Chapter Text
As the captain of Starfleet’s flagship, Jim Kirk is expected to always remain calm, even under great strain. As someone who’s fought a time-travelling Romulan and his nightmare ship to stop them from destroying Earth and who’s outright died (temporarily, thanks Bones) to save the Enterprise from the lunatic megalomaniac named Khan, this is not ordinarily a difficult edict.
Right now, however, three members of his crew—two being among his closest friends and one a young Ensign who’s just begun to show what he’s capable of—are on the planet, Pyris Seven, below and not one is answering Uhura’s hails. After missing a check-in time by a whole half-an-hour.
He’s finding it more difficult to stay calm.
‘Still nothing?’ he asks, fighting the urge to go loom over Uhura’s shoulder—she hates it when he does that, and it won’t help the situation.
Uhura shakes her head. ‘No, sir.’
Jim grits his teeth. This is not good. The Enterprise crew, as they’ve grown comfortable in their places, has never been strict on regulations. They’re more relaxed, more informal, than other ships in the ‘fleet. Despite that, one thing Jim’s always been firm on is the need for frequent check-ins. He refuses to have any of his people out of contact with the ship for too long. In the three years since Nero—and especially in the last year since they began their five-year mission—there’ve been plenty of examples of why he’s so vehement about it. Sulu and Scotty both know better—and Jackson, along with the other new transfers, had to put up with Jim giving them all a lecture about it ahead of time, so he should know better too.
Something’s wrong.
‘The scanners are still not picking up any life-forms other than the landing party, Captain,’ Spock says, turning in his seat to face Jim. ‘They may not have anything to report and have thus forgotten.’
This is a weak explanation and Spock knows it.
Jim shakes his head, pushing out of his seat and stepping over to check Spock’s screen. ‘They’re not that stupid,’ he says. ‘They know the penalty for missing a checkpoint without good reason. Bones is very eager to give his presentation on the many injuries you can acquire on-planet again. He’s added new slides.’
Spock’s right though. There’s no sign of life other than the three they know of, so they can’t’ve been attacked or taken prisoner, right? The only explanation he can think of is malfunctioning coms.
Jim pushes up off Spock’s chair. ‘Uhura, is…’
He’s interrupted by her holding up a hand, eyes lighting up. ‘Contact established, Captain!’ she says, already opening the channel.
‘Jackson to Enterprise.’
Jim is already at Uhura’s side, leaning over to speak, ‘Jackson? Kirk here. Is everything alright down there?’
Jackson continues to talk, as if he didn’t hear anything. ‘One to beam up, Enterprise.’
One?
Jim and Uhura exchange worried glances. ‘Jackson,’ Jim says, leaning forward again. ‘Where are Mr. Sulu and Mr. Scott? Status report, now.’
Jackson ignores him. ‘One to beam up, Enterprise,’ he repeats.
‘Jackson!’ Jim raises his voice. ‘Where are Sulu and Scotty?’
‘I’m ready to beam up, sir.’
Well, at least Jackson seems aware of who he’s talking to if not anything else. Jim glances at Uhura who looks as mystified as he feels. ‘The connection isn’t strong, but he should be able to hear us,’ she says, frowning.
Jim nods, shoving off her seat. ‘Tell Keenser to beam him up. And tell Bones to meet me in the transporter room, pronto!’
‘On it, sir.’ Uhura’s already in the process of obeying as he finishes his orders and heads for the second turbolift.
It doesn’t take long for him to make it to the transporter room, and he hurries up to the door in time to be met by Bones coming from the opposite direction. ‘Jim? What’s…’
Jim cuts him off. ‘In here, come on.’
They both head inside, as Keenser busily operates the transporter without giving them so much as a glance. Jim avoids looking at him—ideal scenario, he won’t have to tell Keenser his best friend’s not coming back but the thought of it alone is unpleasant enough—instead focusing on the platform as whirling light surrounds one of the pads and Jackson materialises.
‘Jackson!’ Jim starts. ‘Where are…’
He’s cut off as the young man collapses off the platform. Bones sweeps forward, catching Jackson in his arms as he snaps a hurried instruction at Keenser to call Sickbay and get him a team here. After feeling for a pulse, Bones curses and sets to work, loading his hypospray and stabbing Jackson with it. With a barked order to Keenser to ‘Tell ‘em to hurry up!', Bones begins resuscitation.
Jim backs out of the way of the door, eyes fixed on Jackson.
‘Captain Kirk!’
The voice makes him jump and he’s not the only one. Even Bones freezes, staring at the young man lying in his arms. ‘Jim, did he…’
‘Captain Kirk, can you hear me?’ The strange voice is deep, certainly not Jackson’s, though—as Jim realises—that’s who it’s coming from. ‘There is a curse on your ship. Leave this place or you will all die!’
‘Who the hell are you?’ Jim snarls.
He doesn’t receive an answer, as the summoned medical team races inside and Bones re-instigates resuscitation efforts. Jim gets out of their way, mouth dry as he does so. He sends a look at Keenser, who inspects him with his little eyestalks then returns to ignoring him.
‘Bridge to Captain Kirk,’ Uhura’s voice comes through his communicator. ‘Captain, has Ensign Jackson safely beamed up?’
Jim grimaces, rubbing a hand over his face before responding. ‘The beam up itself went fine but…I’ll get back to you on his health status once Doctor McCoy updates me. There is, however…’ Jim stops himself; he’d rather explain this—whatever the hell it is—in person. ‘There’s something I’ll need to discuss with you all, but I need to wait for McCoy first. I’ll keep you updated, in the meantime I want you to keep trying to reach Mr. Sulu and Mr. Scott. Kirk out.’
By the time a downcast Bones exits the Sickbay, Jim’s been waiting for about fifteen minutes.
‘He’s dead,’ Jim says. It isn’t a question. His best friend’s expression tells him all he needs to know about Jackson’s fate.
‘Honestly, I think we were fighting a battle that was already lost,’ Bones says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. ‘He was already in full cardiac arrest when I caught him, but with me getting to him so fast, I hoped…’ he trails off, shaking his head. ‘Nothing we did had any effect. He didn’t respond to anything we tried.’ It’s clear the failure is bothering Bones more than he would like to admit; he keeps sending glances back at the Sickbay, as if hoping Jackson’ll miraculously wake up while he’s gone.
‘You did your best, Bones, that’s all you can do,’ Jim says, giving Bones’ shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘D’you know what killed him?’
‘Not a clue,’ Bones says, frustration evident. ‘Scans are all clear. There’s nothing medically wrong with him, except for, y’know, the fact that he’s dead. It’s like…I don’t know.’ He grimaces, rubbing his face. ‘It’s like his body just decided to stop working.’
‘Could it be a toxin?’
‘Not unless we’ve discovered some new-fangled toxin that kills without doing the slightest bit of damage to the body itself and without registering at all on the scans.’ Bones shakes his head. ‘It’s a mystery, Jim. And speaking of mysteries…’
‘Yeah. I heard it too.’
‘Well, I’m glad of that, anyway,’ Bones says. ‘I don’t have to check myself in somewhere cause I’m hearing voices from a dead guy.’
‘No, we’ll at least be together in the psychiatric ward,’ Jim says.
‘Oh, deep joy.’
Jim nudges him. ‘Come on, bridge.’
‘Do I have to?’ Bones makes a face but he falls into step next to Jim anyway. ‘Where’re Sulu and Scotty anyway? Didn’t they go down with Jackson?’
‘Yes. Yes, they did. That’s what we’re going to find out.’
Jackson’s death certainly doesn’t do anything to raise the mood on the bridge. Chekov sinks lower in his seat, as Uhura closes her eyes.
Spock pauses for a moment to allow the others to take it in before he asks about the cause of death. The response makes his eyebrows raise in that way of his that says he’s fascinated, despite the situation.
‘There was no damage whatsoever?’ he prods, eyes focused on Bones.
‘Not a bit,’ Bones says. ‘He just dropped dead.’
‘That’s not even the weirdest thing,’ Jim says, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. He repeats what the mysterious voice said, word for word.
‘A curse upon the ship?’ Spock raises an eyebrow. ‘Intriguing.’
‘You could say that,’ Jim says. ‘Something bad’s going on down there. Sulu and Scotty are still out of contact, and with Jackson dead we can’t afford to wait any longer. Spock, Bones, you two are coming with me. We’re beaming down.’
Bones sighs without protesting, while Spock almost looks excited. In a very Vulcan way, of course.
‘Lieutenant Uhura, continue trying to hail Sulu and Scotty intermittently,’ Jim goes on. ‘Lieutenant 0718, you have the conn.’
The swirling lights of the transporter beam clear to reveal, well, not much. What little the single moon above does to light up their craggy surroundings is choked by thick motionless fog. The great rocks reach up for the starless sky all around, creating a claustrophobic maze that spiderwebs out from their position atop one big rock.
‘Well, we found Dracula’s space lair,’ Jim says.
Bones eyes their surroundings with deep suspicion. ‘If my blood gets sucked, I’m blaming you, Jim.’
‘Oh, come on, Bones. Let’s see that sense of adventure,’ Jim says with a bright smile he doesn’t entirely feel.
‘Sorry, I left it on the last nightmare planet you made me beam down to.’
Jim laughs, before turning to Spock who—as is his wont—has been ignoring them, instead focusing on his tricorder. ‘Spock? Your scans?’
Spock doesn’t look up. ‘It is quite peculiar,’ he says. ‘Neither my scans nor the probe data from earlier indicate conditions that would make it possible for fog to form. There are no clouds, no bodies of water. The temperature is stable, if low. Very peculiar.’ Spock still sounds about as excited as a Vulcan can get.
‘Great,’ says Bones. ‘Now we got ghost fog. This day’s getting better and better.’
‘Technically, it’s night.’
‘I will hypo you, James Kirk.’
Jim grins at him, nudging Bones’ shoulder with his own and garnering a weak smile from his friend. ‘So,’ he says. ‘Ghost fog. My Dracula theory’s gaining credence.’
‘I think it best you not submit this hypothesis of yours to the scientific journals just yet, Captain,’ Spock says, voice utterly dry.
‘Hmm. You could be right. We need more evidence.’ Jim straightens, turning to look around. ‘This is where Jackson beamed up from, right?’
‘It is,’ Spock confirms.
‘Then all we gotta do is find where he came from.’ Jim glances down from their own little rocky island. The ground is hidden under the endless sea of fog that surrounds them, making it impossible to tell how high up they are.
It can’t be too high. Jackson made it up here with…whatever was wrong with him. Besides, Scotty and Sulu are out there somewhere.
Jim tentatively stretches out a leg, hoping the ground isn’t too far.
‘Careful, Jim,’ Bones hisses, catching hold of his shoulder.
Jim waves away his concern, lowering his foot until it touches rock, thankfully not too deep inside the fog. He smiles, hopping onto the secured foot and settling the other next to it, turning to face his friends. ‘See! It’s fine, you worry too much, Bones.’
Ignoring Bones’ muttered grumbling as both he and Spock climb down from the rock, Jim turns and takes a few steps to the left, searching for any sign of his missing crewmembers. Not a thing. In one sense, it’s good. He doesn’t want to see any blood or signs of a struggle. At least while there’s none of that, his friends might be unharmed, but it also means they have no idea where to go to find them.
‘Can you find any sign of ‘em on the scans, Spock?’ he asks.
‘Not yet, sir,’ Spock says, before pausing. ‘Wait. I’m picking up life form readings. Twenty-four degrees mark seven. Range one thirty-seven point one six metres.’
‘Scotty and Sulu?’ Bones asks.
‘Perhaps,’ Spock says. ‘I cannot be sure.’
Jim hums, pulling out his communicator and flicking it open. ‘Kirk to Enterprise.’
‘Enterprise, Uhura speaking,’ comes the response. ‘Is everything okay down there, Captain?’
‘We’re all fine,’ Jim assures her. ‘How are the sensor readings looking?’
This time, it’s Chekov who speaks. 0718 must’ve switched Jim’s call to the central speaker. ‘Captain, I am only picking up on the three of you. There are no other life signs.’
Jim picks up on the slight tremble to Chekov’s voice with a wince. ‘Strange. We’re…’ He’s cut off by a burst of static on the line. He exchanges alarmed looks with Bones. ‘Chekov? Uhura? 0718? Are you there?’
Nothing but static responds.
‘Fog’s getting thicker, Jim,’ Bones says, eyeing the rising miasma. ‘That could be what’s interfering with the coms?’
Jim flicks his communicator shut, frowning. ‘Maybe. There’s gotta be a reason why the ship’s readings are different to ours, and for the communication breakdown.’
‘Perhaps this is what occurred to cut the landing party off from the Enterprise,’ Spock says. ‘It would explain their lack of response to our hails.’
‘But not Jackson’s death,’ Bones says.
Spock tilts his head in agreement.
‘Are you still picking up life-signs, Spock?’ Jim asks, eyeing their surroundings as he speaks.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I guess we don’t have much choice,’ Jim says with a shrug, as he slides his phaser out of its holster. ‘Lead the way, Spock, slowly. Both of you, keep your phasers ready.’
Spock obeys, leading the way through a series of sharp bends, the endless rocks making it hard to navigate directly. As they come out into a somewhat clearer section, a faint sound sweeps towards them.
Jim stiffens. ‘Wait,’ he says.
When the others stop, he steps to the front, hand gripping his phaser as the noise comes again. A howl, floating on the wind—except there is no wind. ‘D’you hear that?’
‘Sends shivers up my spine,’ Bones says.
‘It’s a voice.’ Jim’s gaze traces the mist around them. ‘I’m…’
Something comes flying out of the fog, cutting him off, grotesque faces poking out and laughing as they float above them. Jim checks to make sure his friends are safely behind him, as the faces—like witches from old Earth folklore—cackle and circle them.
‘Captain Kirk!’ they each shriek and Jim shivers.
‘How do they know my…’ he begins.
‘Go back! Go back!’ the witches continue to howl. ‘Remember the curse!’
Jim scowls, aiming his phaser and sending off a shot—not aimed at them, more as a warning. They continue to flutter, unconcerned. ‘Where are my men?’ he demands. ‘Are you the ones who took ‘em? Where are they? Hey!’ He fires off another shot, this time aiming at one of the faces. The phaser shot sails through it. The witch in question is unperturbed.
‘Wind shall rise!’ one cries.
‘And fog descend!’ says another.
‘Leave here, all, or meet your end!’ The last one howls, before all three sweep away, vanishing into the darkness.
Jim, Spock, and Bones are left, stood there, staring.
‘What,’ says Bones, ‘the hell was that?’
‘Terrible poetry,’ says Spock solemnly.
‘Spock, I wasn’t asking for your damn literary analysis,’ Bones says, glaring at him.
‘I take it back,’ Jim says, interrupting their spat before it could get started. ‘This isn’t Dracula. It’s Macbeth. What the hell?’
‘They were some kind of illusion,’ Spock says, eyebrows microscopically drawn together—his version of a frown. ‘Though how they were cast, I do not know. Perhaps there is a form of advanced technology here that we do not have the capacity to pick up on our scans.’
‘The life-signs are still there?’ Jim asks.
‘Yes, Captain. They appear inconsistent but are nonetheless present.’
Jim nods, straightening his back. ‘Lead on, Spock. The sooner we find Scotty and Sulu, the sooner we can go home and never talk about that ever again.’
‘Amen,’ says Bones.
Spock is leading them towards another thick outcropping of rocks, when the empty air picks up speed, a gust of powerful wind slamming into them and sending them flying backwards. Jim tries his best to keep his feet, as somewhere behind him, Bones cries out in pain.
‘Bones?’ he calls, as the wind drops as suddenly as it came.
‘Here!’ Bones’ voice comes from somewhere Jim can’t place. ‘Further down, Jim.’
Jim looks, frowning, as an opening in the rocks around them becomes visible. He hurries over, squeezing through to find Bones already on the other side. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah, just got knocked through there by the wind,’ Bones says with a wave of his hand. ‘That’s not important right now. Look, Jim, there!’
As Spock comes through the opening behind them, Jim obeys.
And stops short. ‘Is that…is that a castle?’
‘Looks a hell of a lot like one, doesn’t it?’ Bones says. ‘Even got those funny up-and-down edges along the walls.’
‘Crenelations,’ Jim says without looking away from the hulking structure. ‘They’re called crenelations.’
‘Course you know that.’
‘Jim,’ Spock says, before Jim can think of a response.
Jim turns to him, frowning at the faint note of urgency in Spock’s voice. ‘Yeah?’
‘This building appears to be the source of the life-signs my scanners picked up.’
‘I thought they were thataway,’ Bones says, pointing off to the left.
‘They were,’ Spock says. ‘Yet now they are here.’
‘Is it the castle itself throwing off your scanners?’ Jim asks, glancing at the giant building. ‘Maybe that’s what cut the landing party off from us.’
‘Perhaps so,’ says Spock. ‘Yet I remain unsure. There is nothing about this building that should suggest such capabilities.’
‘Same’s true of the planet,’ says Jim wryly. ‘Yet here we are.’
‘Funny-looking building to end up on an alien planet,’ Bones says. ‘It’s an Earth design, right? But Earth’s never made it out here before. Besides, who built it if there’s no life-signs other than our own people? D’you reckon they just built it and left?’
‘Or died,’ says Spock.
‘Real optimistic, Spock,’ says Bones.
‘It is neither optimism nor pessimism, merely logic. Though, I know you cannot understand such things, Doctor.’
‘Why you green-blo…’
‘Regardless,’ Jim says, interrupting Bones. ‘Something or someone here is screwing with us. And whoever or whatever it is has got Scotty and Sulu.’ He gives a sharp grin. ‘I don’t take well to that at all. Let’s go get ‘em back.’
Spock and Bones both acquiesce and, together, the three make their way towards the stronghold. They reach the door and Jim heads in first, heaving the solid wooden door open with a grunt. ‘Man, this place, at least, has gotta be real,’ he says, groaning. ‘That thing’s way too heavy to be fake!’
He creeps further inside, hand on his phaser.
A hissing screech comes from nowhere and Jim almost falls over—and, embarrassingly, also drops his phaser—catching himself on the wall. ‘What the…’ he trails off as he catches sight of a black cat, with an emerald-embedded black collar around its neck.
Bones pokes his head through the door. ‘Congratulations, Jim. You got beaten by a kitty.’
‘Shut up, Bones,’ Jim says, snatching up his phaser. ‘Come on in, guys, unless you’re too scared of Muffins here.’
‘Did you…name the cat Muffins?’ Spock asks, as he follows Bones inside. ‘That seems illogical.’
Jim shrugs. ‘Seems like a classic cat name to me. Don’t you think so, Muffins?’ He hunkers down to scratch it behind its ears. It’s not happy about it, hissing and swiping at him with its claw.
‘That is not the point,’ Spock says with a tone of deep Vulcan weariness. ‘Why, precisely, are you naming a cat you discovered in dangerous territory?’
‘Also,’ Bones says. ‘Pretty sure Muffins hates your guts, kid.’
‘Oh, she’s just prickly.’ Jim raises his eyebrows at Bones. ‘Kinda like someone else I know.’
Bones rolls his eyes. ‘Oh, ha ha, Jim. She’s a girl now?’
Jim shrugs. ‘Felt right.’ He stands up, running a hand through his hair. ‘This place gets weirder and weirder. First witches, now a black cat. Seems like someone’s doing their best to make a Halloween planet all for themselves.’
‘Halloween being the holiday celebrated on Earth based around supernatural forces, yes?’ Spock says, falling into step with him as Jim heads into the castle.
‘Yeah, that’s the one,’ Jim says.
‘This place is just a haunted house from back home, except there’s fewer teenagers in monster masks,’ Bones says, following behind.
Spock inclines an eyebrow. ‘Fascinating. Why are these teenagers wearing masks in such an allegedly dangerous area?’
‘Not those kinda haunted houses, Spock,’ Bones says with a laugh. ‘These ones are set up to scare people, lots of masks and fake blood and whatever. People pay to go in ‘em.’
‘…Why?’
‘To be scared,’ Jim says. ‘It’s fun.’
‘Humans are…most peculiar,’ Spock says. ‘I must ask Nyota about this later.’
‘What, d’you think we’re screwing with you?’ Jim asks.
‘That is always a logical conclusion to consider when it involves you, James Kirk.’
At that, Jim laughs. ‘Yeah, you know me well.’ He adjusts his grip on his phaser. ‘Alright, impromptu Earth cultural lesson over. Let’s spread out, see if we can find either Scotty or Sulu, we’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes. Do not go too far and if you get in trouble, just yell real loud.’
‘Believe me,’ says Bones. ‘That happens, I’ll be yelling alright.’
The corridors within the castle are long and eerily empty, thick with cobwebs and musty air. Jim shivers against his will. It’s odd, he’s been in far more terrifying situations—Uncle Frank, the Narada, the warp-core, hell Tarsus, and the list could go on—yet something about the total silence of this place makes his skin crawl. He’s never been a fan of silence, too much room for him to think about things he tries not to think about, but this. This is something else. There’s no sign of life, no animals, not so much as a draft. If it weren’t for the slight noise Jim himself is making, he might believe he’s gone deaf.
Haunted houses back on Earth are missing a trick. Total eerie silence is the way to go.
He keeps a close eye on the time and is happy to make his way back to the meeting spot when it’s time. Thankfully, both Spock and Bones are there and fine—without anything to report.
This time when they set off, they do it together, Jim taking the lead as they head further into the castle.
‘More cobwebs,’ Bones mutters, waving in front of his face to try and clear them away from his path. ‘Does it seem odd to anyone else that there’s a million spiderwebs but not a spider in sight?’
He makes an excellent point. Jim frowns, gaze darting around.
‘Maybe…’ He’s cut off by the sharp yowl of a cat. ‘Muffins?’ he says, squinting into the darkness. ‘That you?’
A hiss is Muffins’ informative response.
‘Jim, you’re not adopting the cat,’ Bones says.
‘It was once tradition for a ship to have a ship’s cat,’ Jim points out, snickering at Bones’ annoyed expression.
‘To hunt rats, Jim, there are no rats on the Enterprise!’
‘That we know of.’
‘Any form of Earth vermin,’ Spock says. ‘Would be highly unlikely on a starship, Captain. Besides which, one could assume this cat already has an owner.’
Given the big old emerald on her collar, this is true. Jim doesn’t give in so easily. ‘We could find alien rodents somewhere along the way. You can’t say for sure.’ He catches sight of Muffins’ tail flicking around a corner. ‘Ah, there she is.’ With that, he hurries after her.
‘Jim, why are we chasing a cat?’ Bones calls after him—though both he and Spock are following.
‘She is the only sign of life we’ve seen in this whole place,’ Jim answers, slowing to let them catch up. ‘Maybe she’ll lead us to her owner.’
Which will, hopefully, lead them to Scotty and Sulu.
Muffins darts around another corner and Jim goes after her, this time with Bones and Spock close behind. They come out in a wider corridor at the end of which stands Muffins with her tail flicking to and fro.
Jim beams. ‘See. She likes me!’ he says, continuing forward.
Spock stiffens. ‘Jim!’ he starts, but he’s too late.
The floor crumbles, collapsing under their combined weight. The sickening jolt of falling is met with a sharp pain in the back of Jim’s head and everything goes black.