Slingshot

A dozen kinds of incense drifted light on the air of the ship's hallways. The vision of emptiness unsettled everyone; on top of that, the roaring psychic echo of the Loss was still too strong for the empaths in the group, who went around with dulled voices and downcast eyes. There was still, and would long be, a great cloud of dust from the Battle of Vulcan and from the many Vulcan transport ships that had tried to leave. The cloud was speckled with small anomalies from the interaction of the distant collapsed black hole with bits of warp cores and fields, so the ship shuddered now and then as they bumped memories. Kirk (Sikar, he reminded himself, you are Sikar now) tried to leave no emotions jutting out for the upset to trip over.

"I was out here," one passer-by whispered to another. "All we could do was lock onto large groups and all we had was a cargo transporter. So many aboard were badly hurt from falling or rough transports. That huge ship didn't see us, so we got away, but barely."

"I wasn't sure she and the babies were alive until we unloaded on Earth four days later. There were so many, jammed in so tight, no one could move around to ask. That big inbound freighter took half of us on the second day so the injured could be helped, and they were on the other vessel. When I saw them, I admit I lost control."

"The cause was sufficient. I have never regained it. There was space, we could have taken more, but no time. The ship behind us tore in two and we could pick up only a fraction of those in their hold before it failed entirely."

Anyone who was left had a story, and they all seemed to be murmuring them at once, humans and Betazoids trying to comfort without being obvious. The only remaining Vulcan psychiatrist had tried to prepare them, but Davy was too valuable to bring along in the potentially dangerous slingshot; he was waiting back on the hospital ship with Bones. Kirk's heart ached for Sarek, who was outwardly calm and expressionless but still struggling, with no apparent way to help.

He was relieved when Spock settled on his right with the gentlest of bumps against him and put a hand to his back. Whatever happens, we have each other.

"Why is that such an instant relief?"

He felt Spock's instant of Huh? then the realization that it was another bit any Vulcan would have known, but humans would have no reason to guess. "That spot is directly over a nerve plexus. It works on all mammalian species and is considered publicly acceptable, especially when dealing with the wounded or small children."

"More important safety tips. You should have come with an owner's manual."

That got him the smirk and the eyebrow. "I am not the one who has so many allergies that Dr. McCoy exhausts his supply of painful things to do to you because he cannot remember which previous attempts caused the problem at hand."

"Touche. I'm still nervous about this whole thing. I know, you don't get nervous."

"Not at all." And I have learned to lie surprisingly well.

Ru came over to them, suppressing a grin because he sensed their mutual teasing. "Captain, er, Sikar, several of these healers would like to hear our experiences with slingshot travel."

A dozen doctors, medics and nurses had followed him. Talking about the profound confusion and disorientation they were about to run into shouldn't have helped them, but Sikar was very much aware it did. The small crowd listened attentively when he described the need to keep from falling. Those who hadn't already knelt in a safe place decided to do so even before Ru suggested it.

"I know you're all volunteers, but in my experience this is an ugly way to time-travel. The Guardian is much, much easier, but while it would work very well for busloads of healthy people going to view a historic event, it is not suited for the number of unconscious patients we would have to carry through on this mission without being detected. I'll give you a countdown. Those who can enter a deep meditative state may find it useful to do so by the time I call ten seconds. Either kneel here in the hallway and hold onto the viewscreen sill, or lie down to avoid falling. The effects are terrible, but generally perceived as the length of a single breath. You should recover your ability to think within one to three seconds after we break out. You will be violently dizzy for a few minutes after. I'm wearing a space sickness patch and will be strapped into the command chair so there should be no interruption in control of the ship once we exit the temporal displacement." He went up the few steps to the command pod and called back "One minute."

"Ru has done this so often," Sarek said, kneeling with them and holding onto the sill, "that we could not be in better hands." No one pretended he wasn't trying to convince himself.

"Thirty seconds."

Sikar (I am not Kirk, don't even think it, someone might hear) put his hand flat on Spock's back in the comforting spot between the shoulderblades. The healers had taught him it worked on Vulcans of any age. On impulse, he reached over and did the same to Sarek, who registered a blip of astonishment before he, too, relaxed and felt grateful under Sikar's palm.

"Fifteen seconds." We've done this several times, sa'mi. It's awful but it's over very quickly. He tried to focus on the mantra John had suggested when he had been fresh out of the Academy hospital with a hammering head full of chaos. Peace, be still. Peace, be still.

"Ten seconds." The three of them were in a loop, the Vulcans with their lifetime of meditative practice, world locked out; peace, it would be tolerable, peace, it would work, peace, it would be

a Dali painting swirls of color dimmed light becoming taste becoming feeling becoming sound that rent the universe spinning fragments conversations broken worlds screaming fire ice earth water air crushing pressure nothing it was

all right. He waited for his vision to clear and the lurching in his inner ears to stop, and felt the Vulcans do the same, both undamaged. He rolled his weight back to the balls of his feet and got up in his best imitation of their fluid motion. Everyone else seemed to have the same idea, to stand in order to be sure they could, to look around for casualties.

"All teams report," the captain said crisply. He had to admire Ru's ability to act unruffled, because he knew how long it took the Enterprise crew to crawl back into chairs and not throw up on one another. The effect, Spock had assured him, was much worse for Vulcans, who didn't take well to having reality distorted; he could feel their minds leaning on his to reorient even as their bodies simultaneously leaned on and supported his. He remembered where the anti-nausea point was in their wrists and took one in each hand, being very careful with Sarek's that had been broken too often.

All healers reported no injuries. Sarek added, under his breath, "Yes, that helped."

"Sikar, you are most useful," Spock said as he stopped swallowing painfully.

"That's why you always argue with Dr. McCoy about painkillers, isn't it?"

He nodded, still looking a little off-color. "I had to explain to him that dealing with some pain is vastly preferable to feeling disconnected and having so little control. We will encounter that choice."

"We will make one full orbit before the first insertion," Ru announced. "Mostly so we can all regain our bearings. Preliminary results, less than one-thousandth of a second off target. We will make the excuse that we need to verify the actual situation with the projection. Team One has approximately thirty-three minutes to get over that. The rest of you check your equipment and most of all drink water. Some of you haven't been in the desert for a long time. Let me refresh your memories of your kahs-wan, except this time there will be soldiers along with the usual plants and animals trying to kill you."

"Thank you ever so little," Sikar muttered.

"If you have not been under live fire before, you will not relish the experience when the heavy starts flying and it is, as you saw in the vids. Whatever you say or do may surprise you. Don't take it as an indictment of your character or, if you repress, control. War is not healthy and what you say or do about it may not be either. This is also your final reminder to take enough water for your own use as well as for the wounded. Teams seven, eighteen and twenty-one will not repeat will not have access to potable water on surface. You have an extra slave to carry your containers. Teams nine, ten and fifteen will have ample water available so take extra empty containers and distribute what you can. Twenty-three, you have your extra team member to carry the cloaking device. You will need it operating immediately on arrival. Hostiles will be less than one kilometer from your TZ. Reserve teams twenty-six, twenty-seven and twenty-eight, emergency response as agreed. Team One, your special arrangements are made, sa'mi?"

"Yes," Solkar said to the comm, then more quietly to the rest of them: "Mestral's carrying what I could get myself in trouble with and he'll hand me only what I need only when I need it."

"And if he gives Mestral any grief," added Lhairre, "I'll flatten him."

Solkar's mouth twitched to hint a smile. "Elek!" As if. Team One laid out their bags on the table, making the last check on the kits that masqueraded as desert packs. Watching them make the calm survey gave Kirk some hope that he would be able to do the same.

Mestral, Solkar and Lhairre packed away their materials, slung on the kits and went to stand on the transporter pad. "Teams One and Two, insertion point approaching. Ready?"

"Ready all." They disappeared.

"Team Three and Four, thirty seconds." They were at the pad and prepared. "Five and Six." They, too, went off. "Seven and Eight." They went as the last of the battlefield passed out of transporter range. Kirk (Sikar, Sikar, remember, down there no one is named Kirk) laid out their packs, checked one more time, rolled them again. They slung them diagonally across their backs and went to watch the formerly ordinary sight of T'Khasi turning below them in a way it never would again. Sarek pointed out familiar landmarks as they spun into night, the stony heights of Gol, the all but burnt-dry ocean that divided the two most frequently hostile nations, the peaceful high mountains with farms tucked away where glaciers had once been. He did not mention the triangle of battlefield, the flickering muzzle flashes from the Golic artillery pounding the lines near ShiKahr or the brighter flares from Kiri air-dropped bombing runs pummeling the main roads in the Forge.

The far side of the planet was already bone-dry and not heavily settled; it was in full sunlight, while the other side was completely dark with T'Kuht at apogee. Before long, they completed the full orbit and saw the great glowing spike of Seleya turning to meet them as the ship rounded into planetary night. "Teams Nine and Ten." They assumed their positions, and in a gentle stirring of electrons they feathered onto the planet that was no more but would always be.