CHAPTER 21

Spock emerged from his quarters feeling refreshed after an hour of meditation. He had spent the night in the Science Lab and had finally recreated all of the source code formulae a minute before the chronometer clicked to 5:00 AM. Experiencing a sense of satisfaction that he had not felt for a long time, he headed for the mess hall. He did not expect to see Kirk; the captain had commed him at 2:48 AM demanding to know when Spock had filed the request for software upgrades throughout the Science Department. Seven weeks ago, Spock had replied without a hint of irritation. Indeed, he would have found it impossible to become irritated—even if he admitted to such emotion—after spending the night challenging his mental capacities. Besides, the captain had sounded grumpy. It was obvious that Yeoman Rand had finally outmaneuvered the captain into clearing his backlog of datapads which was confirmed when Kirk muttered a frustrated "Damn it. I hate it when Janice is right."

Spock ate in silence. There were few people in the mess hall as the Beta shift had yet to end and the Alpha shift was still at rest. Typically it was the chiefs or department heads that rose earlier to begin their day. Montgomery Scott was sipping a cup of black coffee and speaking in hushed tones to another crewmember from his department. Hemsworth, Spock recalled, and concluded by their conversation that the unexplained power drain had nearly resolved itself as they made the return voyage to Origin. Scott sounded pleased as he murmured, "Ah knew it was that blasted magnetic storm. The more distance between it and us, the better Ah'll feel, lad."

Spock speared the last piece of blue Yakka fruit and headed for the tray deposit, returning Scott's acknowledging nod as he headed for the exit.

The corridor was empty until one of the doors to guest quarters slid open. McCoy darted out of the room. He glanced around quickly, spotted Spock, and froze.

Spock took in the rumpled clothes and the doctor's sheepish look and deduced that he had spent the night in—his eyes flashed to the door number—ah, yes, those were Aggie's quarters.

"Good morning, Doctor," Spock said, raising an eyebrow and speaking in his most neutral voice.

"Oh, cut the crap, Spock," McCoy grouched, making an annoyed face. "Yes, I spent the night with Aggie. It's not what you think."

Spock lifted his other eyebrow to join the first to imply that he had certainly not been thinking what the doctor had been implying. Besides, Spock did not detect the scent of coitus and sweat that so often lingered on the captain's clothes after shore leave.

"Don't you raise your Vulcan eyebrows at me," McCoy said sharply but without any true ire. He fell in step with Spock as they headed to the turbo-lift.

"I trust that things are going . . . well?" Spock inquired cautiously once they were inside the lift. His lack of explicitness conveyed his sensitivity to the issue, and McCoy smiled in understanding.

"Yeah, Spock. Things are good."

"I am"— Spock paused, searching for the word that would convey his thoughts on the matter— "Most pleased to hear it, Doctor."

The lift doors slid open on Deck Five and McCoy gave him a look of genuine gratitude. "Thanks, Spock," he said, stepping out of the lift.

The doors slid shut and Spock continued upward to the bridge.

"Commander."

Lieutenant Toplow greeted the head of his department and stood respectfully to one side of the science station. "I've been analyzing the strength and speed of the magnetic storm and the affects on Origin," he explained, motioning to the viewer. "I've made a recording with increased magnification and compressed playback time, if you are interested."

"To what degree are the long range scanners picking up changes?" Spock asked, bending to look through the viewer.

"Twenty percent. It's unfortunate that we aren't able to collect more data so soon after the storm passed. It would have been vital in determining the survival rates on a water world."

"Indeed," Spock said, straightening. "Although your findings will prove useful nonetheless. Continue to monitor Origin from my station in the Science Lab. Direct Ensign Moriss to takeover when your shift ends."

"Yes, Sir," Toplow said, straightening respectfully. It was a rare privilege to have access to the superior scanners of the commander's personal station.

Lieutenant Toplow traded places with Lieutenant Uhura on the turbo-lift. Spock noted that the communications officer looked tired as she went to the communication console.

"Morning, Nyota," Palmer said, cheerful that her shift was coming to an early end. "How'd you sleep?"

"About as good as a Melosian."

Palmer frowned. "I thought Melosians didn't sleep?"

"Exactly!" Uhura said with forced enthusiasm. "After a few hours I gave up; I spent most of the night in the docking bay."

"Docking bay?"

Uhura held out her usually perfectly manicured nails for Palmer to see. There were flecks of paint along the nails and cuticles. "That's where they're keeping the burial pods for Aggie's, well, I call them her sisters," Uhura explained. "I really feel for that child, Elisabeth—having nobody or nothing of her own."

"I can't imagine," Palmer agreed. "Well, I'll leave you to enjoy the lovely sounds of static brought to you by the ever popular band 'All Audio Frequencies.'"

Uhura's laughter filled the bridge. "Oh, lovely! Bye, Palmer."

The morning continued quietly after that. Sulu and Chekov arrived together promptly at the start of their shift and, as Spock had expected, Kirk had commed the bridge to inform them that he was busy and would arrive later. From the sound of his haggard voice, there was little doubt that Rand was continuing with the bureaucratic housecleaning.

A miniscule white flash appeared for less than a millisecond on Spock's screen. He paused the recording and then dialed the speed down, replaying the last three seconds.

Yes, there it was again.

Strange, he thought, freezing Toplow's recording just as the flash appeared. He stared at it for a long time, making incremental adjustments with the dial. The image became slightly more defined but, with long range scanners operating at twenty percent, it remained barely discernable. He leaned back in his chair and contemplated what had caused the strange phenomenon. It wasn't a sun flare—this system's sun was old and its light weak—which meant there was little reflective light from Origin itself.

A curious thought struck Spock and he leaned over the scanner again, forwarding through the rest of the recording. The flash appeared several more times and then disappeared. A ship's propulsion units, whether they were nacelles or archaic propulsion units such as those that had been on The Ginny, would appear as a flash over a great distance as the ship made course adjustments. The fact that Toplow's recording had continued to capture flashes meant that the ship was heading for Origin itself.

A strange coincidence for a world that offered nothing of value, not even refuge from the storm.

As McCoy would say, Spock did not put "much stock" in coincidences, and he wondered if the discontinued flashes meant that the ship had become disabled or destroyed by the storm. Then again, it could simply be traveling in another direction.

But where had the ship come from? The Enterprise's scanners would have been able to pick up an approaching vessel from clear space, but Toplow's recording suggested that the ship had come through the storm. Why would a captain risk his ship to reach a lifeless planet?

Spock tapped into the long range scanners from his terminal and entered in a set of complex data points to be monitored. If there were any unexplained phenomena along the Enterprise's course heading, he would be notified immediately. Satisfied, Spock then pulled up an intricate set of formulae and let his eyes retrace the first set of symbols. Like any good book, Spock had felt a pang of regret when he'd came to the end of Aggie's equations. He decided that since there were thirty-eight point two hours left before they arrived at Origin, there was time to review a few of the more complex equations again.

Nearly three hours passed on the bridge with no sounds other than the gentle clicking of Uhura's fingers against the communication console as she continued to search for something, anything, from space beyond. She let out a frustrated sigh from time to time that informed Spock that she wasn't having any success.

Just past the three hour mark, a red light flashed on the panel above the science station and there was a soft blip, bleep, blip. Spock turned off the alert and pulled up another screen on his monitor. There was a small object in direct line with their return course to Origin. And it was approaching them at warp—Spock blinked in surprise—the speed was unheard of in any known vessel.

"Lieutenant Uhura," Spock said calmly. "Call the captain to the bridge. Immediately."

Uh-oh.

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~Coop