Chapter 4: U.S.S. Enterprise
The lift gently deposited Pike and Buffy onto the bridge, eliciting a surge of anticipation and excitement within their hearts. Buffy swiftly made her way toward her designated station, her determination evident in her every step. Meanwhile, Pike gravitated towards the command seat, settling into it with a mix of authority and trepidation. The atmosphere hummed with readiness as Spock's voice resonated through the air.
"All decks report ready for launch, Captain," Spock relayed dutifully, his words carrying a subtle undercurrent of respect and loyalty.
"Very well." Pike nodded, acknowledging the report with a composed demeanor. His gaze drifted towards the helm. "Set course for…" he began intending to issue the order to head to Vulcan. However, his words were abruptly snatched away by the parting lift doors, revealing the entrance of Dawn. A surge of emotions washed over Pike as his eyes met Dawn's swift approach.
"Captain, my transfer orders," Dawn hurriedly announced, her voice tinged with a mix of purpose and anticipation. She extended one of the two PADDs towards Pike, her eyes conveying the weight of the imminent change. "I am being assigned as your ship's counselor. An experimental position. I will also serve as the assistant chief medical officer. Additionally, I have orders concerning Buffy."
With an air of solemnity, Dawn handed the second PADD to the captain, signifying its significance. Pike's eyes scanned the contents of both PADDs, his mind absorbing the gravity of the classified information contained within. The weight of the moment settled upon him, akin to a heavy burden shared only by a select few.
"Effective immediately, Lieutenant Buffy Summers has been activated under Section 10 regulations," Dawn revealed, her voice carrying a blend of intrigue and caution. "Her Starfleet file, much like mine, has been deemed classified at the highest echelons of Starfleet. Only you, as our commanding officer, your chief medical officer, and the Admiralty possess access to our full files. I suggest perusing my comprehensive file at your earliest convenience; it's quite the revelation."
Pike's eyes lifted, meeting Dawn's unwavering gaze. "I presume that includes an explanation of your continued existence?"
Dawn nodded, her expression holding a hint of enigma. "Indeed, it does. However, I believe it would be prudent to postpone that discussion for now. We do have a mission to embark upon," she gently reminded him, preempting a torrent of inquiries that threatened to overflow.
"You are absolutely right, Commander," Pike conceded, a mixture of respect and curiosity seeping into his tone. "Why don't you take a seat next to your sister?" He gestured towards the vacant spot beside Buffy. "Set the course for Vulcan."
The lieutenant at the helm control responded promptly, a sense of purpose underlying his words. "Course laid in, Captain," he confirmed as Dawn gracefully shifted to the console adjacent to Buffy, sinking into the seat with a blend of familiarity and readiness.
"Engage at maximum warp," Pike commanded, his voice carrying a hint of intensity. "Punch it."
Yet, as Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu's fingers glided over the helm controls, a disconcerting stillness fell over the bridge. Pike's brow furrowed ever so slightly, his concern betraying his otherwise composed demeanor. "Something the matter, Lieutenant?"
Sulu's voice quivered with a mix of uncertainty and frustration. "I'm not certain, Captain. I..." The hesitation hung in the air, thick with the weight of unresolved issues.
Pike's gaze sharpened, his instinct for swift action overriding any hesitation. "Where is Helmsman McKenna?" His inquiry carried a tinge of urgency, reflecting the simmering tension that enveloped the bridge.
The words escaped Sulu's lips with a hint of unease, his voice trembling slightly. "Uh, he has lungworms, sir," he explained, his discomfort palpable. "He'll be fine, but he was unable to report for duty. I'm Hikaru Sulu."
Pike's lips formed a tight line, revealing a mixture of concern and disappointment. "And you are a pilot, correct?" he inquired, his tone tinged with a trace of skepticism.
The lieutenant visibly straightened, a flicker of determination lighting up his eyes. "Very much so, sir." Sulu's gaze darted anxiously over the helm console. " I'm not sure what's wrong here..."
Dawn, attuned to the emotional currents around her thanks to her empathic powers, sensed Sulu's growing distress. Rising from her seat, she approached him with a reassuring presence. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, she offered solace in her touch. "It's alright," she assured him, her voice a soothing balm. Her eyes scanned the console, then she nodded, whispering something in Sulu's ear.
Sulu's gaze shifted towards a small readout on the side of the main monitor, a suggestion from Dawn that sparked a flicker of realization within him. His fingers moved deftly, skillfully rectifying his previous oversight. Filled with a sense of humility, he redirected his attention forward. "Ready for warp... sir."
A warm smile graced Dawn's features as she returned to her seat, a silent acknowledgment of Sulu's quick adjustment and newfound confidence.
"The dock control confirms readiness for our departure," the communications officer chimed in.
Pike nodded, his gaze sweeping across the bridge, his eyes locking with each member of his crew in a silent connection. He sought to convey trust and camaraderie through his searching gaze. "Many of you have stood by my side in the past," he began, his voice carrying a blend of gratitude and determination. "To those who have not served with me previously or are new to duty I extend a hearty welcome. And to those of you who are new to duty my apologies for the haste with which you have been called into active service. Circumstances dictate speed. Stars and galaxies whirl through space at sometimes unimaginable velocities. On such an occasion Starfleet can do no less."
The weight of significance hung heavy in Pike's words; each syllable infused with a deep sense of longing. "Certainly, the maiden voyage of our newest flagship deserves more pomp and circumstance than we can afford today," he acknowledged, a tinge of regret mingling with his pride. "Its christening will have to be our reward for a safe return. I know that every man, woman, and other will do their duty." His voice swelled with a profound sense of honor. " You are the best that the Academy and Starfleet can produce. I am proud to serve with you and I hope you will not find me wanting in command."
Leaning forward, Pike engaged the ship's intercom, his words resonating throughout every deck. "All decks, this is Captain Pike. Final preparations should be completed and all hands at flight stations. Prepare for immediate departure." His gaze lingered once more upon the helm, an unspoken trust passing between them. "Now then, Mister Sulu, let's—punch it."
In a surge of motion, the Enterprise surged forward, a blaze of light amidst the fleet of accompanying vessels. The stars streaked past as they delved into the ethereal expanse of warp space, their vessel pulsating with anticipation and purpose.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
As the Enterprise hurtled through space at maximum warp, a sense of urgency hung in the air, matching the intensity of the emotions swirling within the crew. Sulu's voice rang out, steady and determined, as he reported the status of the ship's engines. "Engines at maximum warp, Captain," he said, the weight of their mission evident in his tone.
Pike nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze shifting to the impassive figure of Spock at his side. "Mister Spock, see that all departments receive the full details of the Vulcan transmission so that they can organize their sections accordingly," he instructed, the gravity of the situation reflected in his voice. "Let's give them a condensed version first. It'll have more impact if it comes from... What's the name of that whiz kid? Chanko? Cherpov?"
A slender hand rose from the navigator's station, and the young ensign, Pavel Andreievich Chekov, eagerly volunteered, his face determined. "Chekov, sir. Pavel Andreievich," he clarified, his voice holding a mixture of eagerness and nervousness.
Pike acknowledged the identification with a nod, his expression appreciative. "Right—Chekov," he said, emphasizing the name. "You are familiar with the details of the Vulcan transmission, Mister Chekov?"
Chekov's response was swift, his enthusiasm evident as he replied, "Yes, sir, I have it memorized completely."
The captain's indulgent smile reflected his admiration for the young ensign's dedication. "Very commendable, Mister Chekov," Pike praised. "Can you please provide a verbal summary for the crew?"
Chekov's voice trembled with a mix of nerves and determination as he addressed the integrated pickup. The weight of his responsibility as an ensign tasked with briefing the entire crew hung heavily on his young shoulders. "Chekov, Pavel A. Ensign, authorization code nine-five-wiktor-wiktor-two," he spoke with urgency, hoping his words would be recognized.
The computer's prompt response made his heart race. "Authorization not recognized—please try again. Speak clearly and distinctly," the automated voice instructed.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and tried again, "Nine-five-victor-victor-two."
Finally, the computer granted him access. "Access granted. Ensign Chekov, you are recognized."
Chekov's face appeared on every active monitor throughout the ship, his image projected across the vastness of the Enterprise. His eyes locked onto the camera, addressing the entire crew with a sense of awe and responsibility. "Activate intraship communications. All channels," he commanded, his voice gaining strength.
His face now visible to everyone, Chekov mustered the courage to deliver the critical information. "Your attention, please," he said, his voice projected across the ship's intercom. "This is Ensign Pavel Chekov speaking to you from the bridge. The captain has asked me to brief you on our rescue mission."
The gravity of the situation was palpable, and Chekov's voice quivered with emotion as he continued, "At twenty-two hundred hours, long-range sensors detected an energy surge of astronomical proportions in the Vulcan quadrant of Federation space. It was described as 'a lightning storm in space.'"
As Chekov continued his briefing, Dawn's mind was flooded with memories of the past. Her thoughts raced back to the day of Buffy's arrival in this time period, a day that had forever altered the course of their lives. It was the same day she had been stationed on the U.S.S. Kelvin, and her heart clenched with the haunting recollection of a lightning storm in space—the precursor to a devastating Romulan attack that had led to the Kelvin's destruction.
Buffy sensed the sudden change in her sister's demeanor and whispered in concern, "What is it, Dawn?"
Drawing a shaky breath, Dawn shared the haunting connection she had just made, her voice laced with emotion. "The day of your arrival in this time period, there was a lightning storm in space," she revealed, the memories of that tragic day etched vividly in her mind.
Chekov's briefing continued, adding to the sense of urgency and apprehension that filled the bridge. His words carried the weight of impending disaster as he spoke of the seismic sensors' predictions of massive tectonic shifts on Vulcan's surface. The very thought of such catastrophic events unfolding on the peaceful planet sent shivers down Dawn's spine.
"As there were and still are no known stellar phenomena in the area capable of producing such a surge on such short notice, this eruption immediately attracted the attention of a broad spectrum of Federation scientists," Chekov stated, his voice tense with concern. "Soon after, Starfleet Command decoded a distress signal from the Vulcan High Council declaring that seismic sensors situated across the entire surface of the planet were predicting massive tectonic shifts within the planetary crust that could trigger immense earthquakes and unprecedented volcanic activity."
Chekov cleared his throat, his next words carrying the weight of responsibility. "Our mission is to confirm the tectonic shifts with an eye toward possible interdiction of dangerous continental plate movement, and to be prepared to assist in evacuations should the need arise." The gravity of their task was evident in his voice, and the entire crew absorbed the magnitude of their mission.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Kirk burst onto the bridge and rushed toward the command chair. His voice brimming with urgency, he called out to Captain Pike, "Captain Pike! The energy surge near Vulcan…!"
A startled Pike stared at Kirk in disbelief. The presence of the young cadet on the bridge was unexpected and perplexing. "Cadet Kirk? How did you…?"
The lift disgorged McCoy and Uhura, their expressions a mixture of concern and explanation. McCoy stepped forward, taking responsibility for Kirk's presence. "It's my fault, sir," he admitted with a touch of remorse. "I brought him aboard. At the time, I felt it would be a harmless and unnoticed subterfuge. Given the Red Alert situation, I thought Starfleet could use every available hand. I gave him a—"
Pike broke in tellingly, his gaze piercing and unwavering. "I don't want to know how; I want to know why." His voice was firm and commanding. "Not why you're on board, but why you're standing here in front of me right now, looking like someone who just met himself coming. And," he added in a low, dangerous voice, "it better be good."
Dawn, sensing the tension in the air, stood from her console and slowly moved toward Pike, her expression resolute. "I think I understand why he came to the bridge," she said calmly, her voice carrying a note of authority. Buffy, equally determined, stood beside her. "Captain, I did not have the chance to review the Vulcan transmission before I came aboard. When Ensign Chekov mentioned a lightning storm in space, I knew what he was talking about, for I've seen it twice before. The first time in Sunnydale, California, the second time when I was assigned to the USS Kelvin. The lightning storm in space heralded the arrival of a Romulan ship."
Buffy chimed in; her tone somber as she recalled the past. "You know of what she's talking about. The day of my arrival."
"That ship, which had formidable and advanced weaponry, was never seen or heard from again. The Kelvin attack took place on the edge of Klingon space," Kirk added, his voice steady and filled with a sense of urgency. "And at twenty-three hundred hours last night, there was an attack; forty-seven Klingon warbirds were destroyed by Romulans, sir. And it was reported that the Romulans were in one ship, one massive ship."
Pike's expression darkened to match his tone. The gravity of the situation was sinking in. "And you know of the Klingon attack how?"
All eyes turned immediately to Uhura, who stepped forward with unwavering resolve. "Sir, I intercepted and translated the message myself. Kirk's report is accurate."
Kirk moved closer to the captain; his determination unwavering. "We're warping into a trap, sir. The Romulans are waiting for us, I promise you that."
Buffy, standing beside Dawn, met Pike's gaze directly, her words carrying the weight of her experience as a Slayer. "As your chief of security, I have to agree. If that lightning storm in space is related to the ship on the day of my arrival, we are walking into a trap."
Pike considered Buffy's counsel carefully. He knew that the safety of his crew and the potential threat to Vulcan were at stake. Turning to the communications officer, he issued a direct order, "Scan Vulcan space. Check for any transmissions in Romulan."
"Sir, I'm not sure I can distinguish the Romulan language from Vulcan," the communications officer admitted with a hint of uncertainty.
Pike turned to Uhura, his expression expectant. "What about you? Can you speak Romulan, Cadet…"
"Uhura. All three dialects, sir," Uhura answered confidently as Dawn and Buffy returned to their stations, their presence a reassuring anchor for the bridge crew.
Pike nodded; his decision clear. "Uhura, relieve the lieutenant."
"Yes, sir," Uhura acknowledged, stepping forward to take over the task of intercepting and translating any Romulan transmissions.
Silence enveloped the bridge as Pike deliberated, his mind racing to make the right decisions in the face of this escalating crisis. After a moment of contemplation, he turned toward Uhura with a determined expression. "Hail Captain Alexander aboard the Newton."
"Sir, our hail's not getting through," Uhura reported with a hint of frustration in her voice. "We're being blocked by some kind of subspace interference." Her fingers moved swiftly across the console in front of her. "I can try to analyze the—"
Pike, aware of the urgency of the situation, cut her off. He sat up straight in the command chair, his expression resolute. "Never mind that now. Try the Excelsior."
Uhura complied, attempting several other routings before leaning back in her chair. Her voice held a note of concern as she delivered the grim news. "Nothing, sir. In fact, I can't make contact with any of the fleet."
Kirk, ever the astute observer, chimed in with a theory born from his experience. " 'Subspace interference' my ass," he muttered. "Given the reality of what's likely a fake planetary distress call, I'd hardly be surprised to discover that someone or something is deliberately interfering with Starfleet communications. Sounds to me like our signal is being blocked."
Pike considered Kirk's words carefully, his mind racing to find a solution to this mounting crisis. "We need to refine communications power in order to be able to warn the other ships of what we've discovered."
Sulu, always the practical thinker, offered his input. "Sir," he began, "for that, we'd have to drop out of warp so that our signal incurs no distortion from post-lightspeed motion."
"Understood," Pike declared finally, his voice resolute. "Emergency stop."
Sulu, at his console, leaned forward with purpose. "Emergency stop, aye!"
With the swift execution of their orders, the six lines of subspace stretching from Sol to Vulcan abruptly became five as the Enterprise dropped out of warp. The transition was stark; no stars burned in the ship's immediate vicinity, and no planets gleamed nearby. The ship was very much alone in the cold expanse of space.
Pike turned to Uhura; his tone urgent. "Hail those ships, Cadet. Now."
Uhura's fingers moved with precision as she adjusted the instrumentation, attenuating relevant frequencies to increase power for the transmission. The tension on the bridge was palpable as everyone waited for a response, their hopes riding on this crucial moment.
But when the response finally came, it was neither what was hoped for nor what was expected. Unrecognizable pings and strange electronic stutters filled the airwaves, as if somewhere, a transmitter was crying out in emptiness.
Kirk stared at Uhura, silently trying to encourage a response that was not forthcoming. "Come on, come on, come on."
Uhura waved a hand in his direction. "Kirk, quiet! I've channeled all communications strength into a narrow stream of encrypted information, and the ship is working to send it now." Her other hand worked the console in front of her. "Opening a channel." There was a stir on the bridge as everyone seemed to lean in her direction. At last she announced, "Channel open, sir. If you would like to try and make conta—"
Pike was speaking before she could finish. "This is Captain Christopher Pike of the U.S.S. Enterprise. All ships be advised: possibility of hostile Romulan presence in vicinity of Vulcan. Until presumed emergency situation is further clarified, recommend full shields and weapons systems at standby."
"Message sent, sir," Uhura reported.
They waited for a response. And waited. The tension in the bridge grew thicker with each passing moment, and it was Sulu who eventually felt compelled to report aloud for the official record. "No response, sir," he said solemnly. "From... any ship."
Pike's fingers drummed fretfully on the armrest of the command chair, his mind racing to find a solution to their communication blackout. He turned to Spock for an update. "What's the fleet's ETA to Vulcan orbit?"
Spock checked his readouts with precision. "They should be preparing to drop out of warp now, Captain."
Pike nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze shifting to Buffy. "Tactical on screen. Display their automated transponder signals. Those, at least, should be strong and clear enough to penetrate any two-way interference."
Buffy's hands deftly manipulated the instrumentation, and in response, a quintet of glowing blue dots appeared on the forward main viewscreen. Each dot was accompanied by a ship name—Armstrong, Defiant, Newton, Mayflower, Excelsior. The attention of everyone on the bridge was fixed on these dots as they moved into the Vulcan system, their progress monitored with bated breath.
Spock, ever the vigilant officer, continued to monitor his instruments. "The fleet has dropped out of warp."
Then, a moment passed, then another, and another. The dots had slowed significantly, but they remained exactly where they should be. A collective sigh of relief began to fill the air, and McCoy, leaning close to his friend, couldn't help but express his relief in a hushed tone. "See? They're there. They've arrived. I shouldn't have just given you a dose of mud flea vaccine—I should've put you under general anesthetic. It would have been better than—"
"Bones," Kirk interrupted, his eyes still fixed on the forward monitor. "Wait."
It was then that the tension returned, as one of the blue dots vanished from the screen.
"Captain, we're receiving a transmission on the distress frequency," Uhura reported, her fingers flying over her console in an attempt to stabilize the signal. "I can't get—Wait, something's coming through. I'm acquiring only intermittent bits of contact, nothing complete."
Pike's expression remained grim as he leaned forward, his determination unwavering. "Let me hear whatever you've got."
Uhura transferred all incoming transmissions to the bridge speakers. None of it was clear, but the distressing nature of the messages was unmistakable. The bridge was filled with bursts of screaming voices, cries of despair, and orders underscored by hopelessness. The crackling, static-marred bursts of discontinuous distress were accompanied by the quiet disappearance of another blue dot from the viewscreen.
Spock, in his typically dispassionate tone, delivered the chilling update. "There are only four ships remaining. Now three…"
Pike's voice reverberated throughout the bridge as he issued a decisive order. He turned to Buffy. "Red Alert!" She nodded in acknowledgment. "Ready all weapons." His gaze shifted to the helm. "Mister Sulu, get us to Vulcan now—maximum warp!"
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"Arrival at Vulcan in five seconds," Sulu reported calmly, counting down the moments. "Four, three, two..."
But before Sulu could complete the countdown, Pike's urgent command shattered the brief calm. "Evasive!"
Sulu's response was immediate and resolute. "ON IT, SIR!"
The captain's command was barely necessary. With the Enterprise having dropped out of warp directly in front of the flaring, disintegrating remains of the Defiant, Sulu had reacted with lightning speed to avoid a catastrophic collision. The ship was wrenched sideways on impulse power, causing a momentary shudder, but it quickly steadied itself.
As the Enterprise settled into orbit around Vulcan, chaos reigned in the star system. The two remaining ships of the fleet were locked in a desperate and losing battle against a gargantuan craft that was utterly unfamiliar to everyone except Dawn.
"The Romulans," Dawn informed Pike with a heavy tone of foreboding. "We have nothing that will penetrate their defensive field."
"No identifiable registry on the ship. It's massive. Energy signatures, deployed weapons systems, design—all unknown," Spock added, his analytical assessment confirming the magnitude of the threat they faced.
Pike's sense of urgency grew as he issued another command. "Get Starfleet Command on subspace!"
Uhura responded immediately, but her report was disheartening. "Negative! All out-system transmissions are subject to severe interruption emanating from the vicinity of Vulcan. And there's something else, sir. I think I've located the source of the general interference. I detect the signature—very advanced, but identifiable—of a plasma drill operating in the atmosphere."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Isolated flares of combustion continued to be extinguished one after another as the Enterprise's crew struggled to survive and fight back against the relentless assault.
"Shields at thirty-three percent," Buffy reported, her voice filled with urgency. "Their weapons are more powerful than anything I've ever seen, Pike! Delivery mechanism is not unfamiliar but the explosive force is unprecedented. None of our torpedoes have that kind of focused energy, and we don't seem to be able to penetrate their shields with our own weapons, as Dawn warned. We can't take another hit like that!"
The perilous situation left Pike with little choice. "Get me Starfleet Command!" he ordered, his determination unwavering.
But Spock interjected before Uhura could reply, his voice calm and analytical. "Captain, the Romulan ship has lowered some kind of enormous high-energy-pulse device into the Vulcan atmosphere. Its output appears to be blocking our communications and transporter abilities."
Pike knew that they had to keep fighting despite the odds. "All power to forward shields! Continue evasive, Mister Sulu!" He turned to Buffy; his eyes filled with resolve. "Prepare to fire all weapons anew. They have to have a weak spot!"
Dawn's sobering words served as a reminder of the formidable adversary they faced. "It won't do no good," she informed her sister. "Even the Kelvin blowing up in their face did little damage apparently."
As the crew grappled with the dire situation, Uhura's call interrupted their thoughts. "Captain, the commander of the hostile ship is hailing us!" Her voice conveyed both anticipation and uncertainty.
Chekov, at his station, was equally puzzled by the development. "How are they cutting through the blanketing interference?" he wondered aloud.
Kirk, always inquisitive, added his own question. "How are they drilling through the planet?"
But Pike had no time for casual speculation. He issued a direct order to Uhura. "On-screen."
Uhura swiftly complied with Pike's order, and the forward monitor cleared instantly. The image that materialized on the screen left no room for doubt regarding the identity of the Romulan commander they were dealing with. He was unmistakably Romulan in appearance, his demeanor calm and composed, and his tone carried an unusual touch of cordiality.
"Your valor does you great honor, Captain, and the skill of your crew surpasses, however uselessly, any that has preceded it," the Romulan commander remarked, his words laced with a mix of respect and condescension.
Pike, less inclined to engage in convivial exchanges, got straight to the point. "To whom am I speaking?"
The Romulan introduced himself, though his formal designation was a challenge for human vocal cords. "My formal designation is Ŏ'ŗên, with an accent and syllabic stress that is difficult for the human larynx to deal with. As is not uncommon, reversing and softening the entire process yields a name you can pronounce. Address me as Nero."
Pike, aware of the gravity of the situation, attempted diplomacy. "By your actions, you've declared war against the entire Federation. Withdraw without further hostilities, and I'll agree to arrange a conference with the Romulan leadership at a neutral loca—"
Nero's reaction to Pike's reasoned offer was unexpectedly violent, his demeanor shifting from cordiality to hostility in an instant. "I do not speak for the Empire! We stand apart," he declared defiantly. Nero's eyes wandered as he utilized the Enterprise's transmission to scan the enemy's bridge. His focus settled on one individual. "As does your Vulcan crew member, who would appear to bear the rank of first officer, science division. Isn't that right—Spock?"
Every member of the bridge complement, except those responsible for tactical and defense, turned to look in the direction of the ship's science station. Spock, the object of Nero's attention, responded with his characteristic cool composure. "Pardon me, but I don't believe you and I are acquainted."
Nero persisted, his tone probing. "No, we're not—not yet. First, I want you to see something. Tell me, Spock, at what price did the Federation turn you from your people? Where does your true loyalty lie? Do you even know yet the meaning of loyalty, or of the responsibility that goes with power?"
Spock, maintaining his unflinching demeanor, chose diplomacy over confrontation. "I'll say what you wish if it will save lives."
The Romulan's gaze narrowed, and he abruptly altered both his attention and his tone. "Captain, if you are not already aware of the fact, your transporter capability is disabled along with your communications. You can neither beam off your ship nor communicate with anyone else. You will man a shuttle and board our ship for negotiations." A smile crossed his face, but it was far from reassuring. "By yourself."
Pike's mind raced as he pondered the Romulan's demand. How much time would Nero allocate for negotiations when his vessel clearly outmatched the Enterprise in terms of power and weaponry? He sat in the command chair, feigning contemplation of the ultimatum, but he was acutely aware of the urgency of their situation. He needed to make a decision quickly.
"As a sentient being who values honor," Pike finally spoke, his words carefully chosen, "give me your word you won't harm my ship if I come aboard yours."
Buffy couldn't hide her concern and questioned Pike's decision aloud. "Pike, what are you doing?"
Pike shot a sharp look in Buffy's direction, conveying the seriousness of the situation. He needed her to trust his judgment at this critical moment.
Nero, seemingly unperturbed by the exchange among the humans, responded genially. "As sentient beings of honor, we have an agreement. You will be allowed sufficient time to depart and arrive. Any delay perceived as excessive on your part will result in the immediate destruction of your vessel." His predatory smile returned. "I would recommend, Captain, that you do not loiter over inconsequentialities."
Pike accepted the terms, knowing that time was of the essence. "I'll be there as fast as a shuttle can be readied," he informed Nero. However, the Romulan commander terminated the communication before Pike could relay his reply.
Dawn, expressing her concern for Pike's safety, stood and took a step toward the command chair. "He is deceitful, Captain," she warned.
Pike considered Dawn's warning carefully, aware of the urgency of their situation. "And you know that, how?" he questioned, his tone measured.
Dawn directed him to the PADD she had given him earlier. "Look at my file on the PADD I gave you," she instructed.
Pike, feeling the pressure of time, opted for a condensed version. "We don't have time for me to review your files," he countered. "Just give me the quick version."
Dawn didn't mince words. "I am empathic, the only human to be so in the last two hundred years. I could sense his emotions. He has ulterior motives."
Kirk, standing by Pike's side, chimed in with his own perspective. "He's already caused the death of hundreds. He won't show you any special dispensation just because you're a senior officer."
From across the bridge, Spock added his voice to the chorus of caution. "It would be highly illogical to trust the word of—"
"I understand that," Pike replied, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. He rose from his seat, knowing that he needed a select team for this critical mission. "Buffy, I'm going to need you. Mister Spock, you also. Kirk, you too—you're not supposed to be here anyway."
As Pike headed for the main lift, he addressed Dawn, the bridge's last remaining senior officer. "Commander Sum..."
Dawn interjected, her voice reflecting a desire for simplicity. "Please, just call me Dawn. If Buffy is ever promoted, it will ease confusion to address us both by our first names."
Pike agreed with a nod. "Very well, Dawn. Contact engineering and have Chief Engineer Olson meet us at the shuttlebay."
"Aye," Dawn acknowledged as she moved to convey the captain's request, her sense of responsibility palpable.
Pike, Spock, Buffy, and Kirk entered the lift, their mission clear but fraught with uncertainty. As the doors closed, Pike left Dawn with a final directive. "And Dawn, until Spock returns to the bridge, you are in command."
