IMPORTANT NOTE: If you read the previous chapter prior to February 16th, 2023, you might want to read it again. I rewrote it.

Chapter Five

"Modulating sonar coming in on all frequencies, Sir."

Kirk was speaking into the intercom built into the captain's chair but paused, swiveling to face the communication station. "Are they trying to make contact?"

"Not a form that I recognize." Uhura looked puzzled. "Reminds me of echolocation, like they are reading us through return sound waves."

"Like Terran bats," Kirk muttered, realizing that the Enterprise was, in effect, being scanned. But what were they looking for? Weapons? Power source?

He tilted his face toward the intercom again. "Did you hear that, Scotty?"

"Aye, Capt'n. More like bloody flying rats, if'n you ask me."

"Go ahead with changing the shields over to a pulsating electrical pattern," Kirk continued. "It might confuse them long enough to get the repairs made. But have your people suit up in safety gear first. If we're being scanned, it could mean another attack."

"Aye, Capt'n," Scotty said, sounding grim. They hadn't lost anyone during the hull breach, but it had been close. Real close.

Kirk hit a switch on the intercom.

"Kirk to Critical Care Ward."

"McCoy here."

"How's Spock?" he asked. "Is he conscious?"

"We just got him strapped down. I was about to administer the wake-up cocktail."

"Do it. I'm on my way." Kirk killed the connection and stood. "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn. Lieutenant—" he looked at Uhura "—alert me if there are any changes to the sonar readings. I'll be in Sick Bay."

"Aye, Sir."

Kirk's apprehension grew as the turbo-lift descended. Already he felt too far from the bridge, but he had to learn what Spock knew. Any scrap of data—especially with an enemy who could slip beneath their shields—could mean the difference between life and death. Doubly so after Scotty had informed him they'd lost warp drive. The chief engineer had estimated the repair to the portside nacelle to take about four hours.

Four hours, Kirk repeated to himself. How the hell were they going to survive if they were attacked? They couldn't fight—despite what he'd told McCoy, the ships were too small and fast for either photon torpedoes or phasers. They couldn't defend themselves, and they couldn't run.

Kirk walked into the Critical Care Ward and saw McCoy leaning over Spock with a silver, cone-shaped device in one hand and a specialized scanner in the other.

"He's coming around now." McCoy answered Kirk's silent question without looking up from the scanner. "Cortisol is still a little high . . ." He'd mumbled the last part to himself before shaking his head once as though resigning himself to the situation. "He's secured, Jim, but don't get too close. I've never had a need to test these maximum restraints before. I still can't believe we're using them on Spock, of all people."

With a mixture of curiosity and stubbornness, Kirk held his ground next to the bed. Soon the Vulcan's eyes began to flutter. Kirk leaned forward slightly. "Spock? Can you hear me?"

With frightening speed, the commander's body arched off the bed, heels and shoulders pressing into the mattress. The pressure-sensitive restraints whirred and grated as they drew tight across the Vulcan's body, struggling to drag it back down. Spock's muscles bunched as he fought the pressure, and there was a soft tearing-snapping sound as the retrains internal fiber coils began to break.

"Get back, Jim! He's out of control!" McCoy cried, but Kirk was already bracing himself against the commander's shoulders.

"Spock, stop!" Kirk shouted. "Stop it!"

McCoy lunged forward with a hypospray, but Kirk shook his head. "No!" he grunted, adding more of his weight for leverage. "We need him awake."

"Damn it, J—"

Spock's body lifted another fraction, and Kirk felt his feet leave the deck. Taking a gamble, he quickly repositioned his arms so he could press a hand to the Vulcan's face.

Spock, stop fighting! Kirk didn't know if a human could initiate telepathic communication, but he mentally projected an image of himself along with the command. It's your friend! Jim! Stop fighting me!

Spock's eyes darted around the room wildly until they settled on the captain's face. A second passed and then comprehension dawned in those dark eyes. Spock's rigid frame immediately relaxed and he sank back onto the mattress.

"Jmm."

The commander's voice was difficult to understand, but Kirk grinned as he recognized his name. Knowing that continued physical contact was not needed, would even prove uncomfortable for his friend, Kirk pulled his hand away and straightened.

"Spock. Welcome back," he acknowledged, adjusting his shirt so that it wasn't riding up on his chest. Those aliens," Kirk continued, more urgently. "Can they still read your thoughts?"

Spock shook his head and Kirk nodded. "Good. You said that they were searching your thoughts, do you know what they were looking for? Were they able to access classified materials? Weapons information?"

It was obvious that Spock had difficulty forming words, because he shook his head in another negative.

"Do you know what they want?"

Spock's mouth twisted. "Pa-ain."

"You're in pain? Bones, can you—" Spock snapped his head back and forth.

"No'mee. Fix pain."

"Not you." Kirk's frustration grew. "Then who? Whose pain, Spock? Their pain? They want us to fix their pain?"

The frustration was also plain to see on the Vulcan's face, and he shuddered with the effort to speak. "They sense pain, tele-telepathically. They are here for . . . "

Kirk's eyes narrowed. "Who? Who do they want?"

Unable to continue speaking, Spock rolled his head to the side so that he was facing the bed next to him. Kirk followed his gaze and instantly felt confused.

"Maggie?" he asked. "They want Maggie?"

"Can they sense her, Spock? Is she in pain? Is my baby suffering?" McCoy's voice was loud and gruff with emotion. He stepped up next to Spock's bed, gripping the railing so tightly that his knuckles turned bone white. And then in a pleading voice, he asked, "Can they really help her, Spock? Can they "fix" her?"

Spock's dark eyes filled with compassion, and Kirk knew the answer before the Vulcan spoke. "No, doctor," he panted. "They do fix but it's not our concept of healing. We must take her to-to—"

A burst of earsplitting static erupted from the intercom speakers, and then Uhura's voice was filling the room. She was speaking so fast that the words nearly merged together.

"Captain! The alien ships are increasing the intensity of sonar, penetrating the ship in a grid formation. They—"

A high pitched whine that did not come from the intercom started to build within the room. Kirk grunted in pain and hit the release button on Spock's restraints before pressing his hands over his ears. Tears streamed from his eyes—it felt like phaser blasts to the eardrums. He caught sight of McCoy bending over Maggie, pressing his palms against either side of her head. Blood was already trickling from one of his ears, the eardrum having already burst.

Kirk watched as the air around Maggie started to shimmer, like heat waves rolling off perma-crete sidewalks on a hot day. And then the air gave a violent roll that

knocked Bones backward several feet. The whine rose to a fevered pitch, like an engine being dangerously overworked, and just as Kirk thought he was going to pass out, Maggie's body blinked out of existence.

Silence crashed around them with its own unique harshness.

Kirk stared in horror at the biobed where Maggie had lain, watched as McCoy's fingers clawed away the sheets, as though she'd somehow sunk into the mattress. The only sign that the young doctor had ever been there was a faint impression of her form on the mattress and the nutrition tube where it had fallen on the pillow.

Like an ill-spoken prophecy, all the life function monitors above the bed zeroed out.

"Maggie? Maggie! Maggie!"

Kirk's world remained silent. He was reading McCoy's lips, knew the man was screaming from the way the tendons were standing out on his neck. Unable to bear witness to his friend's grief, Kirk stumbled to the intercom on the far wall. He pressed the button. No response.

No, that's not right. His brain felt sluggish as he tried to process everything that happened. The intercom should be fine. He just couldn't hear it. In frustration, Kirk struck the side of his head then flexed his jaw. With a painful pop, his ears cleared, and a part of him immediately wished they hadn't. McCoy's wail was a gut-wrenching sound that spurred Kirk into action. He punched the intercom button.

"Uhura?"

"Here, Captain."

"Connect to this intercom and open to all hailing frequencies" he said in a hoarse voice. Then added, "Set the universal translator to include sonar variations."

"All set, Captain. Go ahead."

"Attention alien vessels," he began. "This is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation ship U.S.S. Enterprise. We are a peaceful people on a mission of exploration. However, we perceive your recent activity as hostile. You have attacked our ship; you have taken one of our people. Return our crewmember and cease further probing. If you refuse, there will be consequences."

Kirk ended the transmission and pressed his forehead against the wall. He sensed movement behind him and lifted his head. "Spock," he acknowledged. "How you doing?"

"I seem to be back to normal, Sir."

"Good." Kirk glanced back at McCoy. The doctor had fallen eerily silent, his thin frame slumped over the bed. He turned back to Spock. "Now tell me everything you know about these fuckers, because I'm bluffing out my ass and I'm all outta ideas."

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