Author's Note: As I was going through the source material for this chapter, I noticed there was a conversation between Sulu and Kirk. Where Sulu mentions the Galaxy Class being smaller than the Enterprise. I found it funny for several reasons. One of which was as we all know the Galaxy Class is bigger than the Constitution Class (Kirk's Enterprise) and secondly, they were talking about the Galaxy Class five years before TNG premiered (Wrath of Khan novelization came out in '82 and TNG premiered in '87).
Chapter 22: Wrath of Khan Part 1
March 25, 2285 (A/N)
Starfleet Academy, Earth
Buffy sat at the helm, her fingers dancing across the console with practiced precision, her gaze focused ahead into the vast expanse of space. Over her shoulder stood Sulu, emanating calm assurance. She was the only one on the bridge who wasn't a trainee, yet she humbly followed Sulu's lead. Determined to expand her skills, she had chosen to venture into a new role, weary of always being relegated to the sidelines.
Beside her sat Ensign Croy, under the watchful eye of Chekov, absorbing every nuance of the operation. "Sector fourteen to sector fifteen," Buffy announced confidently, her voice clear and decisive. "Transition: mark."
"Thank you, Commander," Saavik acknowledged with a nod. "Set us a course along the perimeter of the Neutral Zone, if you please."
"Aye, Captain," Buffy responded promptly, her acknowledgment ringing with respect and readiness.
Sulu observed quietly, a silent guardian offering support without intrusion, trusting Buffy to navigate the challenges ahead. Though he harbored no doubts about her abilities, having served under Admiral James Kirk alongside her and witnessing her wealth of experience spanning centuries, he understood the significance of this moment. It was Buffy's inaugural encounter with the infamous Kobayashi Maru scenario, a test she had never faced during her ascension through the ranks.
"Captain," Uhura interjected, her voice breaking the silence with urgency. "I'm receiving a signal on the distress channel. It's very faint..."
Saavik's fingers danced over the controls with practiced efficiency, swiftly allocating priority to communications for signal enhancement. "Communications now has priority on computer access for signal enhancement," she commanded, her tone crisp and authoritative.
Uhura's trainee sprang into action, his fingers a blur as he manipulated the console with precision. After several tense seconds, he reported, "It's definitely an emergency call, Captain."
"Patch it through to the speakers," Saavik ordered, her voice steady despite the rising tension in the air.
Uhura's trainee complied, and the bridge was filled with the urgent plea for help: "Mayday, mayday. Kobayashi Maru, twelve parsecs out of Altair VI..." The voice crackled with interference, struggling to break through the veil of static. The trainee furrowed his brow, his focus unwavering as he attempted to stabilize the transmission. "...gravitic mine, lost all power. Environmental controls..."
"Gravitic mine!" Saavik's realization cut through the air like a knife, her expression hardening with concern.
"...hull broached, many casualties," the distress call continued, each word a desperate plea for assistance. But as the signal deteriorated further, descending into an incomprehensible jumble of noise, it became evident that time was of the essence.
"This is U.S.S. Enterprise," Uhura's trainee's voice rang out, determined and resolute amidst the chaos. "Your message is breaking up. Give your coordinates. Repeat: Give your coordinates. Do you copy?"
"Copy, Enterprise. Sector ten..." The distress call crackled through the speakers, each word a desperate plea for salvation.
Saavik interjected with a grim realization. "The Neutral Zone," she stated, her tone tinged with urgency.
"Mayday, Enterprise, we're losing our air, can you help? Sector ten—" The once steady voice faltered, the strain of the situation beginning to fray its edges.
"We copy, Kobayashi Maru-" Uhura's trainee hesitated, glancing towards Saavik for guidance, the weight of the moment heavy upon them both.
"Tactical data, Kobayashi Maru," Saavik commanded, her voice cutting through the tension with a sharp clarity. She turned her gaze toward Buffy and Sulu, demanding answers. "Helm, what does a long-range sensor scan show?"
Sulu shot a glance at Buffy, his eyebrows raising in silent acknowledgment of her unshakable composure. Despite the complexity of the screen display, she remained unfazed, her centuries-long experience guiding her through the sea of data. "Very little, Captain," she reported calmly, her voice steady amidst the uncertainty. "High concentrations of interstellar dust and gases. Ionization causing sensor interference. A blip that might be a ship... or might not."
As the viewscreen quivered, the image morphed into the imposing form of a colossal transport vessel. With precision reminiscent of a surgeon's scalpel, the picture dissected itself into a series of detailed schematics, revealing the inner workings of the behemoth before them.
"Kobayashi Maru, third class neutronic fuel carrier, crew of eighty-one, three hundred passengers," the computer's synthesized voice intoned, delivering the grim statistics with chilling efficiency.
"Damn," Saavik muttered under her breath, her usually stoic demeanor betraying a flicker of emotion. "Helm?"
"Course plotted, Captain," Buffy responded promptly, her fingers dancing across the controls as she inputted her calculations into the display. But beneath her efficient exterior lurked a subtle warning, a silent reminder of the gravity of their actions. "Into the Neutral Zone," she stated, her tone carrying a weighty implication.
"I am aware of that," Saavik affirmed, her voice betraying none of the turmoil swirling within her.
"Entering Neutral Zone: mark," Buffy declared, her voice steady and resolute as she guided the ship into the perilous territory beyond.
"Full shields, Commander. Sensors on close-range, high-resolution," Saavik commanded, her tone betraying no hint of hesitation despite the weight of the decision.
Spock arched an eyebrow, his analytical mind dissecting the strategic implications of their chosen course of action. Gravitic mines were seldom deployed singly, a fact that wasn't lost on him. However, the decision to restrict sensors to such a limited range was a calculated risk, one that could potentially yield unforeseen consequences. Yet, in a cloud of ionized interstellar gas, long-range scanners would prove all but useless. He focused his attention on the sensor screens, his mind already devising contingency plans for whatever lay ahead.
"Warning," the computer's monotone voice interjected, interrupting the tense silence with its ominous announcement. "We have entered the Neutral Zone. Warning. Entry by Starfleet vessels prohibited. Warning—"
"Communications Officer, I believe that the mayday should have priority on the speakers," Saavik interjected smoothly, her voice cutting through the chaos with quiet authority.
"Yes, Captain," Uhura's trainee acknowledged, swiftly adjusting the settings to ensure that the distress call took precedence amidst the flurry of warnings and protocols.
"Warning. Treaty of Stardate—" The computer's voice faltered, abruptly silenced by a surge of static that crackled through the air like an ominous prelude. Amidst the chaotic interference, a faint and ghostly hoot emanated from an emergency beacon, its desperate cry for help cutting through the confusion like a beacon in the night.
"Security duty room," Saavik commanded, her voice calm but commanding, as she swiftly issued orders to address the unfolding crisis. "Security officers to main transporter."
"Aye, Captain," Security Commander Arrunja responded promptly, his voice echoing with determination as he prepared to mobilize his team for the task at hand.
"You may have to board the disabled vessel, Mr. Arrunja," Saavik continued, her tone grave as she relayed the gravity of the situation. "They're losing atmosphere and life-support systems."
"The field suits are checked out, Captain," Arrunja assured her, his readiness evident in his swift acknowledgment of the dire circumstances.
Meanwhile, the intern accompanying McCoy on the bridge sprang into action, her training kicking in as she hastened to open a hailing frequency. "Bridge to sick bay," she announced urgently, her voice carrying a sense of urgency. "Dr. Chapel, we need a medical team in main transporter, stat. Rescue mission to disabled ship. Field suits and probably extra oxygen."
McCoy's expression softened with approval, a proud gleam in his eyes as he observed his intern's swift and decisive response to the unfolding crisis.
"One minute to visual contact. Two minutes to intercept," Buffy announced, her voice a calm reassurance amidst the mounting tension.
"Viewscreen full forward," Saavik commanded, her tone decisive as she directed their focus towards the impending encounter.
As the schematics of the ore carrier dissolved, the starfield emerged in all its splendor, a tapestry of celestial beauty that veiled the lurking danger within. The brilliance of distant stars was marred by the subtle interference caused by ionization, a reminder of the unpredictable nature of their surroundings.
"Stand by, transporter room," Saavik instructed, her voice carrying a sense of urgency as she prepared her crew for the rescue mission ahead. "Mr. Arrunja, we have very little information on the disabled vessel. Prepare to assist survivors. But..." Her voice trailed off momentarily, the gravity of her final directive hanging heavy in the air. "... no one is to board Kobayashi Maru unarmed."
"Aye, Captain," Arrunja affirmed, his voice resonating with determination as he acknowledged the order.
"Coordinate with the helm to open the shields at energize," Saavik continued, her instructions clear and concise as she orchestrated the delicate balance between readiness and caution.
"Aye, aye," Arrunja responded, his resolve unwavering as he prepared to execute his captain's orders with precision and efficiency.
Spock's keen gaze detected a faint glimmer at the outer reaches of the sensor sphere, a subtle anomaly amidst the vastness of space. The distress beacon's plaintive wail abruptly fell silent, swallowed by the void, leaving behind only the hushed murmurs of interstellar energy fields.
"Captain, total signal degradation from Kobayashi Maru," Spock reported, his voice devoid of emotion as he relayed the grim news. "Sensors indicate three Klingon cruisers," he continued, his tone measured and composed despite the gravity of the situation. "Bearing eighty-seven degrees, minus twelve degrees. Closing fast."
Saavik's reaction was swift, her demeanor a mask of controlled intensity as she swiftly issued orders to meet the impending threat head-on. "All hands, battle stations," she commanded, her voice cutting through the air with authority. The Klaxon alarm blared in response, filling the bridge with its urgent wail as the crew prepared for the imminent confrontation. "Visual: spherical coordinates: plus, eighty-seven degrees, minus twelve degrees. Extend sensor range. Commander Summers, is there a disabled ship, or is there not?"
The viewscreen shifted, revealing the menacing silhouettes of three Klingon cruisers looming ominously in the distance. Yet, despite their proximity, the truth remained elusive, obscured by the deliberate interference of their adversaries.
"Unable to tell," Buffy responded grimly, her frustration evident as she grappled with the challenge posed by the Klingon tactics. "The Klingon ships are deliberately fouling our sensors."
"Communications?" Saavik's voice cut through the tense atmosphere, her tone commanding as she sought any possible avenue of communication with their adversaries.
"Nothing from the Klingons, Captain, and our transmission frequencies are being jammed," Uhura's trainee reported, frustration evident in his voice as he relayed the unsettling news.
"Klingons on attack course, point seven-five c," Spock's voice interjected, his stoic demeanor betraying none of the urgency that coursed through the bridge.
Saavik's response was swift, her resolve unyielding in the face of impending danger. "Warp six," she ordered, her voice steady and resolute as she charted a course that would propel them towards the heart of the conflict.
But Dr. McCoy's protest rang out, his voice laced with concern for the lives hanging in the balance. "You can't just abandon Kobayashi Maru!" he exclaimed, his words a stark reminder of the ethical dilemma they faced.
"Four additional Klingon cruisers at zero, zero," Spock's calm voice interrupted, delivering the grim reality of their situation with clinical precision. Dead ahead. Warp six on this course would lead the Enterprise straight into a barrage of photon torpedoes, a deadly gauntlet that promised destruction on all sides.
"Cancel warp six, Commander. Evasion action, zero and minus ninety. Warp at zero radial acceleration. Visual at zero, zero," Saavik commanded with unwavering authority, her mind already calculating the intricate dance of tactics that could potentially turn the tide of the impending conflict.
Dr. McCoy's presence was acknowledged with a nod, though Saavik's attention remained fixed on the task at hand. "Enterprise cannot outmaneuver seven Klingon cruisers. It will, however, outrun them. If we lure them far enough at their top speed, we can double back even faster-" she explained, her voice cool and composed as she outlined their strategy.
"And rescue the survivors before the Klingons can catch up to us again," McCoy interjected, his voice tinged with a hint of reluctant admiration for Saavik's calculated risk.
"It is the choice between a small chance for the disabled ship, and no chance at all," Saavik affirmed, her resolve unshakable in the face of uncertainty. "If there is in fact a disabled ship. I am not quite prepared to decide that there is not."
The viewscreen confirmed the looming presence of four more Klingon ships dead ahead, prompting the Enterprise to veer sharply away with a force that reverberated through the bridge, a testament to the intensity of their evasive maneuvers.
"Mr. Sulu, Commander Summers, lock on photon torpedoes. Fire..." Saavik paused, a moment of contemplation passing over her features as she wrestled with the weight of her decision. "Fire only if we are fired upon."
"Aye, Captain," Sulu responded, his voice a steady reassurance amidst the tension of the moment. Leaning in towards Buffy, he offered a quiet word of encouragement. "You are doing good, Buffy," he whispered, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Buffy met Sulu's gaze with a grateful smile of her own.
"Another blip on the sensor screens: 'Enemy cruisers, dead ahead,'" Spock's voice cut through the tension like a knife, his tone grave as he relayed the grim news of yet another impending threat.
Saavik's response was barely audible, a murmured utterance in a language unfamiliar to Spock, yet the frustration and dismay in her voice were unmistakable, a testament to the direness of their situation.
The Klingons wasted no time in launching their assault, their weapons blazing with deadly intent as they unleashed a barrage of firepower upon the Enterprise.
"Fire at will!" Saavik's command echoed through the chaos, her voice a rallying cry amidst the cacophony of battle.
The viewscreen erupted into blinding brightness as the enemy attack struck home, overwhelming the ship's defenses with its ferocity. Even the shields proved insufficient to withstand the sheer force of the onslaught, leaving the crew vulnerable to the full brunt of the energy impact.
Spock braced himself against the violent jolt, his Vulcan stoicism offering little solace in the face of such overwhelming destruction. Beside him, Sulu was torn from his station, flung across the bridge by the sheer force of the impact. Though Buffy's Slayer strength allowed her to maintain her position at the helm, Sulu lay motionless upon the deck, his still form a chilling testament to the toll exacted by the Klingon assault.
McCoy and the intern wasted no time in rushing to Sulu's side, their expressions a mix of shock and grief as they knelt beside their fallen comrade.
"Mr. Sulu!" McCoy's voice was thick with emotion as he desperately sought signs of life in his friend. But his tricorder offered no solace, its readings confirming the grim reality of Sulu's fate. "Spock, he's dead," McCoy declared, his voice heavy with sorrow.
Spock remained silent, his expression unreadable.
"Engineering!" Saavik's voice reverberated through the bridge, her tone urgent as she sought an update on the ship's critical systems.
"Main energizer hit, Captain," Chief Engineer Scott's response was grim, his words weighted with the gravity of the situation as he relayed the extent of the damage.
Buffy wasted no time, her fingers flying across the console as she swiftly calculated their options. With a nod from Spock, she keyed in the necessary commands before hitting the intercom. "Scotty, I need auxiliary power to the weapon systems," she demanded, her voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around them.
As the order was executed, the ship trembled beneath another assault from the Klingons. But this time, the Enterprise returned fire, unleashing a devastating barrage of torpedoes upon their adversaries. One of the Klingon cruisers was struck head-on, its hull buckling under the force of the impact before collapsing in upon itself in a silent implosion. Moments later, it erupted in a spectacular explosion that reverberated through the void, a silent testament to the ferocity of the battle raging around them.
But victory came at a cost. The Enterprise bore the brunt of the cruiser's final strike, the force of the explosion causing the viewscreen to flare with blinding light before plunging the bridge into darkness once more, the radiation from the furious attack seeping into every corner of the ship.
"We're losing auxiliary power and our shields along wi' it," Scott's voice crackled with urgency over the intercom. "The ship canna take another—"
Before he could finish his warning, the scream of irradiated electronics filled the air, a harrowing symphony of destruction as the enemy ships closed in for the kill. At close range, they unleashed a relentless barrage of fire upon the Enterprise, the ship quaking beneath the onslaught. Uhura was flung against the railing, then to the deck, the impact jolting McCoy into action as he abandoned his post beside Sulu's inert body to rush to her side.
"Uhura- Uhura... Oh, my God," McCoy's whispered words were a heartbreaking lament as he knelt beside the fallen communications officer, his hands trembling with fear and sorrow.
Buffy's fingers hovered over the controls, her heart pounding with urgency as she attempted to unleash the ship's arsenal upon their relentless assailants. But to her dismay, nothing happened. The weapons remained silent, their dormant state a grim reminder of the dire straits they found themselves in.
"Scotty, I need all power to the weapons systems; it's our only chance," Buffy's voice carried a note of desperation as she pleaded with the absent chief engineer, her eyes darting around the bridge in search of a solution.
"Mr. Scott... is a casualty..." his assistant's reply was barely audible amidst the cacophony of chaos engulfing the bridge. Her words were drowned out by a deluge of damage reports and urgent pleas for medical assistance. "Environmental controls destroyed. Life support, nonfunctional. Gravity generators failing."
McCoy's frustration boiled over as he struggled to establish communication with sickbay, his curses mingling with the static of the intraship communications. "Dr. Chapel, I've got to have a team on the bridge! Dr. Chapel! Chris!" But his pleas fell on deaf ears, met with a resounding silence from the medical bay.
With a heavy heart, Buffy reached out to touch the photon torpedo arming control one last time, her movements slow and deliberate as she came to terms with the grim reality before them. Despite her efforts, she knew deep down that nothing would change. "There is no power in the weapons systems, Captain," she stated, her voice tinged with resignation.
"There is, in fact, no power at all; we are merely bleeding the storage cells," Spock's calm observation only served to underscore the severity of their situation, his words a sobering reminder of the dwindling hope that remained.
The enemy ships closed in, their menacing presence forming an impenetrable barrier around the Enterprise, trapping them in a deadly embrace. Spock watched in grim resignation as the final assault unfolded, the flickering glow of the viewscreen offering a fleeting glimpse of their impending doom.
Simultaneously, the Klingon cruisers unleashed a devastating barrage of phaser fire, enveloping the Enterprise in a sphere of searing energy. Spock felt the radiation searing through the ship, a visceral sensation that sent a shiver of dread coursing through his veins. Desperately, he reached out for a handhold, his senses reeling from the onslaught.
Then, with a deafening roar, his console erupted in a shower of sparks, the force of the explosion throwing him backwards. As he tumbled to the ground, a wailing hiss filled the air, the unmistakable sound of escaping air that spelled doom for countless spacefarers before him.
Saavik, her knuckles white as she clung to her chair, watched in horror as Spock fell, a surge of grief and rage welling up within her. In that moment, she longed for the innocence of childhood, wishing she could scream with fury and the need for revenge. But there was no time for such emotions, no room for sentimentality in the face of imminent disaster.
Dr. McCoy fought to reach Spock's side, his progress hindered by the violent convulsions of the ship as it bucked and shuddered beneath the onslaught. With a cry of anguish, he too was thrown to the ground, his voice lost amidst the chaos.
Saavik rose to her feet, her expression a mask of determination as she surveyed the scene before her. Her ship, her first command, lay crippled and lifeless in the void of space. Turning to the only person left alive who outranked her, she spoke with a steely resolve. "Commander," she addressed Buffy, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging around them.
Buffy, her own heart heavy with sorrow, wasted no time in issuing the final command. "This is Commander Summers, all hands, abandon ship," she announced over the intercom, her voice carrying the weight of their collective fate. As Saavik armed the log buoy and launched it into space, sealing the fate of the Enterprise, Buffy repeated her order once more. "All hands, abandon ship."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Sitting in front of the viewscreen, Jim's expression was somber as he nodded in silent acknowledgment. He recognized the wisdom in Saavik's decision to seek guidance from those with more experience, a testament to her leadership and humility in the face of adversity.
"All right," Jim's voice broke the silence, his tone firm as he gave the command to open the partition. "Open her up."
As the wall parted, revealing the devastation that lay beyond, Jim rose from his seat and strode into the shattered remains of the bridge. Acrid smoke stung his eyes, but the efficient ventilation system had already begun to clear the air, providing some relief amidst the chaos. Carefully navigating through the debris, he stepped over the fallen form of Dr. McCoy.
Finally, Jim came to a halt before Buffy and Lieutenant Saavik, his gaze meeting Saavik's with unwavering resolve. "May I request the benefit of your experience, Admiral?" Saavik's question was measured.
"Well, Lieutenant, my experience is that the Klingons never take prisoners," Jim responded, his voice tinged with a hint of regret for the countless lives lost in conflicts past. "I must say it was also a good thing to ask for help from a superior officer, even if that superior officer is in the capacity of being your junior."
Turning to take in the scene of destruction surrounding them, Jim's gaze swept over the wreckage, a sobering reminder of the fragility of life and the ever-present threat of conflict in the vast expanse of space.
"This could easily have happened to us," Buffy agreed, her voice echoing Jim's sentiments. "Back when the Admiral was in command of the Enterprise. And sadly, on a few occasions, it almost did."
"Okay, folks," Jim's voice cut through the lingering tension, his tone authoritative yet laced with a hint of amusement. "The fun's over. He cast a glance towards the upper level of the bridge, seeking out Spock's presence amidst the aftermath of the simulation. "Captain Spock?"
Buffy had been offered both a promotion and command of the Enterprise, but she had graciously declined, recognizing Spock's unparalleled expertise and leadership qualities. So, she had suggested Spock for the position.
As Spock rose smoothly to his feet, the sound of shattering glass echoed through the air, a stark reminder of the intensity of their training exercise. "Trainees to debriefing," he announced with characteristic efficiency, his voice calm and composed despite the chaos that had unfolded mere moments before.
The young crew members, still reeling from the shock of the simulation's realism, obediently rose from their seats and made their way towards the exit, eager to debrief and learn from the experience. Meanwhile, the more seasoned members of the bridge crew, their laughter mingling with the sounds of camaraderie, rose from their simulated injuries, relieved to have emerged from the ordeal unscathed.
Uhura, her uniform adorned with specks of scorched insulation, brushed herself off with a sense of determination, her resolve undiminished by the challenges they had faced.
Sulu, his movements deliberate as he sat up, couldn't help but quip in the face of adversity. "Was that rougher than usual, or am I just getting old?" he joked, a wry smile playing across his lips as he rose to his feet, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
"No idea. Even though I'm not a cadet, this is my first time, remember?" Buffy gently reminded Sulu, a note of amusement lacing her words as she recalled their previous conversations about her unusual path to this moment.
"I remember," Sulu acknowledged with a nod, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Though it still surprises me that you didn't take it before now, since Dawn was the one to program the first iteration of the simulation."
"She's in part the reason I didn't take it till now," Buffy admitted, her expression thoughtful as she reflected on her wife's role in creating the simulation.
Meanwhile, Dr. McCoy reclined on the deck, his posture relaxed despite the chaos that had unfolded around them. Jim approached him, a hint of teasing in his voice as he delivered his customary quip. "Physician, heal thyself," Jim remarked, his tone light-hearted as he echoed the age-old adage.
McCoy shot him a mock-hurt look, his brow furrowing in feigned indignation. "Is that all you've got to say?" he retorted, his gruff demeanor belying a hint of amusement.
"I'm a Starfleet officer, not a drama critic," Jim replied with a smirk, his words carrying a touch of jest as he shrugged off McCoy's playful protest.
"Hmph," McCoy huffed in response, a wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he settled back into his impromptu lounge position.
"It's too bad you're not a cook," Mr. Sulu remarked to Dr. McCoy, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he delivered his deadpan comment.
"A cook? Why a cook?" McCoy responded, his curiosity piqued by Sulu's seemingly random suggestion.
"You could make fried ham," Sulu deadpanned, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone as he delivered the punchline.
Jim and Buffy couldn't contain their laughter at Sulu's quip, the absurdity of the suggestion sending them into fits of giggles.
"Fried ham?" McCoy exclaimed incredulously, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "I'll have you know I was the best Prince Charming in second grade!"
Undeterred, Sulu continued with his playful banter, adopting the role of an obsequious waiter with theatrical flair. "And as a side dish," he intoned, his voice dripping with mock sophistication, "perhaps a little sautéed scenery? When it's cooked, it's much easier to chew." With an uncanny imitation of Dr. McCoy's Southern drawl, he cried out, "Mr. Sulu! Mr. Sulu! Oh, gods, Spock, he's dead!"
McCoy couldn't help but glance upward, a silent plea for patience directed at the ceiling, before succumbing to the infectious laughter that filled the air. Despite his initial attempt at restraint, he found himself joining in, the levity of the moment proving irresistible even to the usually gruff doctor. From his vantage point on the upper bridge, Spock observed the scene with characteristic stoicism, his arms folded across his chest as he took in the camaraderie unfolding below.
Once the laughter had subsided and McCoy had wiped away tears of mirth, he addressed Sulu with a hint of mock severity. "Mr. Sulu, you exaggerate," he chided, though there was a fondness in his tone that belied any true rebuke.
"Poetic license," Sulu replied with a grin, his expression unrepentant as he defended his embellishment of the truth.
"Speaking of poetic license, or dramatic realism, or whatever," McCoy interjected, his demeanor turning serious for a moment, "you hit the floor pretty hard. Are you all right?"
Sulu nodded in response, a thoughtful furrow creasing his brow. "I am, yes, but did they reprogram that simulation? I don't remember it knocking us around quite so badly before killing us."
Buffy, who had been listening intently to the conversation, chimed in with her own observations. "I was wondering the same thing," she admitted, her brow furrowing in concern. "I don't recall Dawn programming it to be quite so... intense for the first iteration of the simulation. I had to use a little extra strength to remain in my seat."
"We added a few frills," Jim remarked with a casual shrug, his tone betraying a hint of amusement at their recent antics. "For effect."
Turning towards Saavik, who had observed their exchange with the same detached demeanor as Spock, Jim posed a question with a playful edge. "Well, Lieutenant, are you going down with the sinking ship?" His words hung in the air momentarily, the rhetorical nature of the question evident even as Saavik took a moment to collect her thoughts before responding.
Saavik's reply was measured and devoid of emotion, her calm exterior belying the complexity of her inner thoughts. "The simulation is extremely effective," she acknowledged, her gaze steady as she met Jim's eyes.
"It's meant to be," Jim affirmed, nodding in agreement. He couldn't help but notice Saavik's composure, which remained unruffled despite the intensity of the simulation—a stark contrast to the disheveled state of most trainees upon exiting the simulator.
However, Saavik wasn't content to simply accept the simulation's effectiveness without question. "But I question its realism," she stated, her tone carrying a hint of skepticism.
Jim arched an eyebrow, intrigued by her perspective. "You think it's an effective simulation, and you think it's unrealistic?" he inquired, genuinely curious to hear her reasoning.
"Yes, sir," Saavik confirmed, her voice steady and assured. "In your experience, how often have the Klingons sent ten cruisers after a single Starfleet vessel?"
Buffy, who had been listening to their conversation, chimed in with a thoughtful observation of her own. "She has a point," she interjected. "I don't remember when you commanded the Enterprise the Klingons ever sending that many cruisers after us."
"That is the point, Buffy," Jim explained patiently, his tone gentle yet firm as he sought to elucidate the purpose behind the simulation. "It's a no-win scenario. In fact, that is one of the things left over from Dawn's iteration of the simulation. Starfleet has expanded on the simulation since, but Dawn programmed the first iteration to be a no-win scenario."
As Buffy absorbed Jim's explanation, he turned his attention back to Saavik, his expression serious as he emphasized the significance of the training exercise. "That's something any commander may have to face at any time."
Saavik nodded thoughtfully, her mind grappling with the weight of Jim's words. "I had not considered that," she admitted, her demeanor reflective as she processed the implications of the simulation.
"By now, you know pretty well how you deal with life, Lieutenant," Jim continued, his gaze steady as he addressed Saavik directly. He refrained from including Buffy in his statement, recognizing that what he was about to say pertained solely to Saavik's future. "But how you deal with death is important, too, wouldn't you agree?"
Saavik opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat, her expression betraying a hint of uncertainty.
"Think about it, Lieutenant," Jim urged gently, his voice carrying a note of encouragement. "Just think about it. Carry on." With that, he turned to leave, ascending the stairs to come face-to-face with Dr. McCoy. "What's the matter with you?" he inquired softly, noting the solemnity in McCoy's expression.
"You don't think you could manage to push just a little bit harder, do you?" McCoy's voice was soft, carrying a hint of concern as he addressed Jim.
Jim's scowl deepened, his brows furrowing in frustration. "They've got to learn, Doctor," he replied firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "We can't keep the reins forever. Galloping around the cosmos is a game for the young."
"Buffy's not young," McCoy pointed out, motioning towards the Slayer, who, despite her youthful appearance, possessed over three centuries of life experience.
"Physically she is," Jim clarified, his expression softening as he considered Buffy's unique circumstances. "She will be for the next few hundred years—always in her twenties. Not like you or I, who were closer to her age when we first met her."
With that, Jim turned and left, his departure signaling the end of their conversation. McCoy, Uhura, and Spock followed suit, exiting the simulation with a sense of solemnity lingering in the air.
"Commander," Saavik spoke up, her gaze shifting towards Buffy, who remained beside her, the only one left in the room besides Saavik herself. "May I ask something? How did you handle..."
"The Kobayashi Maru scenario," Buffy finished for her, her voice calm and composed despite the weight of the question. "This is my first time in the simulation. My rank was given to me before my wife programmed the first iteration of the simulation."
Saavik regarded Buffy with a quizzical expression, her curiosity piqued by the Slayer's enigmatic response. As Buffy departed, leaving Saavik to ponder her words, the air was filled with an aura of mystery, hinting at the depths of experience and resilience that lay within the seemingly unassuming Commander.
March 26, 2285
U.S.S. Reliant
Personal Log, Captain Dawn Summers, Acting First Officer, Chief Medical Officer. U.S.S. Reliant reporting. On orbital approach to Ceti Alpha VI, continuing our search for a planet to serve as a test site for the Genesis experiment. This will be the sixteenth world we have visited; so far, our attempts to fulfill all the requirements for the test site have met with failure. On a side note I talked with Buffy this morning; she took the Kobayashi Maru. She got high marks from Jim; I expect the next time the two of us accept a position on a ship she will likely sit at the helm. Sadly, though she said she passed up on commanding the Enterprise, she had recommended that Spock be given the position instead. I have been wondering if her lack of interest in command is a result of when we were still in Sunnydale and my betrayal.
Dawn looked up at her commanding officer, Captain Clark Terrell, who lounged back in his seat with a relaxed yet authoritative demeanor. His posture exuded confidence, a sharp contrast to the tension that had been building over their seemingly endless search. "Is the probe data for Ceti Alpha on-line?" he inquired, his voice carrying the undertone of a seasoned leader accustomed to managing complex operations.
"Aye, sir," Dawn responded promptly, her fingers deftly maneuvering over the console. With a few keystrokes, she brought the data up on the viewscreen. The screen now displayed a detailed image of Ceti Alpha VI, the planet currently under scrutiny.
When Dawn had accepted her promotion and the position on the U.S.S. Reliant, she had envisioned a brief, straightforward assignment. The reality had proven far different. Several months had passed since she had last seen Buffy, her partner, and the distance between them felt like an ever-widening chasm. The Reliant had been on a relentless quest to identify lifeless worlds—planets of the right size, orbiting the correct type of star, and located within a star system otherwise uninhabited. Finding such planets proved to be a daunting task. They had inspected fifteen seemingly barren worlds, only to find that each fell short of the experimental parameters they were mandated to meet.
Terrell activated the probe data, which now appeared as a corner overlay on the viewscreen. Alongside it, he displayed a block of information detailing their observations on the way in. He scrutinized the data, his gaze shifting between the overlay and the main screen. "I see what you mean about the discrepancies, Dawn," he acknowledged, his voice thoughtful. As he assessed the screen, he absently stroked the short black hair of his curly beard, a habit of contemplation.
The probe data revealed twenty planets: fourteen were small, rocky inner planets, three were gas giants, and three were outer eccentrics. However, what the Reliant had observed during its approach was a different story. Only nineteen planets were visible, with only thirteen classified as inner planets.
"I've been working on that," Dawn said, her tone reflecting the depth of her analysis. "There are two main possibilities. One is that Ceti Alpha was surveyed by one of the earliest probes, and their data wasn't always entirely reliable. Additionally, archival preservation of that data has been rather sloppy. The other possibility is that the system has undergone some alterations since the probe's visit."
"Doesn't sound too likely," Terrell said, his skepticism evident. His expression remained skeptical, though not dismissive.
"Probe error is fairly common," Dawn replied, her voice steady. She had seen the flaws in early probe data often enough to know that discrepancies were part of the process.
Terrell glanced back at Dawn with a grin that seemed to lighten the mood on the bridge. "You mean maybe we think we're headed for a barren rock, and we'll end up finding a garden spot instead?"
"I hope not," Dawn said, her tone tinged with weariness. "I'm ready to get home to Buffy." The mention of Buffy brought a momentary smile to her lips, a reminder of what she was striving to return to.
"She took the Kobayashi Maru, didn't she?" Terrell asked, his curiosity evident.
"She did," Dawn replied, her pride in Buffy apparent. "She said Jim had nothing but praise for her." She glanced back at her station, then back to Terrell, refocusing on the matter at hand. "Scans confirm the originals on the planet itself—rock, sand, and a corrosive atmosphere."
"Three cheers for the corrosive atmosphere," Mr. Beach quipped from his console, eliciting a ripple of laughter from the bridge crew. The humor provided a brief respite from the tension of their mission.
"I agree one hundred percent, Mr. Beach," Terrell said, his tone upbeat despite the challenges they faced. "Take us in."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"Standard orbit, Mr. Beach," Captain Terrell ordered a couple of hours later, his voice cutting through the subdued hum of the bridge.
"Standard orbit, sir," the helm officer responded, his hands deftly adjusting the controls as the starship settled into its designated position around the planet.
Terrell, his face marked by the weariness of prolonged vigilance, shifted his attention to the main viewscreen. "What do we have on the surface scan?" he inquired, the expectation of routine data evident in his tone.
"No change, Captain," Dawn replied, her fingers hovering over the console as she scanned the latest readouts. "Except..."
The air on the bridge thickened with apprehension, and a collective groan rose from the crew. The sound was a mix of frustration and disbelief, reflecting the mounting tension among the team. Each crew member on the bridge turned to face Dawn with varying degrees of irritation or outright hostility, their expressions mirroring the exasperation of repeated setbacks. On the opposite side of the upper bridge, the communications officer muttered an expletive under their breath, their frustration palpable.
Terrell, feeling the weight of his crew's collective frustration, hunched his shoulders for a moment before forcing himself to adopt a more composed demeanor. He rose from his seat and walked up the stairs to stand next to Dawn, his gaze fixed on the display screen. "Don't tell me you've got something," he said, his voice tinged with weary resignation.
"One scanner has picked up on something biological," Dawn admitted, her tone cautious. She shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the crew's scrutiny, knowing that any deviation from the expected data was likely to be met with irritation.
"What are the chances that the scanner's out of adjustment?" Terrell asked, his skepticism evident as he scrutinized the data on the screen.
"I just checked it out," Dawn said, her voice steady despite the mounting tension. "Twice."
"Maybe it's pre-biotic," Beach suggested, his voice carrying a note of hopeful speculation as he peered at the readings with a furrowed brow.
Terrell chuckled, the sound a brief escape from the mounting tension. "Come on, Stoney. That's something we've been through before, too. Of all the things Marcus won't go for, tampering with pre-biotics is probably top of the list." His smile, though genuine, did little to ease the frustration hanging in the air.
"Maybe it's pre-pre-biotic," Beach quipped wryly, his attempt at levity falling flat amidst the heavy atmosphere.
This time, the bridge fell into an uneasy silence. The humor failed to lift the spirits of the crew, who remained focused on the glaring issues at hand.
"All right, get Dr. Marcus on the horn," Terrell instructed with a sigh of resignation. "At least we can suggest transplantation. Again." His voice carried the weary acceptance of having to revisit a solution that had previously been dismissed.
Dawn sighed softly to herself, her thoughts drifting as she contemplated the upcoming interaction. She had yet to meet Dr. Marcus in person, but she was well-acquainted with the formidable reputation the scientist held, thanks to the stories and comments relayed by Kirk.
Ceti Alpha VI
Dr. Marcus had suggested they beam down to see if it was something that was pre-biotic and possibly if it could be transplanted.
The wind nearly knocked Dawn over as soon as she lost the protection of the transporter beam. It was times like this she wished being Millennial gave her some of Buffy's abilities. She clenched her fists, feeling the gusts of wind whip around her. The relentless force of nature on Ceti Alpha VI reminded her of the harshness of the universe beyond the stars, a stark contrast to the familiar comfort of a starship.
She looked around at Ceti Alpha VI, her visor-covered gaze taking in the desolation. It was one of the nastiest, most inhospitable places she had ever been, and that was saying something considering how long she had been alive. The barren landscape stretched out before her, a testament to the unforgiving nature of this world. Driven by the storm, the sand screamed against her pressure suit, a constant reminder of the hostile environment.
Captain Terrell materialized beside her, his presence a reassuring anchor in the midst of the howling winds. He looked around, his expression masked by his helmet, and opened a channel to the Reliant. Dawn could hear the distortion in the transmission, a testament to the harsh conditions they were facing.
"Terrell to Reliant."
"Reliant. Beach here, Captain." The transmission wavered, the voice on the other end struggling to break through the interference. "Pretty poor reception, sir."
Dawn couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation as she listened to the distant voice of their crewmate on the ship. The vastness of space, both in terms of distance and the hostile environment around them, weighed heavily on her.
"It will do, Stoney. We're down. No evidence of life or anything else."
"I copy, sir." The response came through, though the connection remained tenuous.
"Look, I don't want to listen to this static all afternoon. I'll call you, say, every half hour."
The static-filled response from the ship was a stark reminder of their isolation on this desolate planet. The captain's determination to maintain contact with the Reliant was a lifeline in this unforgiving wilderness.
"... Aye, sir," came the acknowledgment from the other end, a hint of concern in the crewman's voice.
Kyle broke in with a cautionary reminder, his voice laced with concern. "Remember about staying in the open, Captain."
"Don't fuss, Mr. Kyle. Terrell out." He shut down the transmission and turned on his tricorder, his focus now on the task at hand.
Dawn's arm on Terrell's chest caught his attention, and he looked at her with a quizzical expression, silently questioning her actions. Her response was quick and to the point, a reflection of her pragmatic nature.
"Precaution," she said, her voice tinged with a mix of confidence and vulnerability. She knew her full file held a wealth of information about her unique abilities and experiences, and it was essential for her commanding officer to understand her capabilities fully.
Terrell, realizing he hadn't had the chance to delve into the extensive file yet, inquired, "You need contact?"
Dawn's response was measured and reassuring, her eyes conveying her trust in their teamwork. "Only to draw some energy from you," she explained, her hand lifting away from his chest. "I can store it for later use." Her ability to harness and store energy was just one of the many extraordinary aspects of her being, a testament to her Millennial heritage.
She then pulled out her tricorder, her fingers expertly navigating the device. Her focus shifted to the task at hand as she scanned their surroundings, searching for any signs of what they were looking for.
"You getting anything, Dawn?" Terrell inquired; his concern evident in his voice.
"No, nothing yet," Dawn replied, her tone carrying a hint of disappointment.
"You're sure these are the right coordinates?" Terrell questioned, a touch of doubt creeping into his voice.
"Remember that garden spot you mentioned, Captain? Well, this is it," Dawn joked, trying to inject a touch of humor into the tense situation
"I can't see a damned thing," Terrell said, his frustration evident as he struggled to make out their surroundings. He set off toward the slight rise indicated by the tricorder, and Dawn followed, her steps weighed down by the relentless wind and abrasive sand.
The elements seemed determined to test their resolve, but Dawn remained vigilant, her tricorder in hand. She scanned the area but couldn't detect any promising signs. "I'm getting nothing, Captain," she reported, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment. The inhospitable terrain was proving to be a formidable adversary.
There was no immediate reply from Terrell as he pressed on, his determination unwavering. Dawn continued to follow him, her boots sinking into the treacherous sand with each step. The wind howled around them, a constant reminder of the harsh conditions they were up against.
As they reached the top of a hillock, Dawn finally caught up to her commanding officer, her breaths coming in short bursts from the exertion of the climb. She looked at him, expecting to see more barren landscape, but her astonishment was palpable.
The sand dune they had climbed formed a windbreak, creating a small hollow that offered a brief respite from the storm's fury. Dawn's visor cleared slightly, allowing her to see a distance of about a hundred meters.
In that hundred meters lay a half-buried group of ruined buildings.
"Whatever it is," Clark Terrell said, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "it isn't prebiotic." He cautiously stepped over the knife-sharp crest of the dune and slid down its concave leeward side, his tricorder still in hand.
Dawn didn't immediately respond as her eyes remained fixed on the enigmatic buildings. Her instincts were on high alert, and she couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that had settled in the back of her mind. Despite the discovery of the structures, a sense of foreboding lingered.
She finally decided to follow Terrell down the dune, her boots sinking into the sand as she made her way toward the structures. Each step was filled with a growing sense of unease, like a shadow that had fallen over her optimism.
Terrell continued to lead the way, passing by the first of the constructed buildings. It became increasingly clear that what they had stumbled upon was not a product of natural forces but the work of humanoid hands.
"Look, there's the airlock. Let's check it out," Terrell suggested, his curiosity and determination propelling him forward.
Dawn hesitated for a moment, her unease growing stronger with every passing second. She knew she had to voice her concerns, even if they might not be well-received. "Captain, I have a bad feeling," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I think we should go back to Reliant."
Terrell's response held a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. "Is that in your professional opinion as my Number One or as someone who has lived for a few hundred years and has more experience doing this than anyone other than a Vulcan has?" he asked, his question probing her dual role as a Starfleet officer and a Millennial with a unique perspective on the galaxy.
"I can't explain it," Dawn admitted, her voice filled with unease. "Something at the back of my mind is screaming at me to get out of here."
Terrell regarded her with a thoughtful expression, aware of the depth of her experience and instincts. He wondered if she was picking up on something with her empathic gift, something that eluded their tricorders and scanners. "Do you sense anything?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Dawn hesitated for a moment, contemplating her inner feelings. "I haven't been trying," she admitted, a hint of doubt in her voice. "After all, there wasn't supposed to be humanoid life here."
Terrell considered her words carefully, weighing the risks and possibilities. "Well then, come along," he said, his sense of duty and compassion driving him forward. "Till we know more, we have to assume they are in need of rescue."
Dawn sighed, knowing that he was right. Her concerns and instincts were valid, but they couldn't leave potential survivors stranded without investigating further. She nodded in agreement, a mix of determination and apprehension in her gaze.
Together, they made their way into the airlock, the inner doors sliding open with a soft hiss. Dawn had to wait a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness, but as her vision cleared, she took in the unexpected sight before her. Beds and tables, a book, an empty coffee cup—all signs of people who had once lived here. The question that hung in the air was, where were they now?
"We've got a breathable atmosphere," Terrell said, his relief evident as he unfastened his helmet. The hiss of escaping air was a welcome sound, and Dawn couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in the presence of familiar air. She followed his lead and removed her own helmet, taking in the fresh, clean scent of the enclosed environment.
Dawn glanced at her tricorder, confirming Terrell's observation. The readings indicated that the proportions of oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon dioxide were all within normal ranges, with barely a trace of the noxious chemicals that had characterized the outside air.
"What the hell is all this? Did they crash? And, where are they?" Terrell questioned aloud as he moved into the entrance of the next chamber, which appeared to be a kitchen.
Inside the kitchen, a faint cloud of steam rose from a pot of stew on the stove. The sight of the meal left simmering on the stove only deepened the mystery. It was as if the occupants had vanished without a trace, leaving their everyday activities frozen in time.
Dawn followed Terrell into a laboratory, her eyes scanning the equipment and surroundings. She watched as he examined the various instruments and devices, his curiosity driving him forward. His abrupt exclamation caught her attention as he leaped away from a large glass tank filled with sand.
"Christ!" Terrell exclaimed, his sudden reaction causing Dawn to raise her hand in readiness, her Millennial abilities poised to respond. "Captain, what?"
"There's something in that damned tank!" Terrell exclaimed; his cautious approach matched by the readiness of his phaser. The sand in the tank behaved in a way that defied their expectations, roiling like water, and a long shape cut a stroke across the surface.
Dawn remained on high alert; her eyes fixed on the strange phenomenon within the tank. Her instincts told her that they were dealing with something entirely unexpected.
"It's all right," Terrell said, his voice a mix of reassurance and uncertainty. He was acutely aware of Dawn's unique experiences and the things she had witnessed in the early twentieth century. "It's just some kind of animal or-"
But his attempt to rationalize the situation was abruptly cut off by a quiet, gurgling sound—a child's voice, speaking to itself, playing with sounds. It was a sound that sent shivers down their spines, a sound that defied explanation.
Terrell started toward the source of the sound, motioning for Dawn to follow. She did so without hesitation, their steps leading them through a crumpled and deformed passageway that opened into the next chamber.
All alone, in the middle of the room, sitting on the floor, the baby reached out to them with chubby arms, gurgling and giggling with pure, innocent joy. The sight of the child, so utterly alone in this abandoned place, tugged at their hearts.
Terrell climbed down from the sideways entrance; his approach cautious yet filled with a warmth that only a child's presence could elicit. "Well, kid, hi, didn't your folks even leave a babysitter?" he said, trying to engage with the child.
Dawn's attention, however, was drawn elsewhere. Her eyes roved around the room, taking in the peculiar surroundings. On one wall, a collection of sharp, shining swords gleamed ominously. She recognized a few titles of the books on a nearby shelf: King Lear, The Bible. She picked up the Bible and examined it closely, her heart sinking as she confirmed that it was a pre-World War III edition, a relic of her own childhood in the 1990s.
And then, the crushing realization hit her like a tidal wave. Hanging from the floor-wall was an insignia, one that sent a shiver down her spine and confirmed her worst fears.
Botany Bay.
Dawn's eyes widened in alarm as she immediately opened her empathic senses, reaching out in search of the familiar presence. Her voice trembled with urgency as she turned to Terrell, her expression filled with dread. "We have to leave, now."
"Dawn?" Terrell said, concern etching his features as he wondered what had prompted her urgency.
"These people aren't friendly," Dawn said urgently, her grip on Terrell's shoulder firm as she began to drag him toward the passageway. Her instincts were on high alert, and she was not willing to take any chances in this increasingly ominous situation.
"What is it you sense?" Terrell inquired, his trust in her judgment unwavering even in the face of the unknown.
"Nothing yet," Dawn admitted, her empathic senses still on high alert but not yet providing her with concrete information.
She forcibly pushed the captain through the hatch, her determination evident in her actions, and then climbed after him. The narrow and battered companionway offered little room for resistance, and Terrell had little choice but to follow her lead.
As they moved hurriedly through the confines of the ship, Terrell couldn't help but seek answers. "Is this something to do with something that I haven't read in your files?" he asked, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.
Dawn's response was solemn, her gaze fixed on their surroundings. "This isn't in my files," she said, her words hinting at the gravity of the situation they found themselves in.
They quickly donned their helmets, fastening them securely, as they prepared to leave the mysterious and potentially dangerous ship. With a sense of urgency, they entered the airlock, sealing themselves within.
As the airlock door opened, she was met with a wave of emotions. It wasn't Terrell's emotions that Dawn felt, but rather the emotions of the man who had once tried to steal the Enterprise, the infamous Khan Noonien Singh.
Dawn raised her hand, ready to defend herself and her captain, but before she could react, a sudden, unexpected attack came from the side. A man appeared out of nowhere, knocking her hand down and forcefully pushing her back into the airlock.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Captain Terrell's desperate attempt to clarify their mission as a rescue party echoed through the cavernous chamber, the words falling on deaf ears as tension thickened in the air. The survivors, their faces etched with distrust and fear, remained unmoved by his plea. The flicker of hope that they had come as saviors faded with each passing moment.
Suddenly, a survivor, his face etched with a mix of gratitude and resentment, lashed out with a violent backhand. The force of the blow struck Captain Terrell like a thunderbolt, the sound echoing through the metallic confines of the room. The impact sent him reeling, his bulky suit unable to fully absorb the weight of the assault. He staggered; the disorientation evident on his face as he struggled to regain his composure.
Dawn, witnessing the brutal assault on her captain, felt a surge of anger and concern welling within her. However, she wisely chose silence, understanding the futility of protesting their capture in this precarious situation. Her empathetic gaze focused on Terrell, the gravity of their predicament sinking in.
The helmets that once shielded them from the harsh unknown and Terrell's trusty phaser had been mercilessly confiscated, leaving them with nothing but the thin layers of their suits for protection. The cold, metallic surroundings emphasized their vulnerability. Four imposing guards formed a tight perimeter around them, their watchful eyes adding to the sense of captivity. A larger group of survivors, their faces a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, observed the unfolding drama in tense silence.
As the airlock began its ominous cycle, forcing the captives to attention, Dawn and Terrell found themselves facing the imposing doorway. The anticipation hung in the air like a palpable threat. Then, with an eerie hush, Khan, the once would-be conqueror of galaxies, stepped out of the chamber.
Dawn's voice trembled as she uttered his name, her breath catching in her throat. "Khan..."
The man before her had aged significantly since their last encounter. Time had etched lines on his face, turning his once-dark hair into a cascade of white, streaked with iron gray. Yet, despite the physical toll, the aura of power and self-assurance that had always defined Khan remained undiminished.
Khan's penetrating gaze shifted toward Dawn, his predatory eyes locking onto her with an unrelenting intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. As he approached the two captives, his presence seemed to amplify, casting a shadow that stretched over the cold, metallic floor. The weight of his scrutiny jolted Captain Terrell fully back to consciousness, but Khan dismissed him with a casual indifference, as if Terrell were nothing more than an insignificant speck in the vastness of the universe.
"I don't know you," Khan declared, his voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity. He then turned his attention to Dawn, and in a surprising shift, his demeanor softened slightly. "But you," he said, his tone taking on a touch of unexpected gentleness, "I remember you, Dawn. A woman from my own time. I never hoped to see you again."
Dawn met Khan's gaze with a mixture of familiarity and wariness, her eyes betraying the intricate dance of memories and emotions that played out within her. She knew all too well who he was and the dark history associated with him. The past echoed in the depths of her eyes, and she couldn't shake the haunting memories of a time long gone.
"Dawn, who is this man?" Terrell attempted to reassert some authority; his voice strained with an underlying tension.
"Khan Noonien Singh," she replied, her tone carrying the weight of history and the scars of a bygone era. "He's from my time. When I was but a child, he was one of the men who seized control of parts of Asia during the Eugenics Wars."
Khan's only response to Dawn's revelation was a slow, enigmatic smile that played across his features. It was a smile carrying the weight of decades, hinting at a deep well of knowledge and experience, a testament to the trials and tribulations he had endured.
Captain Terrell, attempting to reassert authority in the face of this enigmatic figure, erupted with anger, demanding answers. "What's the meaning of this treatment?" he declared; his voice fueled by frustration. "I demand—"
However, Khan, with a calm yet definitive demeanor, cut him off before he could finish his demand. "You, sir, are in a position to demand nothing," he declared, his voice mild but carrying an air of unassailable authority. "I, on the other hand, am in a position to grant nothing." His sweeping gesture encompassed the people surrounding them and the stark surroundings. "You see here all that remains of the crew of my ship, Botany Bay, marooned here eighteen years ago by Captain James T. Kirk. I can grant nothing, for we have nothing."
Terrell, still attempting to reason with Khan's ragtag group of men and women, pleaded with a sense of urgency, "Listen to me, you people—"
Yet again, Khan interrupted him, his tone calm yet unyielding. "Save your strength, Captain," he advised, the air of authority in his voice unwavering. "They have been sworn to me, and I to them, since two hundred years before you were born. We owe each other our lives." He cast a kind look toward Dawn, the momentary softness in his gaze revealing a connection that transcended time. "My dear Dawn, do you mean you never told him the tale?" Khan shifted his focus back to Terrell. "Do you mean James Kirk never amused you by telling the story of how he 'rescued' my ship and its company from the cryogenic prison of deep space? He never made sport of us in public? Captain, I'm touched."
Terrell, clearly confused by the unexpected turn of events and the reference to Admiral Kirk, responded firmly, "I don't even know Admiral Kirk!"
Khan's response, fueled by bitterness and resentment, reverberated through the tense atmosphere as he spoke of Kirk's promotion with a mixture of sarcasm and disdain. "Admiral Kirk? Ah, so he gained a reward for his brave deeds and his acts of chivalry—for exiling seventy people to a barren heap of sand!"
Dawn, unable to tolerate the distorted narrative, interjected with a firm and resolute voice. "That is not why he was promoted. And we didn't maroon you here. We left you on a world that was filled with life."
Khan's response came as a whispered admission, a revelation filled with pain and regret. "Yes," he acknowledged; his voice rough with emotion. "Ceti Alpha V was that, for a while."
As the weight of the truth settled, Dawn's memory unveiled itself, and she recalled the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. The memory had been trying to shake itself loose, and now it came rushing back. She, along with Buffy, Kirk, and the crew of the Enterprise, had left Khan and his people to start anew on Ceti Alpha V.
"Dawn," Khan said, his voice tinged with hurt and a trace of bitterness, "did you forget? Did you forget where you left me? You did, I see... I would have expected you to remember. After all, you are not one of the ordinaries. You are like us."
"How did you manage to get here?" Dawn questioned, her curiosity mingling with a growing sense of realization. "You should still have been on Ceti Alpha V."
"This is Ceti Alpha V!" Khan's frustrated cry echoed through the metallic chamber; the pain of past loss evident in his voice. "Ceti Alpha VI, our beautiful moon, you did not survey that, did you, Dawn? You never bothered to note its tectonic instability. It exploded, Dawn. It exploded! It laid waste to our planet. I enabled us to survive, I, with nothing to work with but what you see around you."
Dawn, grappling with the weight of their mistake, absorbed the shocking revelation. The reality of their oversight, the consequences of their negligence, unfolded before her with painful clarity. "Captain Kirk was your host—" she began, attempting to piece together the intricacies of their shared history.
"And he never appreciated the honor fate offered him," Khan interrupted, his anger palpable. "I was a prince on Earth; I stood before millions and led them. He could not bear the thought that I might return to power. He could only conquer me by playing at being a god. His Zeus to my Prometheus: he put me here, in adamantine chains, to guard a barren rock!"
Dawn, connecting the dots of their tangled narrative, started to mention another episode. "You tried to steal the Enterprise—"
Khan abruptly bent down, locking eyes with Dawn, his gaze intense and probing. "Are you his eagle, Dawn? Did you come to finish the job you started?" His words were filled with suspicion and a hint of desperation, as if seeking answers to questions that had haunted him through the ages. He then turned his attention to Captain Terrell, his voice laced with bitterness. "What of you, Captain? Perhaps you are my Chiron. Did you come to take my place in purgatory?"
Terrell, bewildered by Khan's cryptic references, stammered, "I... I don't know what you mean."
But Khan's anger flared, and the fiery tide of his frustration continued to spill forth. "No, you do not! You know nothing of sacrifice. Not you, not James T. Kirk," he spat out Kirk's name with contempt, "no one but the courageous Lieutenant McGiver, who defied your precious admiral, who gave up everything to join me in exile."
Dawn, sensing the complex emotions that Khan held regarding Lieutenant McGiver, couldn't resist her curiosity. Her question hung in the charged air like an unspoken invitation to delve deeper into the enigmatic past. "What happened to her?"
Khan, ignoring her inquiry, swung around to face them again. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, the vulnerability contrasting sharply with the steeliness that had defined him. His self-control returned, his emotions simmering beneath the surface like a volatile force ready to erupt.
"You did not come seeking me," Khan observed, his tone shifting to one of curiosity and suspicion. "You believed this was Ceti Alpha VI. Why would you choose to visit a barren world? Why are you here?"
Dawn, gripped by a mixture of fear and uncertainty, remained silent, her gaze locked with Khan's. The unspoken truth lingered in the charged atmosphere, an uncharted territory they were unwilling to traverse.
"Foolish, Dawn," Khan murmured, a strangely tender touch caressing her cheek before tracing a path down to her chin. But the gentleness in his touch abruptly vanished as he grabbed Dawn's jaw, forcing her head upward with brutal force. The shift in demeanor was swift and unsettling, from fatherly concern to a menacing grip that spoke of power and dominance.
But in a swift and abrupt motion, Khan turned away from Dawn, redirecting his aggression toward Terrell. The change was as sudden as a storm's fury, and before Terrell could comprehend the shift, Khan seized the captain by the throat. He hoisted Terrell off the ground with chilling ease, cutting off his air supply, all the while maintaining his cold, calculating demeanor.
"Why?" Khan demanded, his voice sharp with a mixture of curiosity and anger. Terrell, unable to speak, could only manage a weak shake of his head in response. Khan's grip tightened, and Terrell's desperate attempts to free himself grew increasingly futile. Choking and gasping for air, Terrell clawed at Khan's gloved hand, his vision dimming as consciousness slipped away.
Khan's cruel smile persisted as he noted Terrell's inability to respond. With a dismissive gesture, he opened his fist, allowing Terrell's limp body to collapse onto the cold, metallic floor. The captain curled into himself, coughing and gasping for breath.
"It does not please him to answer me," Khan remarked coldly, his tone laced with indifference. He seemed unmoved by Terrell's condition, seemingly confident that the captain would provide answers in due time.
Khan signaled to his people, who promptly appeared at his command. Without hesitation, they dragged Dawn and Terrell into the dimly lit laboratory, depositing them unceremoniously next to a mysterious sand-filled tank.
Moving with an air of authority, Khan retrieved a small strainer, its metal mesh glinting in the dim light of the laboratory. With precise movements, he dipped the strainer into the sand-filled tank, lifting it slowly to let the sand shower out and revealing the struggling creatures he had captured.
"Did you, perhaps, come exploring?" Khan mused, his voice carrying a hint of sadistic amusement. He thrust the strainer in front of Dawn. "Then let me introduce you to the only remaining species native to Ceti Alpha V." As the last of the sand spilled away, two long, thin eels writhed together, their tails lashing and narrow-pointed jaws snapping. They were the same sickly yellow as the sand and lacked eyes. "Ceti eels," Khan declared, his voice dripping with disdain. "When our world became a desert, only a desert creature could survive."
Khan took Dawn's helmet from Joachim with a nod of gratitude and allowed one of the eels to flop into it. "Thank you, Joachim," Khan said. Joachim followed suit, placing the second eel into Terrell's helmet. "They killed, they slowly and horribly killed, twenty of my people," Khan told Dawn and Terrell. "One of them... was my wife."
Dawn could feel the intensity of his emotions. She couldn't help but empathize with his pain and loss. "I'm sorry," she offered sincerely, acknowledging the tragedy that had befallen him and his people.
Khan's response, however, was laced with bitterness and a desire for retribution. "You may blame her death on your Admiral Kirk," he said, his voice tinged with a vengeful edge. "Do you want to know how she died?" He swirled Dawn's helmet in circles. "The young eel enters its victim's body, seeks out the brain, and entwines itself around the cerebral cortex. As a side effect, the prey becomes extremely susceptible to suggestion." He came toward Dawn. "The eel grows, my dear Dawn, within the captive's brain. First it causes madness. Then the host becomes paralyzed - unable to move, unable to feel anything but the twisting of the creature within the skull. I learned the progression well. I watched it happen... to my wife."
Dawn looked at the helmet, a sinking feeling of dread settling in her chest as she realized Khan's intentions. Unlike Terrell, her suffering would be prolonged, her immortality ensuring that she would endure this agonizing torment for hundreds of years.
"For you, death will be slow, of course," Khan confirmed, his voice dripping with the callous certainty of her impending agony. "After all, you once told me you could not die for several hundred more years. For you, your death will be an extremely slow and extremely painful lingering death that will last hundreds of years. Before then, you will tell me what I want to know. Now you must meet my pet, Dawn. You will find that it is not... quite... domesticated."
With a cold and ruthless determination, Khan seized the helmet and slammed it over Dawn's head, securing it in place with a chilling finality. The eel, unceremoniously deposited into the confined space, tumbled against her face, its tail lashing against her cheek as it embarked on its horrifying journey. Dawn understood that this time there was no hope of rescue, no last-minute salvation from Buffy or any other ally.
The eel, sensing the warmth of a living body, ceased its frantic thrashing and began to crawl, probing with its sharp snout. It slithered through her hair, coiling and anchoring itself, continuing its relentless advance. The grotesque dance unfolded with an eerie inevitability, a macabre spectacle in the dimly lit laboratory.
It curved down behind her ear, slid beneath the lobe, and glided up again.
And then, it touched her eardrum.
Dawn's world exploded into agony. The rush of blood in her head, the searing pain, and the feeling of violation overwhelmed her. She screamed, the sound echoing through the room, a stark and haunting testament to the torment she now endured. Her body convulsed involuntarily, the pain coursing through her like a relentless tide, drowning her in a sea of anguish. In that excruciating moment, Dawn's world was reduced to the piercing pain inflicted by the merciless creature within her, a nightmare from which there seemed to be no waking.
"That's better!" Khan declared with a twisted satisfaction, observing Terrell and Dawn as they seemed to calm under the insidious influence of the eel's control. The room echoed with a malevolent quiet, the air charged with the weight of their coerced submission. "Now: tell me why you are here — and tell me where I may find James Kirk."
Under the oppressive influence of the Ceti eel, Terrell and Dawn, their minds now entwined with the creature's dark influence, were compelled to reveal the secrets Khan sought. Their eyes, once filled with resistance, now glazed over with a vacant obedience as the eel's insidious control took root.
Dawn, her voice stripped of its usual strength and resilience, began to speak, her words guided by a force beyond her control. "We are here to..." March 26, 2285
Shuttle Seven
"Enterprise Shuttle Seven, you're cleared for liftoff," crackled the voice from the control tower, each word crisp and clear against the backdrop of the sprawling spaceport.
"Roger, Seattle, we copy," Sulu responded, his hands deftly adjusting the controls. With a smooth hum, he powered up the gravity fields. The shuttlecraft, small and square in its design, began to rise gracefully from the landing field. The sensation of lifting off was almost imperceptible as the shuttle ascended, leaving behind the expansive concrete of the spaceport. Sulu cast a quick, reassuring glance around the cabin, making sure his passengers—Kirk, McCoy, and Uhura—were securely strapped in their seats.
Seated beside Sulu, Buffy hummed softly, a melody that drifted through the cabin like a whisper from the past. "Is that—?" Sulu began, curiosity piqued.
"The Flyer's language?" Buffy finished with a gentle nod. "No, just a song. I haven't thought about their language in years." Her gaze was fixed on the view outside, watching as the shuttle climbed higher. The landscape below gradually transformed into a breathtaking panorama. The Earth, a vibrant mosaic of blues and greens, began to curve away beneath them. The sun gleamed like a distant star on one side of the horizon, casting a golden hue across the planet, while the other side fell into the vast, inky shadow of the terminator. "As beautiful as the first time I saw Earth from orbit," Buffy murmured, her mind drifting back to her first experience gazing upon the planet from the Enterprise-E.
With a soft sigh, she stood and moved into the passenger seats, stretching out with a sense of relaxed ease.
Kirk, who had been absorbed in a book, closed it with a deliberate motion and pushed his glasses up to the top of his head. Noticing Buffy's demeanor, he spoke with a tone of gentle concern. "You look a bit the worse for wear, Buffy. Missing Dawn?"
Buffy's gaze softened as she nodded. "A little. This is the first time we've had two separate assignments since the start of our thousand-year-long lifespan." Her voice carried a hint of nostalgia, reflecting the depth of her bond with Dawn.
Kirk's curiosity was piqued. "I've been meaning to ask, why did you recommend Spock over yourself for command of the Enterprise?"
Buffy's face lit up with a smile. "First let me say I was thrilled when I learned that I was your first choice. That said, I'm happy with what I've been doing," she replied earnestly. "Maybe someday I might be ready for command. But it's not right now." Her words, though measured, hinted at a deeper truth.
Kirk studied Buffy, having known her long enough to understand that there was more beneath the surface of her decision. He chose not to press further, respecting her silence on the matter. "Well, I have to admit for your first time at the helm during the Kobayashi Maru exam, you did pretty good," he said, his tone carrying genuine praise.
"Well, you and John were pretty good teachers," Buffy said with a smile, meeting Kirk's eyes.
"Shuttle Seven to Enterprise. Admiral Kirk's party on final approach," Sulu's voice announced over the comms system, steady and clear.
"Shuttle Seven, welcome to Enterprise. Prepare for docking," came the response from the Enterprise, the voice imbued with the familiar warmth of homecoming.
"Thank you, Enterprise, we copy," Sulu acknowledged, his tone reflecting both professionalism and a hint of nostalgia.
As Sulu expertly maneuvered the shuttle into position, the familiar hum of the ship's docking procedures began to envelop them. The shuttle craft glided smoothly towards the Enterprise, its trajectory precise and controlled. The massive structure of the starship loomed ahead, its sleek lines and imposing presence a comforting sight against the backdrop of space.
Once the shuttle was firmly in place, Kirk turned to Sulu, catching his gaze with a look of genuine appreciation. "By the way, Captain, I must thank you for coming along," Kirk said, his voice tinged with heartfelt gratitude.
Sulu's eyes lit up with a warm, nostalgic gleam. "I was delighted to get your request, Admiral," he replied, his smile broadening. "A chance to go back on board the Enterprise, to indulge in a bit of nostalgia—how could I pass it up?"
Kirk's expression turned thoughtful as he nodded in agreement. "Yes... Nevertheless, I remember how much there was to do, and how little time there seemed to be to do it in, just before I got the Enterprise. It's not very long till the end of the month—when you take command of Excelsior."
Sulu's face reflected a mix of eagerness and determination. "I'm ready, sir. I've looked forward to it for a long time," he said, his voice steady with anticipation.
"I know," Kirk said, his tone carrying a note of pride. "I took a lot of pleasure in personally cutting the orders for your first command." The words conveyed not just formality but a deep sense of personal satisfaction.
"Thank you, Admiral," Sulu responded, his gratitude evident in his tone.
"But I'm still grateful to have you at the helm for these three weeks," Kirk said with a grin. "Mr. Sulu, I don't believe those kids can steer."
Buffy, seated comfortably in her seat, rolled her eyes with a knowing smile. With Spock assuming the role of Captain of the Enterprise, she was poised to step into the role of his first officer.
Author's Note: Dawn's substitution on the Reliant is to fix something that CBS/Paramount actually missed with regards to canon. When the TOS episode of Space Seed aired, Walter Koenig who played Chekov had not even joined the cast yet. So, Chekov wasn't even in the episode. Of course, Walter Koenig when he got the script never mentioned he had not joined the show yet when that episode aired. The only time it was ever addressed was in a novel where it said Chekov was part of the night watch during that episode. That said though CBS/Paramount has never addressed in canon why Chekov knew about Khan.
Author's Note (9/4/24): During Wrath of Khan its stated that 15 years have passed between 'Space Seed' and 'Wrath of Khan.' That is incorrect according to Memory Alpha 'Space Seed' is said to take place in 2267 and 'Wrath of Khan' is said to take place in 2285. Which makes it 18 years between 'Space Seed' and 'Wrath of Khan.' So, I changed the references to it being 15 years throughout this and subsequent chapters to 18 years.
