - a little longer - than I thought." she said faintly.
"The task is time critical, Lieutenant. We do not have a little longer."
Go to hell, you pointy-eared green bastard. Larssen thought, but there was no heat to it. With her left hand, she rummaged in the tool kit and drew out a length of utility tape. "Yes, sir." she said, wrapping one end around her poor battered hand. Poor hand, she thought, as if were something apart from her. Poor, cold little hand, you did your best. Ridiculously, sentimental tears threatened to overwhelm her and she gulped.
Fall apart later, Corrina. Right now is time critical. Fall apart later.
She closed her mind to everything except the replacement of the slave relay.