Chapter 5: Jump
They had to change lifts twice more to avoid areas undergoing internal damage repair and ongoing maintenance as they made their way to the shuttlebay. Once they were out in the access corridor, Kirk stepped up alongside Captain Pike, his curiosity and concern evident.
"I have to reiterate: what are you doing—sir?" Kirk inquired. "Pardon me for saying so, but based on what we know of this individual and his actions so far, I'd say we gain nothing by diplomacy. If he wanted to arrange a ceasefire, he would have done so with the commanders of... the other ships. He just wants to extract any information he can from you. Sure, he can pressure you by threatening to continue the battle, but maybe his vessel has been damaged, too, if not visibly, and he needs time for his crew to make repairs. Meanwhile, he'll have you as a hostage while we have nothing. And if you think his word as a 'sentient being of honor' means anything, I suggest you tell it to the captains of the..."
Pike halted so abruptly that Kirk nearly collided with him. The captain got right in the younger man's face, his voice tense and controlled as he explained his reasoning. He fought to keep his emotions in check, knowing the gravity of their situation.
"If you can look past your initial animal response, Cadet, and for a moment think about conditions outside your immediate surroundings, you'll recognize that without transporter capability, not only can we not leave this ship, we cannot assist Vulcan or anyone on its surface," Pike emphasized. "Additionally, with communications blocked, we cannot notify Starfleet of what's happening here, either to request reinforcements, seek information, or simply warn the rest of the Federation."
Turning away and resuming his stride toward the shuttlebay, Pike continued, "So, I'm creating an opportunity to get an away team on that drill and disable it. I hope you're right about this Nero wanting to extract information from me. I pray that he tries. While he's preoccupied with me, it is to be hoped he'll keep his word at least that long and will leave the Enterprise alone. Every moment of time I can buy while I'm engaging his attention on his ship is another minute that can be utilized to restore our defensive capabilities and rebuild our fighting potential. Not to mention tending to the wounded and reassigning personnel."
Kirk had heard everything the captain said, but a particular phrase caught his attention. "Excuse me, sir—I'm not sure I heard you right. Did you say 'onto the drill'? Meaning what?" he asked, seeking clarification on the captain's plan.
As Pike led the group down the final corridor toward the shuttlebay, he elaborated on his plan. Kirk and Buffy listened intently, absorbing the details.
"Meaning you, Buffy—who has advanced combat training—and Chief Engineer Olson will do a space-jump from the shuttle onto the drill, get inside, disable it, and as soon as communications and transporter capability are restored, beam back to the Enterprise," Pike explained. "I'll get you as close as I can, but I can't descend too far toward the atmosphere without running the risk of that kind of detour making someone on the Romulan vessel suspicious. And obviously, you can't use personal transport pods or any other kind of powered drop gear because they'll be watching my shuttle and would likely pick up the engine signatures. But a trio of driveless free-falling humans ought to go undetected."
Kirk carefully considered the daring plan his captain had laid out. "Ohh-kaaayy..." he responded, still processing the audacity of the mission.
Pike then turned his attention to his science officer, Spock, who would be left in command of the Enterprise during their absence. "Mister Spock, I'm leaving you in command of the ship. Once transporter capability and communications have been restored, reach out to Starfleet and tell them what the hell's happening here."
Spock arched one eyebrow as he regarded Pike. "What is happening here, Captain? Beyond the obvious fact that serious hostilities have occurred between Federation forces and a most peculiar representative of Romulus."
Pike's response was concise but carried a sense of urgency. "Something you've only precious few minutes to figure out, Commander. If all else fails, fall back and rendezvous with the rest of the fleet in the Laurentian system."
With his orders clear, Pike turned to his left and addressed Kirk directly. "Kirk, I'm promoting you to first officer," he declared, recognizing the need for leadership in this critical mission.
Kirk couldn't hide his astonishment at the sudden promotion. "Excuse me, sir, but—what?" he stammered, trying to make sense of the unexpected decision.
Buffy chimed in, echoing Kirk's sentiments. "I have to echo that, Pike," she said. "Dawn holds the rank of Commander. Wouldn't she be..."
Pike quickly clarified his decision, addressing Buffy first. "Due to her empathic gift, she would be better suited where she is," he explained. Then, he turned his attention back to Kirk with a grim smile. "While I'm gone, we need to maintain the chain of command," he said, nodding toward Spock. "And you two make a swell team."
Spock, still struggling to understand the human logic behind this, responded with a touch of frustration. "Captain, please. I apologize, but the complexities of human pranks escape me. Especially those that are perpetrated at times plainly devoid of anything resembling humor."
Pike's expression grew serious as he addressed their concerns. "This isn't a prank, Mister Spock. And I'm not the captain—you are."
Kirk realized that there were more pressing matters at hand and refocused on the mission. "When we knock off the drill—sir, what happens to you?" he asked, concern etched on his face. "You'll be stuck on the Romulan ship, and they won't be any too happy about what we've done."
Buffy shared Kirk's concern. "That's my question, Pike," she added, her expression showing her worry about her friend's safety.
Pike's response carried a hint of humor as he offered a wry grin. "I guess you'll have to come get me," he replied, his confidence in his crew evident. He took the lead and moved ahead of the group to check on the shuttle preparations, emphasizing the importance of taking care of the new ship while he was away.
As they prepared for the daring mission, Pike called back to Buffy, Kirk, and Olson, who were gearing up. "Suit up, ladies and gentlemen. I hope none of you has a particular fear of heights."
Buffy couldn't resist a playful remark, reminding Pike of her unique skills. "You do remember what I told you that I did for Dawn, right?" she asked with a smirk.
Pike chuckled in response, acknowledging Buffy's capabilities. "I do, Buffy," he said, knowing Buffy didn't really have a fear of heights.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
As Spock entered the bridge, he sensed a shift in the atmosphere. The crew's stares were now filled with a newfound respect for him. He addressed Dawn, who was in the command chair, with a calm demeanor. "Commander, do you have tactical training?"
Dawn nodded in response. "I do, though not as extensive as Buffy's. My primary areas of expertise are in Engineering, Linguistics, Medicine, and Psychology."
Spock considered her qualifications. "Then, until she returns, assume her station," he instructed as he took the command chair. He immediately activated the intercom to contact the medical team. "Doctor Puri, this is Acting Captain Spock. Report."
McCoy's voice came through the intercom. "McCoy here. Doctor Puri's dead. In lieu of orders, I've been doing what I can."
Spock's expression remained composed, but there was a subtle tightening of his features. "Then you have just inherited his responsibilities as Chief Medical Officer, Doctor McCoy. Prepare all bays for mass triage."
McCoy acknowledged the order. "Aye, sir. I've already initiated procedures on all decks to..."
Spock interrupted him with a clear directive. "I am not concerned with internal operations, Doctor. I am confident that you have them under control. We must prepare ourselves for a possible influx of refugees from Vulcan."
"Our facilities are stretched to the limit right now, Commander," McCoy replied, his concern evident.
Spock maintained his calm demeanor. "Get the less seriously wounded back on duty as quickly as possible, Doctor," he instructed firmly. "Try to make some room."
McCoy nodded, determined to do his best despite the challenging circumstances. "I'll do the best I can, sir," he affirmed.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
With the assistance of skilled shuttlebay technicians, Buffy and her two companions struggled into the semiflexible dropsuits, their bodies engulfed in the tight-fitting gear that offered both protection and constraint. Beads of sweat glistened on their brows as they fought against the resistance of the suits, battling to find comfort within their confining embrace.
As they hastily made their way towards the waiting shuttle, their movements were imbued with a sense of urgency. Clutching their helmets tightly in their hands, they hurried, their hearts pounding with a mixture of apprehension and determination. Buffy's eyes scanned her surroundings, taking in the sight of Olson's euphoric grin, a wide arc of joy that stretched across his face like a sunrise. His excitement was palpable, radiating an infectious enthusiasm that seemed misplaced in the face of the impending danger they were about to confront. It was as if he was embarking on a thrilling ski trip rather than a perilous mission.
"This is great!" Olson exclaimed, his voice brimming with ecstatic energy. "Isn't this great? I am pumped to kick some Romulan ass!"
Kirk mustered a faint smile, his countenance betraying a mixture of admiration and concern. He recognized the significance of the task at hand, the weight of responsibility they all carried upon their shoulders. Yet, Olson's unrestrained exhilaration seemed to offer a brief respite from the gravity of their mission.
Buffy, however, couldn't help but roll her eyes in response to Olson's exuberance. A faint sigh escaped her lips as she muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation, "Men."
Intrigued by Buffy's unique blend of skills and resilience, Kirk turned his attention towards her, his eyes filled with genuine curiosity. Breaking the tension with a touch of levity, he asked, "So, Buffy, tell me, what kind of advanced combat training do you possess?"
A flicker of pride illuminated Buffy's features as she contemplated the extensive repertoire she had acquired under the tutelage of Giles. She listed her accomplishments with a measured confidence, her voice carrying a tinge of self-assuredness amidst the imminent danger that loomed before them.
"Hand to hand combat, the art of fencing, mastery of the quarterstaff, precision with a crossbow..." Buffy enumerated each discipline with precision, her words painting a vivid picture of the diverse combat techniques she had honed over the years.
Kirk's gaze intensified, admiration mingling with surprise as he beheld the breadth of Buffy's expertise. In that moment, he couldn't help but appreciate the extraordinary individual standing beside him, a warrior whose skills surpassed the limits of his imagination.
As Pike guided the shuttle forward, his thoughts were a whirlwind of concern and determination. He couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter with Nero held grave consequences not only for himself but for the entire crew of the Enterprise and the people of Vulcan. The urgency of their mission weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he knew that every decision he made could tip the scales between success and failure.
He glanced at the monitor displaying Buffy, Kirk, and Olson in the passenger compartment. The trio represented the hope and capability of their mission, and he prayed for their success. But in the back of his mind, a nagging worry persisted—what if they couldn't disable the Romulan drill? What if he was left stranded on Nero's ship, with no guarantee of his own safety?
Pike knew he had to put aside his doubts and focus on the task at hand. With steady hands and a determined expression, he piloted the shuttle toward the open shuttlebay doors. The hum of the shuttle's engines filled the cockpit as they prepared to depart, and Pike couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency in the air.
"Hold on. Preparing for departure," he announced to his passengers, his voice steady and resolute. His hands deftly manipulated the instruments, and the shuttle responded to his commands with precision. The shuttlebay doors loomed ahead, and with a final push of the controls, the little vessel darted forward.
Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible in the course he had chosen, Pike sent the shuttle speeding toward the enormous alien vessel in as wide an arc as he dared. Minutes ticked away without any response or comment from the Narada. If he was not challenged, he would be able to strike the bottom of an arc above the optimum drop point. Buffy and the two would have one chance and one only to hit the drop precisely. Once clear of the shuttle their commitment would be irrevocable.
Ahead he could see multiple metallic threads twining into one. An enormous spiny cable descended from the belly of the alien craft toward the yellow-brown world below. Far below he could just make out the white-hot whirlwind of plasma being emitted by the drill platform. The captain had set out on as inconspicuous a parabolic course as possible and thus far the Romulans had not reacted negatively. Would the arc he had plotted be deep enough? He made minute adjustments to course and speed, trying to slow as much as possible without attracting undue attention. Delicately he trimmed attitude to rotate the shuttle so that its fuselage would be aligned between the Narada and the preselected drop angle.
In the midst of the controlled chaos within the shuttle's aft bay, Buffy and her companions hurriedly secured their helmets, their movements a dance of precision and urgency. The Klaxon's shrill wail continued to pierce the air, a relentless reminder of the imminent danger they were about to face. As their gloved hands worked swiftly, the helmets locked into place, sealing them within the protective confines of their dropsuits.
Once sealed, the dropsuits sprang to life, surrounding them with a controlled atmosphere that would sustain them in the vacuum of space. The hum of internal systems and the soft rush of pressurized air filled Buffy's ears, a symphony of technology designed to maintain the delicate equilibrium of life within the suit. Each component played a crucial role, and the integrity of their gear was paramount to their survival.
Amidst the whirlwind of preparations, Buffy couldn't help but entertain a disquieting thought. Her newfound immortality, as revealed by Dawn, should have provided a sense of reassurance. It was an assurance that she wouldn't face the specter of death for centuries to come. Yet, paradoxically, it also brought a unique burden of fear. The possibility of her immortality being compromised or her existence slipping away due to unforeseen circumstances weighed heavily on her mind. Even with the promise of longevity, the fear of losing her grip on life remained an ever-present companion, a nagging concern that refused to be ignored.
As they prepared to exit their seats, Buffy and her companions meticulously checked each other's dropsuits, ensuring that every joint was secure and that no gear was left unfastened. Their attention to detail was crucial, as any lapse in equipment could prove disastrous in the unforgiving vacuum of space.
Facing the port window, they were greeted by the vast expanse of stars and the distant surface of Vulcan. Pike, taking on the role of mission control, announced the next step in their preparations.
"Disabling gravity on one," he declared, and with that, they all reached for the nearest handhold, bracing themselves for the imminent shift in gravitational forces.
The countdown began, and as Pike reached "one," they all experienced a sudden release from gravity's pull. Despite the rapid transition, their extensive training allowed them to adapt seamlessly to the weightlessness that now enveloped them.
Buffy couldn't help but express her concern for their captain's safety in this perilous endeavor. "Be careful, Pike," she urged, a note of worry in her voice.
Pike's response was laced with determination and assurance. "Promise, Buffy," he replied before proceeding to hit the button.
As the shuttle's doors snapped open below them, the sudden depressurization expelled Buffy and her companions into the void of space with the force of a catapult. The sensation of being hurled into the vacuum of space was both exhilarating and terrifying, reminiscent of the countless high-stakes leaps she had taken in her life as a Slayer.
In that brief moment, as she tumbled through the emptiness of space, Buffy's thoughts briefly flashed back to the memory of jumping off the tower in Sunnydale, sacrificing herself to save her sister Dawn. It had been a moment of selflessness and bravery, a testament to her unwavering dedication to protect the ones she loved. Now, in the cold expanse of space, Buffy's determination remained steadfast, her resolve unshaken as she embarked on this perilous mission to save Vulcan and its inhabitants.
Using their suits' tiny individual, mechanical thrusters, they adjusted their descent attitude until they were rocketing along head downward and in parallel. The adrenaline coursing through their veins made their hearts pound like a drum, each heartbeat echoing in their chests as if in rhythm with the impending danger.
Vulcan was rushing toward them at incredible speed, its desert surface threatening to rise up and smash them flat. The vast, unforgiving landscape stretched out below, a harsh reminder of the perilous mission they were on. Seconds after drop release, they found themselves shooting groundward alongside the mammoth tether that connected the plasma drill to the Romulan vessel, the Earth's surface hurtling toward them like an unstoppable force.
At the appropriate instant, and guided by her suit's instrumentation, Buffy deployed her chute, which began to slow her descent immediately. The rush of deceleration filled her with a mixture of relief and anticipation, the sudden shift from freefall to controlled descent a thrilling contrast.
Kirk opened his own chute at almost exactly the same instant, the fabric billowing out above him like a guardian angel, ready to break his fall. The air rushing past him felt electrifying, charging the atmosphere with tension.
A gleaming red blur shot past them, heading directly for the looming drill platform. Fear clenched Buffy's chest like a vice, and she barely had time to shout a warning into her helmet pickup. Her voice trembled with urgency as she cried out, "Olson, pull now, now!"
Utterly lost in the moment, the chief engineer continued to hold back. His determination radiated from him like a palpable aura, fueled by a mix of bravado and sheer determination. He intended to show the two junior officers how it should be done. He was going to land on the platform ahead of them and commence its destruction even before they touched down, his reckless resolve adding a layer of suspense to the heart-pounding descent.
Olson almost laughed at the anguish in Buffy's voice that was screaming in his ears, a frantic symphony of fear and desperation. "No problem, Lieutenant. Another second, another two, three..." His words were laced with a reckless confidence, a daredevil spirit that he couldn't shake. He finally deployed his chute with a cavalier flourish, the red fabric blossoming around him like a defiant flag. "See? Slow, slowing..."
But it was not slow enough.
Olson hit the platform hard but intact, the impact jolting through him like a bolt of lightning. The abrupt landing knocked the wind out of him, leaving him gasping for breath. The world spun around him as he sledded sideways across the curved metal shell, a sense of disorientation taking hold. Stunned and disoriented, he scrambled frantically for a handhold on the slightly sloping surface, his gloved fingers searching for a lifeline.
Still deployed, his chute had caught air and was dragging him backward, a stubborn reminder of his haste. Frustration and anger welled up inside him, a bitter taste in his mouth. Reaching out, he hit the control to retract the fabric, but it was too late. As he did so, he lost what little grip he had and tumbled off the unforgiving edge.
Fingers fumbled for the appropriate contact, desperation clawing at him. He had failed in his attempt to land on the drill platform, and a sense of helplessness gnawed at him. Frustrated and angry at himself, all he could do now was redeploy the chute to descend safely to the surface below and...
His angle of descent sent him spinning toward the tornadic column of downward-driving plasma. Before he could reopen his chute, he made the slightest contact with its white-hot periphery, a searing burst of heat that engulfed him in an instant.
Incineration was instantaneous, his existence reduced to a fleeting blaze of fiery agony that left nothing behind but a haunting memory of his valiant but ill-fated descent.
Buffy came in rigidly, the hard touchdown reverberating through her body like an electric shock. Unlike the unfortunate and foolish Olson, the impact didn't disable her or send her tumbling over the side. She fought against the force of the air, her muscles straining as she quickly hit the retract control on her suit. Slits immediately materialized in her chute, eliminating drag with precision just before it retracted cleanly back into its compact storage compartment. Her training and instincts had served her well, and she stood there, poised and ready for the next challenge.
A shout in her helmet drew her attention to the far side of the platform. Kirk, deploying his chute just a second or so before Buffy had, had become entangled in the support strand and its main subsidiary cables. Now he hung upside down, a human pendulum at the mercy of the unforgiving wind. His strong chute cables began to abrade against several metal strands, a grim reminder of their dire situation.
Buffy instantly remembered the last time she had found herself dangling, a vivid memory from her high school days. It had been during her junior year when she and her friends had learned Oz was a werewolf, and she had been caught in the net of a werewolf hunter. Her heart raced with a mix of determination and urgency as she unsealed her helmet, putting it aside.
Rushing to help Kirk, her voice carried both reassurance and determination. "Hang on! I'm coming for you!" she shouted upward, her emotional turmoil mirroring the desperate struggle playing out on the platform.
As Kirk's chute cables started to part, one by one, he fought with all his strength to climb up them in search of a stable perch. The tension in the air was palpable, the stakes higher than ever.
But Buffy's Slayer senses began to scream at her, a primal warning that sent a shiver down her spine. She spun around just in time to see a startled Romulan rising from a hatch in the previously unbroken surface. The guard had detected her presence and was raising the heavy rifle he carried, the danger now lurking in their midst.
With the speed of a Slayer, Buffy charged forward, her determination blazing like a wildfire in her veins. She collided with the larger Romulan guard, the two of them crashing down onto the disk-shaped metal platform. It was a chaotic melee, bodies grappling, fists flying, and legs kicking on the precipice of oblivion, thousands of kilometers above the unforgiving ground. There was no railing, no safety net—just the cold, harsh reality of a life-and-death struggle.
As they fought tooth and nail, a second guard emerged from another hatch, his weapon aimed with deadly intent. Buffy knew she had to keep the body of the Romulan she was wrestling with between herself and the newcomer, a deadly game of human chess played out on the edge of the abyss. Her opponent, however, had his own agenda, attempting to maneuver the Slayer to expose her back to his cohort.
Meanwhile, Kirk landed atop the second guard and managed to knock the weapon out of his hands. But instead of rushing to retrieve it, the guard drew a vrelnac from its scabbard—a ceremonial sword that promised a slower but more satisfying demise for the intruder.
In a moment of desperate inspiration, Buffy reached around her adversary and managed to snatch the Romulan's own vrelnac. "Switch," she ordered, her voice carrying the urgency of their dire situation.
Kirk spun around simultaneously with Buffy. She advanced on her new opponent, gripping the stolen sword in one hand, her every move calculated and fierce.
While Kirk and his fresh adversary exchanged furious blows, fatigue began to wear on him, the weight of his opponent taking its toll. He caught one punch and then another, the impacts rocking him like a ship in a storm. Staggering backward, he slipped, and in a heart-stopping moment, he went over the edge. Panic surged through him, but at the last possible instant, he managed to deploy his suit chute, a lifeline in the nick of time. Yet, as he dangled there, a cruel twist of fate awaited—his chute snagged on a menacing projection.
Desperation clawing at him, Kirk reached up with every ounce of strength he could muster, his fingers finding purchase on the edge of the platform. It was a harrowing moment of sheer willpower, caught between the precipice of a fall that spanned thousands of kilometers and a triumphant Romulan guard.
He narrowly evaded the first booted foot that descended menacingly toward one of his hands. The Romulan guard, now amused and relaxed, took his time raising the other foot, savoring the moment. Kirk's heart raced, his mind racing even faster, trying to calculate his next move. Just in the nick of time, he shifted his other hand to the side, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow. His adversary frowned, his patience wearing thin. It had been a short game to begin with, and it was already growing tiresome. Next time, he promised himself, he wouldn't miss.
But then, a most peculiar expression crossed the Romulan's face. His gaze lowered, and he was startled to see the business end of his own vrelnac protruding from his chest. As Buffy drew the blade back out, the dying guard tumbled forward, his body beginning its inexorable descent toward the distant planetary surface far below. A few choice words from Kirk followed him into the abyss, a parting shot of defiance from the human he had nearly killed.
Buffy whirled around to confront the remaining guard, her determination and readiness unwavering. Meanwhile, Kirk acted quickly, hitting a control on his suit. The jammed chute retracted into its compartment, hauling him back up onto the platform. With a swift and decisive burst from his own sidearm, he eliminated the threat of the second guard, the echoes of their perilous battle fading into the vast expanse of the Vulcan sky.
Alone and alive together on the platform, with the deafening roar of the drill beneath them, they surveyed their surroundings with a mix of anxiety and determination. The situation was dire, and Buffy couldn't help but wonder aloud, her voice laced with concern, "What now? Olson had all of the explosives."
Kirk wasted no time pondering Buffy's question. In one swift motion, he picked up one of the fallen Romulan weapons. Though foreign in design, it was engineered to accommodate humanoid, if not human, limbs and hands. It didn't take him long to figure out how it operated. With a wry smile, he turned and aimed the rifle at the junction of support cables and platform, pulling the trigger. A searing blast of energy tore into the structure, his eyes meeting Buffy's as he declared, "Look what I found—the 'off' switch."
Buffy couldn't hide her disdain for firearms as she groaned softly, but she knew there was no room for sentimentality in their current predicament. She retrieved the other Romulan rifle and joined Kirk in their methodical assault on the platform. Together, they worked with unwavering focus, systematically dismantling and obliterating every corner that appeared to be connected to the operation of the drill. The hope lingered in her heart that the destruction they wrought would be enough to put an end to whatever sinister plans the Romulans had in motion.
Minutes ticked by, marked by the relentless barrage of energy fire from the heavy rifles. Fires raged within the platform, plumes of smoke and sparks swirling around them. The mammoth drilling device began to quiver, its vibrations weakening. And then, after another couple of intense minutes, it all ceased.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Onboard the Enterprise, the sudden resurgence of activity sent a surge of hope through the bridge crew. Telltales on the main communications console and throughout the command center blinked to life, their previous dormant state replaced by a flurry of activity and data.
Uhura, always composed under pressure, methodically checked each telltale one by one. With her station transitioning from silence to a symphony of signals in an instant, it didn't take long for her to draw her conclusions. Her voice carried a mix of relief and determination as she announced, "Interference has vanished—the energy disruption that was blocking communications is gone. Full communications capability reestablished."
Dawn, stationed nearby, added to the encouraging developments with her own update. "Transporter controls are active and reengaged," she reported, her voice echoing with newfound optimism.
Spock, the embodiment of logic and precision, swiftly provided vital information. "Telemetry and remote instrument readings indicate the enemy has bored at least as far as Vulcan's core," he informed the crew, his voice steady and authoritative. "Commander Summers, direct all gravitational sensors to the affected area—I want to know what they're doing."
Dawn responded promptly with a crisp "Aye," her fingers expertly maneuvering the controls to initiate the necessary scans.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
As Buffy and Kirk waited anxiously to be beamed back aboard the Enterprise, a sudden sound pierced the air, causing them to look up and squint at the sky. The high-pitched whine swiftly transformed into a shrill shriek, and it trailed behind a small, solid object hurtling toward them. In that heart-stopping moment, dread seized them both as they feared the object might collide with the drill platform.
Their hearts raced as the object, moving at breakneck speed, shot past them, barely missing the platform. They moved cautiously to the edge of the platform, their eyes tracking its descent toward the planet's surface. At their current altitude, they couldn't discern fine details, but they agreed that if the object had struck the ground, there would have been a visible impact. Yet, moments passed without any sign of contact.
"Nothing traveling at that speed from this altitude could possibly make a soft landing," Buffy remarked, her voice tinged with unease.
Kirk nodded in agreement, a dawning realization settling upon them both. Far below, a puff of gas billowed upward, marking the spot they had previously noted—the location where the plasma drill had been piercing the planet's crust. "Some kind of bomb?" he speculated.
"Possibly," Buffy replied just as a powerful shockwave struck them. Despite the strength, reflexes, and agility she had as the Slayer, she, like Kirk, was knocked off her feet. They both fought to maintain their footing on the platform.
The effects of the shockwave were brief but intense. Feeling such power at their altitude, on a platform designed to withstand the strongest winds, raised chilling implications. It suggested that whatever had been sent into the borehole far below was something far more potent and destructive than a simple thermonuclear device.
Having successfully disabled the plasma drill, which had been the source of the interference disrupting their communication, Kirk eagerly activated his communicator, hoping for a connection. He breathed a sigh of relief as it finally made contact. "Kirk to Enterprise! They just launched something into the planet," he relayed urgently, his eyes flicking over to Buffy, who nodded in solemn confirmation. "Lieutenant Summers validates. Whatever it was, it went right down the borehole they've been drilling. Time delay was followed by a severe atmospheric shock wave. Size and composition of subsurface discharge unknown. There was no visible flash, so it must have detonated at considerable depth."
Buffy, her attention drawn elsewhere, was now leaning over the edge of the platform, her posture demanding his presence. "Jim," she said, using his first name for the first time in their interactions, "get over here. You've got to see this." Kirk wasted no time, scrambling on hands and knees to join the chief of security, his curiosity piqued.
Together, they peered down at the terrain far below, their breaths catching as they beheld the cataclysmic transformation unfolding before their eyes. Vulcan was in the throes of upheaval, its very foundation disintegrating.
Huge fissures tore through the once-solid desert landscape, like scars etched into the planet's surface. Mountains, once proud and unyielding, began to crumple in upon themselves, their majesty reduced to rubble. The landscape was bathed in the eerie, ominous light of multiple eruptions as previously dormant summits were transformed into active volcanoes. A threatening yellow-red glow marked the emergence of fresh lava as magma boiled to the surface.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
The true scope of the rapidly escalating cataclysm was far more visible from the Enterprise.
Chekov stared at his instrumentation in disbelief. He did not want to accept the readouts and he especially did not want to report them to the ship's current commanding officer, but he had no choice.
"Keptin, gravitational sensors have gone off the scale. The components of what the Romulan vessel launched remain unknown, but if my calculations are correct, the contents of the pod they dispatched has generated a singularity in the vicinity of the core that will consume the planet."
Dawn looked up with a deep frown. "T'Pol," she whispered in fear and concern. She looked toward Spock and could sense his emotions. He betrayed no outward signs of what he was feeling. But internally was another matter.
Uhura voiced the question that hung heavy in the room, her voice trembling slightly. "You're saying their device is opening a black hole at the center of Vulcan?"
Chekov nodded solemnly, struggling to convey the gravity of the situation without dwelling on the sheer horror of it all. "An oversimplification of the physics that have been set in motion, but the consequences cannot be overstated. A reaction has been started that will surely cause the planet to collapse in on itself." He swallowed hard, the weight of the revelation nearly unbearable. "Once initiated, such a reaction cannot possibly be stopped. Depending on the extent of the singularity, it will consume all matter in its vicinity. Including us, if we remain in this orbit at this altitude."
Silence hung heavy in the room as the crew absorbed the gravity of Chekov's evaluation. They tried to avoid looking at the science officer and acting captain, but it was an effort in futility. When Spock finally spoke, it was with the measured tone and composed manner that those who knew him well would have expected. "My own calculations confirm your readings, Mister Chekov. How long?" he inquired, cutting right to the heart of the matter.
The ensign fought back tears that threatened to surface. "Minutes—Keptin," he responded, his voice trembling with the weight of the revelation.
Spock's next words were a stark command, his voice devoid of emotion. "Signal a planetwide evacuation. All channels, all frequencies. Transmit a condensed version of available geophysical information. Alert Vulcan High Command that traditional shelters are not safe. Anyone who can reach a ship must do so and initiate maximum escape velocity as quickly as possible."
With those orders issued, Spock rose from his chair and started toward the turbolift, a sense of urgency in every step. Uhura, not one to stand idly by, rushed after him, her voice filled with concern. "Spock, wait—where are you going?"
He paused in front of the turbolift, and Dawn came up beside him. "To evacuate the Vulcan High Council. Those tasked with protecting and preserving our cultural history. My parents will be among them," he replied, his commitment to his people unwavering, even in the face of impending doom.
"As will mine," Dawn affirmed, and Spock looked at her with a raised eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "My adopted mother is Ambassador T'Pol. I am T'Lekus of Vulcan," she explained, her identity unveiled.
Spock nodded in acknowledgment, now connecting the dots to the individuals he had heard his parents speak of. He had never known Dawn by her human name, and this revelation added a layer of complexity to their shared mission.
Uhura, her concern for their safety evident, interjected with a question. "Do you have to go yourselves? Can't we beam them out?"
Dawn's response was regretful but firm. "It's not possible. They'll be in the katric arc. The shelter was built to withstand not only conventional disruption but all varieties of radiation. The transporter can't penetrate. It is not possible to get a lock through its shielding."
Spock wasted no time in making a decision. "We must get them ourselves," he declared resolutely. "Given the scale and rapid escalation of tectonic disruption, I suspect they will already have moved deep into the main shelter."
"I concur," Dawn agreed, her commitment to the mission mirroring Spock's.
Spock fixed his gaze on Uhura, a moment of silent contemplation passing between them as if he were about to convey something more. Eventually, he chose to speak again, his voice filled with astounding calmness and authority. "Lieutenant Uhura," he declared, as he and Dawn moved swiftly toward the turbolift, "you have the conn."
With determination, Uhura acknowledged the change of command. "Yes, sir," she replied, her mouth set in readiness to assume the responsibilities of the bridge in Spock's absence.