Chapter Text
Acting Captains log, Stardate 2267.34, Lt. Cmdr. Hikaru Sulu in command. Six weeks ago I beamed the senior commanders of the Enterprise down to the Guardian planet. And fifteen minutes later, I got back five officers who were highly traumatized and hadn’t served aboard a Starship in over a decade. When Starfleet got word, they immediately relieved every one of them until they could pass competency and psychological exams. Four of the five are returning to duty today, although the Captain by the skin of his teeth. His grief for the life and love that he lost is intense. I wouldn’t call him well, but perhaps the command chair will give him the purpose he needs. I’ll be glad to give it back to him. We may never get our Chief Engineer back, however; regulations are firm on questions of self-harm, even if it happened in another timeline. There is an old Earth saying, however, about idle hands and the devil’s playground that keeps popping ominously into my mind.
Nyota turned on the shower for a few minutes at the end of a long day, a quick and indulgent burst of heat and steam, before switching over to the sonics. Returning to duty, at last, had been a relief. Starfleet had been over-cautious and maddeningly slow.
She dried off and thought with longing about her deep tub in their New York apartment. When she and Spock had gone shopping for homes, that tub had been the biggest draw, as far as she had been concerned, and Spock had indulged her. No such luxury on a Starship. That she had a water shower at all was only because Spock had one, and early on in the mission Scotty had knocked a door between her quarters and Spock’s. Their combined quarters aboard ship was just about the same size as the tiny apartment they’d all shared for those first months in the twentieth century.
Kirk’s decision that they would not correct the timeline—that they couldn’t murder Edith, even to save the universe—had meant that they had had to embrace the twentieth century. Scotty and Spock had faked everyone a solid set of credentials and hacked the meager information technology of the day to seed life histories for them solid enough that they’d gone unquestioned. Jim had been the first to move out of the apartment, and within days they’d all gone their ways. They hadn’t exactly scattered to the wind, but that era had ended.
Returning to the tight quarters of the Enterprise, to artificial lights, to two minute showers, to living with 500 people in 800 meters and nowhere to go had proved surprisingly difficult. More heartbreaking, though, had been combing old historical records, hoping for a glimpse of the kids she’d been mentoring in both the States and Kenya. With wars and plagues and centuries between then and now, however, there had been little sign of them. Her searches had led to a wonderful picture of Edith and Jim, however. The Captain had taken it wordlessly and carefully positioned it on his desk.
Nyota wrapped herself in a robe. “Tea?” she called to Spock, who was working in their small office.
“Please,” he said. She was settling in on the couch with her own tea and a padd for an evening of reports when the door chime rang.
“Come,” she called, and Scotty walked through the door with a look that lurched her straight back to New York. He didn’t look like a Starfleet officer, dressed in a black undershirt and with a non-regulation beard on his face. He looked like a physics professor, and had a familiar ache in his eyes. He’d so seldom been well during those years on Earth, and she had watched in grief as his innate good cheer had faded into silence and pain, and finally despair that she had refused to see.
She was not pleased at all that Starfleet was refusing to clear him for duty, and the look on his face just confirmed her worries … and also suggested that perhaps Starfleet was right.
“I’ve done a thing,” Scott said, his fist clenched around something. “And I need yeh tae forgive me.”
And god, he’d put that in a letter, once.
“Scotty,” Nyota said urgently, on her feet, and her heart rate skyrocketed when she saw that he had a vial of something blood red in his hand. But she quickly saw it was one of his cunning and delicate designs, a glass vial around a magnetic bottle. Which wasn't good, particularly, but he probably wasn’t in immediate danger.
Spock had come out of the office, and Scott wordlessly handed him the vial. “Red matter,” Spock breathed, and looked down at the substance that had destroyed his planet.
“Aye,” Scott said reluctantly.
“You were years from this, you said. A decade …” Spock trailed off.
Scott shrugged. “A wee bit less. You didnae think I spent all those years on Earth just teachin’ basic physics, did you? I worked on this.” He sat restlessly, vibrating with a bizarre mix of pride and dread. “I didnae really think I’d solve it, but one day the answer just came. It’s all the same thing. Warp. Transwarp. Time travel. Black holes. Gravity. That thing in the ghost planet. The Guardian. Just folds in the multiverse, which is actually just one thing. This stuff takes a handful of multispacetime and,” he mimed a closing fist. “Crushes it. I wasnae going tae try tae synthesize it but … I’ve had some time on my hands.”
“Is it stable?” Spock asked urgently. “Is it safe?”
“It is the most dangerous thing in the universe, of course it isnae safe!” Scott cried, standing to pace in agitation. “But it’s contained. It willnae hurt us, bottled up. The vial has the equations and instructions for synthesis, on a chip in the base coded tae your passcode. It’s the only place in the universe they exist, outside my mind.”
“What am I to do with this, Mr. Scott?” Spock asked quietly.
“I dinnae ken, Mr. Spock,” Scott shrugged helplessly. He scrubbed his hands down his face and looked over at Nyota, then back at Spock. “The final pieces came tae me on Earth when I was nearly at the end of my endurance. When I solved it, I knew I couldnae let the answer exist in that reality, even in my mind. I burned every note I had and was relieved tae let it die with me. I wasnae going tae leave it for the Empire or the Federation tae find. And then the universe, bitch that she is, brought me back. I willnae put it in Starfleet’s hands, so I’ll put it in yours. God forgive me, Mr. Spock. I have the terrible feeling I’ve just closed a destiny loop and destroyed your people.”
Spock folded his hands around the vial. “There is no reason to think that your work here has anything to do with the creation of this substance in Ambassador Spock’s universe. The burden of Vulcan is not yours.”
“Oh, Mr. Spock,” he said in despair. “You dinnae ken what this shite really is.”
Spock carefully tucked the vial into the box that Ambassador Spock had left him. “I will use this, one day, to save billions of lives on Romulus, with the hope that it will bring peace across our universe. You have my word, Mr. Scott.”
The engineer nodded and stood reluctantly, headed back to stare at the claustrophobic walls of his quarters where it seemed he was going to be spending the rest of the mission. Nyota grabbed his hand before he could go, and he closed his eyes.
“Hey,” she said, a hand on either side of his face, and chastely kissed his lips to get his attention. “Stay.”
He sighed, like it was the one thing he wanted and the one thing he couldn’t have. “People will talk,” he said softly.
“I don’t care. Spock doesn’t care.”
“You are always welcome in our home, Mr. Scott, wherever that is,” Spock said. “That has not changed. It is logical for you to stay, if it will bring you comfort and allow you to rest.”
“Maybe just for tonight,” he said softly, and Nyota wrapped her arms around him, relishing the beat of his heart against hers, then took Spock’s hand and headed for the bedroom. “Maybe just one more time,” Scotty said, and followed them.
Captain’s log, Stardate 2267.41. I am grateful to be Captain of the Enterprise again. If I can’t be the husband of Edith Kirk, I’ll take that. I dreamed about her last night. About taking her to the observation deck, and showing her the stars. About locking the door, and making love to her with the universe around us. About finding a planet with a beach to walk on. And then I woke up. No beach to walk on.
The outpost was full of dead people. Dead Klingons, more precisely, which was concerning for a number of reasons, the first of which was that the Federation had been unaware that the Klingons even had an outpost this far from the Empire. The other concerning fact was the dead Klingons part, although live ones would have been problematic too. They appeared to have died in three ways — at each other’s hands, outside in the poisonous atmosphere without suits, or apparently from just sitting down and dying. And none of those were characteristic ways for Klingons to die.
A Klingon outpost was, of course, a goldmine of intelligence. Here in uncharted space salvage was not an act of war, and so they stripped it bare of any useful part and every bit of information, which would be scanned, encoded, and sent back to Starfleet for analysis.
“What do we do with the bodies, Ms. Uhura?” Kirk asked.
“Best we’ve ever been able to determine, there is a ritual. Open their eyes and bellow at the sky. Then the body can just be discarded as a worthless empty shell,” she answered.
“Bellow at the sky?” Kirk asked, looking at the row of bodies. “Fine.” The eyes were opened and then Kirk cleared his throat.
“Nice big bellow,” Uhura encouraged, and Kirk managed something that he hoped wasn’t completely insulting to the dead.
They beamed home, and burned the outpost and bodies to the ground with one photon torpedo. Kirk wiped his palms on his trousers, surprised at how much he was sweating, but then, the entire incident had been unsettling. He suddenly felt tears prick behind his eyes, as the thought of Edith passed through his mind. He hadn’t even been able to bury her. Someday, he would go home and find her grave, even if he was, apparently, also somehow already buried beside her.
He pulled himself together. “Ms. Uhura, please encode a subspace message, priority one about our findings here. When that is sent, Mr. Sulu set a course for that neutron star Mr. Spock wanted to look at. Mr. Spock, you have the conn,” the Captain said, and then, to everyone’s surprise, left the bridge.
He didn’t return, even when they dropped into a careful, distant orbit around the neutron star. It was the corpse of what had once been a much larger star, likely around twenty times as massive as Sol; the collapsed core remnant of a supernova not quite large enough to become a black hole. It was tiny now, with a radius of only ten kilometers and incredibly hot, magnetic, and dense. The Enterprise would need to keep a very careful distance from this deadly stellar object.
Spock frowned at the sensor readings. “Unusual,” he announced to the bridge at large. “I’m reading a warp signature only a few days old. Someone else has been here.
Normally the Captain would have interjected something to that observation, but the junior officers had to scramble to fill the silence.
“Must be another explorer out here,” Chekov said, a bit lamely.
“So it seems …” Spock trailed off. “They were much closer to the star than my comfort level would permit. Mr. Chekov, Mr. Sulu, please remain alert and carefully monitor our orbit, and impress that need on your relief in an hour.”
The shift ended without incident and the Alpha crew stood and stretched. Spock reached for Nyota as they rode the lift down to the level of officer’s quarters, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.
“What was that for?” she asked him, a little bemused.
“I was simply considering that you are beautiful and extraordinary,” he said.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Spock,” she teased him. “Dinner?”
“I will join you shortly. I wish to check on the Captain. It was unusual for him to leave the bridge and not return.”
“I think the dead Klingon outpost got to him a little,” she admitted. “He honestly seemed shaken. I’m hungry, do you mind if I start without you?”
“Not at all,” Spock said, and leaned in to kiss her neck.
“Spock!” she said, pleased and a little scandalized. He usually kept his displays of affection firmly in their quarters. The lift opened, and she headed for the mess hall. She paused outside Scotty’s quarters and considered digging him out. She hadn’t seen the man in days, sidelined by Starfleet’s frustrating orders relieving him on psychological grounds, and without regular duty shifts he’d gone a bit reclusive. But his sleep schedule was largely the same, and she knew he tended to sleep through early Beta shift. She left him alone for now, with the promise to herself that she would roust him tomorrow if she didn’t see him today.
She collected her dinner—a really excellent veggie curry that Scott had recently programmed in his abundant spare time—and sat down to chat with Christine Chapel. And in retrospect, what happened next wasn’t the first sign that there was something wrong, but it was the first she’d noticed.
“Get off my back!” Pavel Chekov screamed at an utterly bemused Sulu, shoving him backward.
“I just asked if I could get you a drink from the synthesizer …” Sulu said.
“I am not a child, and I am not your child,” Chekov yelled, becoming more agitated, and took a wild swing at Sulu that didn’t connect with anything. Nyota was about to stand up when a couple of burley engineers did instead. “Cool down, Pavel!” they said, grabbing him. “What the hell, mate?”
Chekov threw off their hands and stalked out of the room.
“What was that about?” asked a shaken Sulu.
Ten minutes later, three security officers started screaming at each other, and went down in a biting, punching pile. And then the engineers who’d stooped Chekov. And then two of her communications officers started sobbing, and Christine Chapel sat on the floor and refused to move.
Nyota stood, intending to go find Spock, because there was definitely a serious problem, but Spock stepped into the room and headed straight for her.
“Spock,” she started. “There is something seriously wrong …”
“There is,” he said mournfully. “How can I live when I know that someday, you’ll be gone? Human life, so brief. All of you, gone, and I’ll be alone!”
Nyota looked at him in shock, and then marched him to their quarters just before he burst into tears. “Stay here,” she ordered him. “I’ll be right back.”
She ran for the medbay. The halls were full of crewmen, some fighting each other, some weeping, some laughing maniacally and running, some sitting despondently in the hall.
“I’ll protect you fair maiden!” shouted a shirtless Sulu, waving a practice sword from the gym and grabbing her around the waist.
“Neither, Sulu,” she said, shoving him off.
The Captain walked by, utterly heedless of the chaos. “No beach to walk on,” he told her sadly. “No beach.”
“Yeah,” McCoy said when she arrived, breathless from pushing through the madness. “We have a big problem.”
“The Klingon outpost,” she said in horror. “They were all dead. Some of them killed each other. Some of them stripped naked and went outside. Some of them just sat down and died. But they all died, Leonard, and we’ve got it too.”
“And whatever this is, it’s spreading very fast. Too fast to be by contact; it’s got to be airborne. How are you feeling?” McCoy asked her.
“Bewildered and concerned but fine,” she said.
“Have you still been taking your antidepressant every day?” McCoy asked her.
“I … yes?” she said, confused.
“Me too. And I also feel fine. And Peters over there, who just brought in two engineers, is fine. He takes anti-anxiety medications. Johnson came in with some science officers. Attention deficit stabilizers. Everyone who is okay is on brain-stabilizing medications of some kind. I’m developing a theory.”
The ship lurched. “We’re in orbit around a neutron star!” Uhura gasped, and headed for the bridge. “Work fast!”
The bridge was in the same condition, although it appeared that the fighters and the runners had already cleared out, leaving only the criers. She hauled the sobbing duty officer out of the central chair and was headed for helm control when the ship suddenly went silent, other than the cries and shouts of the crew, and it took Uhura a moment to place what was wrong. The warp core! The reactor was off.
She hit the comm. “Engineering! Report! Get that core back online, or we won’t be able to maintain orbit! Engineering!”
There was no response.
To her eternal relief, Scotty came charging onto the bridge a moment later, boggling open-mouthed at the chaos around him. Two gamma shift bridge officers were with him, their eyes clear, if wide with fear, and they headed for the helm and science stations.
“What the hell…?” Scott snapped.
“You haven’t heard the screaming, but could hear the core shut down?” Uhura rolled her eyes at him. “Typical. We’ve got some sort of pathogen affecting emotions. Manifesting either as rage, grief, or mania.”
“Helm is not responding,” said one of the officers. “No power at all.”
The other looked up from the science station. “The neutron star has got us,” she said in dread.
“A bloody neutron…?” Scott started. “Where are the Captain and Mr. Spock?” he asked.
“Weeping somewhere, last I knew. And Sulu was chasing people through the hall with a sword. You’re in command, Mr. Scott,” Uhura said.
“No, I’m not,” he said sharply. “I’ve been relieved; I cannae take command of the ship.”
“This is not the time to parce that! We’re in orbit around a neutron star and the core just went down. The crew will follow you, what’s left of them.”
“Aye, and that’s a mutinous coup. No, Lieutenant Commander. You are in command, ma’am, Scott said, and gestured firmly toward the chair.
She stared at him in aggravation. “Fine,” she snapped. “In that case Mr. Scott, could you head down to engineering and perhaps make some suggestions before the star tears us apart?!”
“That I can do, lass,” he said, and headed for the lift at a run. Engineering wasn’t empty, but most of the people who should have been there weren’t, and everyone left was lying on the floor staring vaguely into the middle distance.
The Captain was sitting despondently at the reactor controls, tapping a phaser on the console. Scott edged up to him.
“Hello, Captain,” Scott said gently. “What are yeh doin’, sir?”
“Oh, hi Scotty,” the Captain said absently. “The warp core was really loud, so I turned it off.”
“Really loud …” Scott gave a half laugh. “It can be a wee bit. But sir, we need it tae power the ship.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Kirk said. “Sorry about that.” He didn’t move, however, and continued to tap the phaser, then pointed it vaguely at Scott, who grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. It was set to kill.
“Sir, the phaser.”
“Oh, right,” Kirk said, and turned it around to point at himself, staring curiously down the barrel. Scott took an aborted step forward; that wasn’t actually any better.
“Sir, can yeh just hand that tae me, please?” he said tightly.
“Between the two of us, we’ve been dead three times,” Kirk mused. “Isn’t that something? I remember being afraid last time. But I’m not afraid now. Were you afraid, Scotty? Or just relieved to be free of the pain? Because it fucking hurts Scotty.”
“Sir, you’re very ill. Your mind is telling yeh lies.”
Kirk looked up, a flash of anger in his eyes. “You’re not really the one to be lecturing me about that, Scotty,” he snapped.
“Oh, Jim, I’m exactly the right person tae give yeh that warning; I fought for my life for more than four decades,” Scott said apologetically, reaching out placatingly. “In the end I just couldnae do it anymore. And I didnae believe there was anything next, but on the chance I was wrong, I hoped it would be better. And what was next was the Enterprise,” he said, and tilted his head to look up at the ship. “She was here waitin’ for me the entire time. She never let me go, and we’ll never let her go, right Jim?”
“The Enterprise,” Kirk said weakly, and the word seemed to break through his fog.
“Aye, sir. And she’s in trouble. Let me help our girl?”
Kirk looked up fiercely, the dull look lifting out of his eyes. “Scotty, we’re in orbit around a neutron star, and the core is off,” he said urgently.
“Aye, sir, you’re grasping the problem.”
“Never let you go,” Kirk said fiercely to the ship, and stumbled aside to let Scott by. He was still holding the phaser, but it wasn’t the priority.
The engineer looked at the board, and his heart dropped. “Bridge, Engineering,” he said, hitting the comm. “Commander Uhura, the core is in cold shutdown.”
“You’re talking like that’s bad. Explain, swiftly,” Uhura said.
He looked across at the Captain, who was looking back at him in panic. “Aye, ma’am. You cannae mix matter and antimatter cold; yeh have tae bring them up to temperature. I’ve got tae have 30 minutes.”
“Mr. Scott, ” Uhura said tightly. “We’re falling to the neutron star. In less than five minutes.”
“I understand the issue!” Scott cried. “At 500,000 kilometers the bloody thing will atomize us! But I cannae change the laws of physics. A reactor breach will kill us equally dead. If I just … start the reactor cold the odds of surviving the star and surviving the ignition are about equal. Which is tae say, nonexistent.”
“If you have an idea, now would be the time, Scotty!” she barked.
“Oh, I have one,” he moaned. “I hate it, but I have one. I need the red matter that Mr. Spock has in his box.”
“What the hell are you planning to do with red matter?!” Uhura asked urgently.
“Inject an atom of it into the warp core and then cold start it,” he said.
Uhura sputtered. “You’re going to open a singularity inside the warp core?! That will help how exactly?”
“The singularity will absorb the energy from the cold-start implosion. Then, accretion from the matter and antimatter falling intae the singularity will release an enormous amount of energy. Heat and x-rays, with massive efficiency. Enough to fold spacetime even this close to the neutron star; warp eight, or higher. The singularity should collapse in a millisecond, before it tears us apart. I hope.”
“A little less theory and little more doing, Mr. Scott,” she sighed. “You have two minutes!”
The engineer was already running, with Kirk on his heels. He burst into Spock and Uhura’s quarters, fortunately already keyed for his entry because he really didn’t have time to break in. Spock looked up, tears of pain running down his face.
“Ah, Mr. Spock,” Scott sighed sadly, but headed straight for the box of Vulcan artifacts and upended it.
”Mr. Scott,” Spock said bleakly, following him. “I knew.”
“I know yeh did,” Scott answered, digging through the box.
”I knew, and I let you die. I let you die alone,” Spock continued in despair. “I once stood in a volcano, prepared to die alone, and I was rescued.”
Scott did look up at that. “There was no saving me, and I wouldnae have had you there tae see it. And now isnae the time, Mr. Spock,” he said.
“Jim,” Spock whispered. “You would not let me die alone. But everyone must. My mother was alone. I could never tell her I loved her. An Earth woman, living on a planet where love, emotion, is bad taste. How am I to live knowing that all I love will always leave me?”
“I’ve always known I’d die alone,” Kirk said weepily, fogged over again. “Can I hug you?”
“God almighty,” Scott groaned. “Red matter, Mr. Spock! Red matter, red matter, where the hell is … gotcha,” he said in triumph, snatching it up, and was running again.
“Why do you have red matter…?” Kirk asked Spock, switching back to himself for a moment. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. Engineering, Spock, now!”
Spock blinked, and then followed his Captain.
“Nyota!” Scott said, calling up to the bridge, no time for propriety. “Set a course. The moment I touch this off, we’re headed in whatever way we’re pointed.”
“Ready,” she called.
Scott set the board. “Captain. Mr. Spock. In fifteen seconds, cold start the reactor for one second and then turn it off again. This button, here, do yeh see? Yes? You can do that? Nod like you’re listening tae me.”
“Mr. Scott,” Spock lectured reprovingly. “You cannot cold start the reactor.”
“I am aware!” Scott shouted. “Hence the red matter. No time tae explain. Just do it, please!”
“I see,” said Spock slowly. “Mr. Scott, this is a very bad idea.”
“D’yeh have another one?!”
“A controlled implosion, perhaps, but the equations … there is insufficient time. I would prefer some modeling before we create a singularity in the middle of an uncontrolled warp reaction, however.”
“Me too! Cold start, on my mark,” Scott said.
“Understood, Mr. Scott,” the Captain said firmly
Scott grabbed a communicator and scrambled into the narrow tube that paralleled the deuterium injector and slammed the door behind him. He had built the red matter vial to extract atomic amounts, and drew down a single atom. “Captain, Spock! Ready? On zero; three, two, one, zero …” He injected the red matter just ahead of the deuterium stream at the moment before the core cold started.
The resulting explosion was entirely shock-and-awe, shaking the ship violently. Gravity and dampeners strained as the ship went end over end, and the core screamed in protest. Then the power flicked off, and it was over. Someone in engineering switched over to impulse and the power came back.
“Are we dead, Commander Uhura?” Scott asked breathlessly. He eyed his right forearm and the radiation chip implanted there, now glowing ominously red at him. Unsurprising, really, given how close he’d been to the emissions of a singularity, even one that existed only for a millisecond.
“Not dead,” Uhura answered. “We’ve traveled half a light year in a second which is … a speed record, to put it mildly. Also, we went to hyperwarp in the vicinity of a massive gravity well, Mr. Scott. Which, as you’ll recall, leads to …”
“Time travel,” he groaned. “Oh, god.”
“Twelve days backward,” she revealed. “Which explains the odd readings Mr. Spock made when we arrived. He was reading us. Is there any damage?”
“Probably,” Scott admitted. “Also, I hate tae mention it, but I’m stuck in a tube half inside the reactor until someone can set up a radiation field and get me out. I’m glowin’ in the dark here.”
“God, Scotty! You probably should have led with that. I’m sending a medical team now.”
Scott shook his head, trying to shake off the woolen feeling settling into his brain. “The Captain and Spock are down here. They are in and out of rational thought. Dinnae turn command over until McCoy or someone can sort this.” Scott said, and closed his eyes for a moment, just to rest, for a second ...
“Radiation is a son of a bitch to wake up from,” Kirk said conversationally from somewhere distant, apropos of nothing. “Believe me, I know. Take your time. Yep, there you are. Really awake this time, I think.”
Scott was flat on his back somewhere, and it was the medbay, which honestly made no sense, because he’d been relieved from duty and moping in his quarters for weeks. Kirk held up the vial of red matter into his swimming vision and … oh, right.
“How are yeh feeling, sir?” Scott asked weakly. He considered sitting up, and then thought better of it.
“I was a bit off the rails, wasn’t I?” Kirk said ruefully. “McCoy found a cure before any of us embarrassed ourselves further. Not exactly the way I wanted you and I to have that conversation about your life and death, by the way. You’re making a habit of resurrection, though. Three, now, to my one. It really isn’t a competition, Scotty.”
“He was barely dead this time,” McCoy said, wandering by. “Minute; minute and a half.”
“You saved the ship. Thank you. Now, however, I’m going to chew your ass.” The Captain held up the red matter again. “Care to tell me why this was in Spock’s sock drawer?”
Scott lifted his head. “Starfleet cannae know about that,” he begged. “Please tell me you didnae put that in a report.”
“I didn’t. We played it vague. And actually we haven’t sent it yet, because we’re still a few days in the past, and we’re not telling Starfleet about that either. That said, in the future if you synthesize and store a superweapon on my ship, I’d like to know.”
“Sorry, sir,” Scott said, and closed his eyes again.
“We have another problem, Scotty. DeSalle has resigned as acting Chief.” Scott opened his eyes again in confusion. “And Keenser. And all the other engineering lieutenants. And all the ensigns. And the techs and specialists. All hundred and two of them, standing there in red shirts, holding me hostage with the same demand to reinstate you as Chief. It’s mutiny, but I don’t have a choice really. So effective whenever McCoy clears you from this little adventure in radiation poisoning, you are back as Chief Engineer and second officer.”
He did sit up at that. “Starfleet isnae going tae like it, sir,” Scott said quietly. “And they aren’t entirely wrong in their thinking that you may nae want tae put a 2000-teradyne matter/antimatter reactor intae the hands of someone who didnae want tae live.”
Kirk shook his head. “That isn’t the situation. I know how long and hard you fought, Scotty. And when the twentieth century couldn’t help you anymore you made a decision about what you wanted from your life. As much as that decision hurt, I honored it then, and now.”
Scott rubbed his head, inner ear still spinning a bit. “Captain, my reasons were more, and less, complicated than that,” he said quietly.
”Yeah,” Kirk answered, jaw working in emotion. “Edith thought so too. She always understood things better than I did … The job is yours. If you’ll take it.”
“Aye, sir,” Scott answered. “There’s nothin’ in this or any other universe I’d rather do.”
“I know,” Kirk said, and rubbed his chin. “You’ll have to shave the fuzz off your face though.
“Mustache?” Scott asked hopefully.
“Don’t push it, mister,” Kirk growled.
“Jim,” Scotty started gently. “I was looking intae your eyes when you were holding that phaser … and wanting tae go, it’s…” he trailed off with a sigh, without the words.
Kirk patted the engineer on the shoulder, and he was all Captain Kirk again. “I’m fine, Mr. Scott. And not going anywhere, although after today I understand better. Don’t worry about me. Get some rest,” he said, and headed out.
Scott watched him go, then called, “Leonard, are you there?”
“Yeah,” McCoy said, popping back in. “Are you hurting?”
“Nae. But Jim Kirk is,” Scott said sadly. “Starfleet was worried about me, going straight from dyin’ back tae the Enterprise. But I may as well have arrived in heaven. Jim, though? He went from holding her hand, tae losing her forever. And he didn’t even get tae say goodbye. There were so many people that loved her, and he didnae get a chance to be held while he wept. Tae hear them talk about how much she meant. Tae grieve.”
“I know,” McCoy sighed. “He skated past the psych exam with Starfleet Medical because of the two week subspace lag. Because he could listen to their questions and then brace himself to answer.”
“How do we help him?”
“Time, Scotty,” McCoy said, shaking his head. “We give him time.”
Captain’s log, Stardate 2267.175. Nothing notable. Or, wait. Something Spock was interested in. An unusual moon around a gas giant? Something. We’re sending a shuttle out tomorrow to take a look.
“Well, Mr. Spock,” Scott said ruefully, studying the smoldering shuttlecraft. “We’re dead in the water for sure.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Yes. We do appear to be.”
Uhura stepped out of the shuttle shaking her head. “Communication is completely down. And even if we had any, I don’t think we could punch through the electromagnetic interference from the gas giant. It will be three days before the Enterprise even starts to look for us, when we miss the rendezvous.”
“We’ll be okay for a bit,” McCoy said. “We got lucky with this moon. The atmosphere is tolerable, and is doing a good job screening radiation. A little oxygen-thin, but should be okay as long as we aren’t doing wind sprints. Emergency supplies, food, and water are in good shape, if we’re careful. Encounter clothing to deal with cold. We have basic medic supplies. But with the synthesizer down what we don’t have, Scotty, is …”
“Aye,” Scott said with a sigh. “You’d think I woulda learned by now. Why the hell do I ever leave the ship without two weeks of medication?”
Sulu and Chekov came back, dusting fine red sand off their hands and trousers from a scramble over the nearby rocks.
“Some woody plants. It would be worth collecting some; they should burn, and the smoke wouldn’t be toxic.” Sulu said. “No surface water that we could find.”
“There is animal life. Perhaps even primitive intelligence,” Chekov continued. “And it is wery large. We may need to risk drawing down our battery power for a small force-fence, especially at night.”
“Get started on that, Mr. Chekov,” Spock ordered. “And Ms. Uhura, please take a look at the condition of our weapons. Dr. McCoy, Mr. Sulu, please collect vegetation for a fire and set up the shelter. Mr. Scott, you and I need to think creatively about the power situation. If we cannot get off the moon, the Enterprise may never find us, not with the interference from the planet.”
They all ‘aye, sir-ed’ and got to work.
The sun went down three hours later. It was a red giant, and had likely been a yellow dwarf very much like Earth’s sun, but at around 5 billion years older had left the main sequence and was fusing helium. Any inner planets had been incinerated, which was Earth’s fate, but the expanding star had given life to outer moons. It was their day in the sun, literally, and they had evolved life. It was an intriguing look into the possible lifecycle of the Sol system.
The life on the moon apparently didn’t realize it was scientifically interesting, and as darkness settled, began closing in on the aliens to their world. Their screeching, Chekov’s sharp shout, and the sound of phaser fire brought everyone running.
“Got you!” Sulu cried, putting his arm under Chekov’s shoulder and hauling him to his feet.
“Force shield!” Chekov gasped, then shouted. “Sound off! Inside the shield generators?! Spock?”
“Yes!”
“Scott?”
“Aye!”
“Uhura?”
“Yes!”
“McCoy?!”
“Shit shit shit! no … now yes!”
Chekov hit the shield generator, and the force screen sprang up between them and the pacing, snapping, toothy creatures, who tested the field and then fled when Spock lit a fire.
“Pretty beasties,” Scotty said conversationally. “Quite a lot o’ teeth, though.”
“Why,” McCoy moaned, “do we always end up trapped on planets with dinosaurs? Are you alright, Chekov?”
“One of them bit me in the leg,” he said tightly, and the Doctor grabbed his medkit and rushed over.
Scotty was looking nervously out at the shield generators, and glanced over at Uhura. “Grab a phaser and a light, Ms. Uhura, I want tae check the generators.”
“Aye, sir,” she said, and followed him.
He was crouched down, examining the last one, when he looked up into the golden eyes of a predator half a meter away. He jerked back with a curse, but the creature was on the other side of the shield, watching them and the generator carefully. “That’s intelligence in those eyes, d’yeh think?” he said softly. “Any possibility that the sounds they were making was language?”
Uhura frowned. “It sounded animal, but I’ll see if I can get a recording and listen more carefully tomorrow,” she said. The creatures were clicking and screeching just beyond the shield; getting a recording wasn’t going to be a problem.
“Come on,” Scott said. “Let’s get back tae the fire. I’d rather nae give them any more data on us than necessary.”
Spock and Sulu were handing out water and ration bars when they got back. “Ah, my favorite,” Scott grumped sarcastically. “Fishy mashed potatoes.”
“It is considerably better than nothing,” Spock chided.
“Oh, aye, I didnae say I wasnae going tae eat it. How are you feeling, wee man?” he asked Chekov
“Like I’ve been bitten,” Chekov sighed. “And not the fun kind. You ewer made love to a l’t’Knil, Scotty? Those bites are worth it. Wery nice tentacles too, once you explain where a prostate is …”
“And the venom makes yeh nicely high, aye.” Scott said. Nyota rolled her eyes and kicked at him. “Maybe nae fireside conversation though, Pavel.”
“I’m worried about infection,” McCoy admitted. “There were some nasty pathogens in that dinosaur saliva.” Chekov frowned unhappily, toying with the unappetizing food.
The group lapsed into silence, munching on the rations in the flickering firelight. Overhead the ringed gas giant spun on the horizon, and the stars of the galaxy twinkled in the deep darkness. This moon was on a similar plane relative to the galactic center as Earth, and the band of the Milky Way across the sky looked almost like home.
The night cooled, and Spock brought out coats and blankets as they drew closer to each other and the fire. Spock sat behind Nyota, settling her into his chest, and Nyota reached for Scotty and pulled his head into her lap. Scott looked up at her, a strange and sad look in his eyes. “You okay?” she asked softly.
“Aye,” Scotty said gently. “Are you?” She nodded, and he continued. “Nice stars here. Reminds me of … d’yeh remember that time Jim dragged us all tae Yosemite? He wanted tae go camping and rock climbing. Must have been 1997?”
“1998. Edith was unimpressed,” Nyota laughed. “With the camping part, that is. Yosemite is always impressive.”
Scotty chuckled, and launched into a story for Sulu and Chekov’s benefit. “So Jim is convinced that he can climb El Capitan. And we are staring up at this vast bloody rock face, and of course Jim is telling these young rock hooligans about the route up, which he’d done on antigrav protection 260 years later. And he cannae tie a damn rope, and is describing features that dinnae exist because they havenae been eroded yet. And they are looking at him like he’s a crazy person, and they’re looking sideways at me, wondering if I was going tae be nuts enough tae follow him up.”
“Did you?” Chekov asked.
“Nae, wee man. I was missing a hand, and was pretty sick besides. He hauled Leonard and Spock up a couple hundred meters, though.”
“It was horrible,” McCoy shuddered. “Edith thought it was hilarious, but she always did like to watch me suffer.”
“The Keptin doesn’t talk about her. Edith.” Chekov said.
“She was extraordinary,” McCoy said. “The kind of person who went to change the world, and did. We would sit around, dreaming of ways to make things better for people. And she wasn’t just a dreamer; she knew how to get right in and help now. ”
“She woulda fit right in on a starship, I’ll tell you that,” Scotty said wistfully. “And she could go toe-tae-toe with Jim Kirk, no mistake. She could and did kick all our arses. Well, everyone but Nyota, but no need there. They really loved each other, our Captain and his Edith.”
“The Keptin seems so sad,” Chekov said.
“He is,” Spock answered simply.
“Did Edith know the truth about you?” Chekov asked curiously.
“She did,” Uhura answered. “It took about a day for her to believe it after we told her. But green Vulcan blood, Scotty’s deconstructed hand, a tricorder, five Starfleet uniforms, and a phaser convinced her.” She paused, then mused softly. “I think that Yosemite trip was the last time we were all together. You were so unwell, Scotty. You’d started saying no to everything by then, and we barely convinced you to come. Edith worried about you the whole time, and you were gone six weeks later.”
“You’re right,” he said sadly. “That was the last time I saw her.”
“When Starfleet heard what happened, they nearly turned us around for home,” Sulu said. “I got a recorded call from twelve admirals in the middle of the night. They were terrified about Scotty and the Captain, and ‘profoundly concerned’ about everyone else. I managed to convince them not to do it, but I wondered if I’d done the right thing as it slowly sunk in that none of you had served in space for a decade. There kept being these small moments. The Captain fumbling for names. Mr. Spock hesitating on the sensor array. Scotty turned around on the deck. Dr. McCoy grabbing a bone-knitter instead of a dermal regenerator. Nyota opening a long range frequency instead of ship-to-ship. These tiny hesitations, these small mistakes.”
“I know the crew pretended not to notice, but they did,” McCoy said. “And believe me, we noticed them noticing.”
“Everyone is still worried about the Captain,” Sulu said as he stood to feed more logs into the fire. “Not for themselves. The Captain is the Captain, James T. Kirk straight through, and he’d die before he failed any of us. But his joy seems gone.”
“He’s still grieving. So very, very much,” Uhura sighed. “But I have faith he’ll find his way back.”
The fire crackled and they all stared into it, half-mesmerized, drifting tiredly. Spock finally stood, to a distressed noise from Nyota, and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. “Night appears to be ten hours long. Five watches, two hours apiece. On your feet, phaser in hand. Feed the fire and monitor the perimeter. I will take the first watch. Then Mr. Scott. Ms. Uhura. Mr. Sulu. Dr. McCoy, you are last. Mr. Chekov, before you protest, you are injured and require rest.”
The next days were spent essentially the same. Tasteless rations, broken sleep, trying to stay warm, no progress with the broken shuttle, and fighting off increasingly bold dinosaurs who had started methodically attacking the shield.
On the third night, Scotty got up in the middle of Spock’s shift, his hand braced on the side of the Shuttlecraft while he threw up.
“Bad rations or medical withdrawal, Commander?” Spock asked gravely.
“The latter, sir,” he croaked.
“Beyond the obvious, how are you feeling?”
Scott hesitated. “Feeling like this, again … I’m here. Arenae I? These arenae the last flickers of a dyin’ mind, are they?”
Spock stood, in some concern. “You are here. You are alive.”
Scotty smiled crookedly. “The trouble is, that’s exactly what the Mr. Spock in my head would say.” He held up a hand, which was shaking slightly, and he frowned at it. “No; I know where I am. Fitting back intae my body was hard, and it’s just throwing’ me backward a bit tae feel like this.” Another wave of nausea hit him, and he turned aside to vomit again. Scott blew out a breath and rinsed the sick out his mouth. “And besides, that taste of ration bar coming back up is very specific. I’ll be okay for a while. It’s about time for my shift, get some rest, sir, or at least keep Nyota warm.”
Spock nodded and Scott did a quick check of the shield generators, watched the entire time by the glittering eyes of the indigenous species on the other side. The dinosaurs seemed to want to eat them all very badly. “We’re nae tasty, lads,” Scott told them, and frowned at the generators. “As you’ll soon find out, because we’ve only got batteries for another nineteen hours.”
Scott went back to his sleeping crewmates and stoked the fire. Chekov stirred with a moan. “Gently, laddie,” Scott told him. He peeled back the shredded leg of Chekov’s trousers and grimaced at the hot, tight, infected flesh. He injected another hypo of antibiotics and pain medicine that McCoy had laid out for this shift, and got the sick navigator a bottle of water, but what they really needed was the medbay so McCoy could synthesize a targeted antibiotic. Scott stood quickly to throw up again, in definite withdrawal from the strong medicine he normally took every day.
“We’re having all sorts of fun, aren’t we,” Chekov said ruefully.
“Go back tae sleep, wee man,” Scott said. “The hypo should be kicking in soon.”
“I’ll keep you company until it does. How are the shield generators?”
“Holding,” Scott said.
“For now,” Chekov continued knowingly.
“Aye,” Scott admitted, and settled down beside him. “One way or another, we have just one more cold night on this moon, but nae two, because after that we’ll be devoured.”
“There’s all our problems sorted,” Chekov said flippantly, and then looked seriously at his friend and mentor. “Scotty. Did you die on Earth, in the past? Because there are rumors.”
“Aye,” he said simply.
“How?” Chekov asked mournfully.
Scotty reached out and patted the younger man on the shoulder. “Purposefully, son,” Scott said quietly.
Chekov clenched his jaw. “Why?” he whispered.
Scotty stood up, half shrugging, and turned away. He spoke quietly. “A hand I didnae have anymore hurt more than any pain I’d ever felt, until the next day, when it hurt worse. And my mind … “ he shook his head, without the words. “There was a special torture in lookin’ up at the stars knowing I’d never walk in them again. And I could try tae tell yeh about cocaine, and havin’ AIDS, and people telling yeh who yeh can and cannae love.” He swallowed, shoving back nausea, then sat again, rubbing absenting at his artificial hand. “And those are and arenae reasons. There was no hope for that universe, Pavel. Nothin’ that any of us could ever do that would make one damn bit of difference, not there. Hard tae fight for your life, when there is no point tae it at all.”
Chekov nodded slowly. “I understand.”
Scott sighed. ”That’s good. I dinnae.”
The fire crackled between them. “How long? Were you … gone?” Chekov ventured.
Scott scooted closed to the fire, shivering, and perhaps it was with the cold. “Two years, for them, they tell me. For me? I cannae say, Pavel. You know when you fall asleep, and then wake up and cannae tell if it’s been two minutes or twelve hours? That’s what it felt like.”
“Did dying hurt?” Pavel asked, shivering himself. “Were you afraid?”
Scott reached over and fussed with Chekov’s blanket, pulling it closer around the injured and feverish navigator. “It was fast. It’s livin’ again that’s been scaring me. Go tae sleep, laddie, we may have tae try tae outrun some dinosaurs tomorrow.”
Dawn came, pale and cold. Breakfast was quiet and distasteful, but Spock made them all eat their rations, except Scott who couldn’t keep anything down, although McCoy and Uhura were also struggling to a lesser extent. Scott opened the shuttle’s hatch, but it was too dark and he didn’t want to draw down the batteries with lights; he’d have to wait until the sun was higher to work. He sighed in aggravation, then grabbed a phaser and went to check the shield generators again. He was back ten minutes later, pacing twitchily.
Nyota shook her head and finally followed him, grabbing him firmly to hold him still near the front of the shuttle, half-blocked from view. She stood on her toes and skimmed her fingers down the back of his neck, pulling him forward to rest his forehead against hers. Spock came up behind her and wrapped a hand around her waist, then reached out with the other to brush the pressure points on Scott’s head—temple, cheek, pulse. They all breathed together for a moment, then stepped apart.
“Leonard,” Sulu asked quietly, stirring something that was supposed to be oatmeal. “Are the three of them sleeping together?”
“That’s a question I asked them back on Earth, when that,” McCoy gestured with his chin, “started to happen. And the answer is yes, but not how you’re thinking. It’s something Vulcan. Something telepathic and mental that made things easier. Its roots are in a ceremony on New Vulcan that I don’t entirely understand. Jim was part of it too, and when Scotty was in really bad shape I know Jim stepped in with them a few times. Maybe even Edith, through Jim. There is absolutely a physical element to it, of touch and sweat and skin, but I don’t know how far it goes. Whether it is or isn’t sex, it is profoundly intimate.”
“They couldn’t save him, in the end,” Sulu said quietly.
“No,” McCoy sighed. “It tore us up, you know. We were still in Scotland, drunk and whiplashing between getting angry and getting weepy. And guilty as all hell. But Edith reminded us that even if they’d been hard fought, he’d had enough good days and hours to keep him with us for eight years. And that he gave most of those good hours to us. And that’s damned intimate too.”
Sulu nodded, and watched Scott duck into the shuttle. “How do you come back from that?”
“I have no idea,” McCoy said heavily and stood. “I genuinely have no idea.”
A few hours later Scott pushed himself out of the guts of the shuttle’s machinery, and looked up at Spock from flat on his back. “Mr. Spock, I have an idea on the power situation, but you are no’ going tae like it,” Scott said. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then stood to find some water. The rest of the small crew looked up at them as they stepped outside. “It’s dangerous but it might work,” Scott continued. “I can adjust the main reactor to function with a substitute fuel supply.”
“That’s all very well,” Spock said, “but we do not have a substitute supply.”
“Aye, we do; our phasers. I can adapt them and use their energy. It will take time but it’s doable.”
“They also happen to be our only defense if the shield fails,” McCoy interjected.
“When it fails,” Scotty corrected, sitting down beside Chekov. He patted the feverish navigator, who looked up with a wan smile. “How yeh feeling lad?”
“I would like to go home,” Chekov said. “I am not feeling so good.”
“Draining the phasers puts us at risk just as our defenses fail,” Spock said. “And yet the phasers seem to be our only hope.”
“Aye.”
Scott stood and headed for the shuttle again. Spock followed him. “How long will it take?” he asked the Engineer urgently. “The batteries on the shield are failing even now; do we have time?”
“Five hours of batteries. Three hours of work. We have time.” Scott hesitated, then started pulling off panels. “But Mr. Spock, the best this will do is get us off the planet and intae a shaky orbit for a few hours. After that, we’ll be right back where we started, but with no resources left. And sir … we cannae take all of us. We’ll be overweight some 200 kilos. We can strip out parts, but there isnae much extra in a shuttle tae begin with.”
“Two of us will have to remain on the planet,” Spock surmised.
“Aye. And you have a hell of a choice tae make, Commander.”
“It will be a logical one,” Spock said heavily.
“Of course it will. Your phaser, sir?”
Spock nodded and handed Scott his weapon. “Go to work, Mr. Scott,” he said. “When you have my phaser drained we’ll go onto the next one.
“Aye, sir,” Scotty said. “Everyone needs tae stay out of the shuttle. It will be tricky work, and if a phaser overloads … well. There willnae be time tae get out. For what it’s worth, Commander, I volunteer to stay behind.”
“I shall not be taking volunteers. Work quickly, Engineer.”
The next time Scott stepped out, the job was done and the shuttle was ready. Spock was standing alone at the edge of the camp, staring up at the gas giant, his hands folded behind his back. The others were having a vehement argument about who should stay behind. This particular group being what it was, each was convinced that he or she should be left.
“That’s enough,” Scotty snapped, his voice cutting through. He rarely pulled rank, but when he did could be as fierce as the Captain or Spock. “Commander Spock will make the choice, and we’ll abide it.”
“My choice is made,” Spock said, coming to stand by his crew. “Our odds are poor, whether on the planet or on the shuttle. However, they are slightly better aboard the shuttle. My decision has therefore been based on who is most needed aboard the Enterprise , and whose role can be most easily replaced by another member of the crew. Mr. Chekov. Ms. Uhura. You shall remain on the planet.”
The two of them nodded tightly, absorbing and accepting it like the Starfleet officers they were. McCoy looked like he was ready to explode, but Scott grabbed him and shook his head, despite the grief in his eyes. “Shield will hold another hour. Shuttle is ready. There isnae time tae stand around. The Engineer fiercely hugged his two friends, then turned away to prep the shuttle. He didn’t bother to wipe away the tears streaming down his face. McCoy and Sulu followed suit.
“Mr. Chekov...” Spock started.
“An honor, Commander,” Chekov said. “Now, please, take Nyota’s hand and spend these last seconds with her.”
Spock inclined his head. “Nyota,” Spock said softly.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Your choice is the right one. I love you, Spock,” she said, and kissed him with all she had. He held her tightly, and sobbed, just once, before turning away.
“Live long!” she cried at his back. “Prosper, Spock, and find joy.” She helped Chekov to his feet to move them out of the backdraft of the shuttle, and they watched it rise into the air above them. The dinosaurs scattered in fear, but they wouldn’t be gone long. The shield flickered.
The damaged shuttle struggled for orbit, but managed a minimal altitude under Sulu’s expert hands. “We’ve got about forty-five minutes,” Scott said softly. “This interference is terrible.The Enterprise will have tae be looking right at us tae see us.”
Spock frowned hard at the instruments. “Gentlemen,” he asked slowly. “Do you trust me?”
“I hate questions like that,” McCoy grumbled. “Of course we do, Spock.”
With that, Spock reached forward and dumped their remaining fuel, igniting it in a trail that streaked behind the ship.
Sulu yelped and jerked back from controls. “That’s all our fuel! Every drop. There’s no landing back on the surface now!”
The men stared, aghast, at their commander, and then Scott laughed. “A distress signal?” he asked, and grinned fiercely. “Like sending up a flare. Maybe the Enterprise will see it. A good gamble, Mr. Spock, even if it doesnae pay off.”
“I suppose I’d rather die now on a last roll of the dice,” Sulu said. “That said, we are now a rock on a trajectory, and at the mercy of physics. Six minutes until atmosphere, sir.”
“At least I’ll die with the pleasure of having watched you make an entirely human decision,” McCoy said, reaching forward to slap Spock on the shoulder.
“Totally illogical,” Spock sighed. “There was no chance.”
“Exactly what I mean,” McCoy said.
There was nothing more to say. Six minutes later the shuttle began to heat and shake as the atmosphere started tearing it apart. They all knew they had seconds left, but faced it with the same grace as their friends on the planet. And then, beyond hope, the familiar feeling of the transporter grabbed them.
“Transporter room!” the Captain was shouting as they materialized. “Why do you only have four of them!?”
“Stand aside, laddie!” Scott barked at the transporter tech, jumping off the pad with Spock hot on his heels. “The other two are still on the surface …” he scanned quickly, hands flying over the controls. “Shield is down,” he said grimly to Spock, and jerked hard on the dematerialization lever.
Chekov and Uhura sparkled into existence, their eyes wide and hands raised, arms bloody from deep defensive wounds.
“You have amazing timing, Scotty,” Nyota said shakily.
“Six aboard, sir,” Spock reported to the Captain.
“What in the hell … you know what, just get up here right now,” the Captain said.
“A moment, sir,” Spock said serenely. He pulled off his duty tunic and wrapped it around Nyota’s bleeding hands, then leaned forward, his head against hers, vastly relieved.
Scott kissed her cheek on the way by, the injured Chekov under his arm, and waved a finger at Spock. “He went all in with no cards, and bluffed the universe. It was magnificent.”
“I made the only logical choices under the circumstances,” Spock said reprovingly.
Scotty just laughed on his way out the door.
“Like hell!” McCoy sputtered. “I know what I saw! Logical, my ass ...”
Captain’s log, Stardate 2267.350. A year without you. A year in deep space. And I feel certain that something must have happened this year. Yes, certainly, I remember now. The wonders of the universe. What are the wonders of the universe, my Edith, without you in it? I started this mission with hope. And now I wonder: why am I here?
Kirk arrived at morning report, balancing a coffee and absently flipping through his padd. “Morning Scotty,” he murmured to the other occupant of the room, also distracted by a padd. The engineer grunted something that may have been ‘Captain.’
Kirk was weary. Ten years, mostly, in space—in this century. Eleven years of life on Earth in another century. Twenty one years lived since he’d stepped on a ship called Enterprise and faked his way into a Captain’s chair. And since then, he had just lost. Lost Pike. Lost his own life in a warp core. Lost crew. Lost the Enterprise. Lost the century he’d been born in. Lost Scott to his own pain. Lost the century he’d found love in. Lost her. And although he’d regained a few things along the way, he was coming to discover that perhaps he’d lost himself too.
The rest of the department heads filtered in, yawning and subdued as they helped themselves to beverages and breakfast.
Spock started a dry report on the nebula they were surveying. A tricky scientific and navigational task, but nothing particularly new. Kirk squinted at his first officer and forced himself to focus. The meeting was breaking up when the comm sounded from the bridge.
“Keptin,” Chekov said, on the conn. “We are receiving a distress call. Approximately one light year away. We are still working on getting it translated, but it appears to be a meteor strike on ship.”
“Any response?” Kirk asked.
“It isn’t a subspace signal. Regular space, a compressed radio wave so right at the speed of light. We are picking it up on long range scanners, not the communications system; it appears to have just left the ship in distress and seems to be directed at a planet about ten light years away. It will be years before it is receiwed. It may be a spacefaring but pre-warp ciwilization. Space travel technology at near lightspeed, making a multi-decade trip possible, but no hope of rescue. At warp sewen we could be there tomorrow. If Mr. Scott could give us warp eight…”
Kirk was on his feet. “Scotty?”
“Aye,” the Engineer said, headed out of the room at a jog. “Let’s see what I can give yeh sir.”
The staff quickly broke to their stations. Chekov stood, relinquishing the center seat to the Captain. “Ms. Uhura, see what you can make of the language. Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked.
“I have it on long-range scanners. My estimation from its size and structure is that it is a colony ship. There could be thousands or tens of thousands of souls aboard. One point zero two light years away. I’ll know more about it’s condition as we get closer.”
Kirk hit the button for the comm. “Mr. Scott?”
“I can give yeh warp eight, sir.”
“Mr. Sulu,” Kirk said. “Warp eight.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Pre-warp civilization may mean this is a first contact with any intelligent life other than their own planet,” Kirk mused. “Ms. Uhura, start working on an appropriate message.” He hit the comm on his chair. “All hands this is the Captain. In the next few hours we may be engaged in a large-scale space rescue. Department heads and shift lieutenants please review the protocols, and all hands, review your specific role. We may have the opportunity to save many lives, if we work quickly and together.”
He turned to the Doctor, standing at his shoulder. “I’m on it,” McCoy said, turning to go. “Emergency medbay in the cargo hold. I’ll activate all our emergency medical personnel from the ship’s other departments
Kirk called down to Engineering again. “Mr. Scott we don’t know what we’re looking at yet, but as we get scans from Mr. Spock we’ll be able to refine. The engineering department is our rescue crew; be ready for anything.”
“Aye, sir, we always are.”
“Ms. Uhura, any feel for when we may be able to hail them?”
She shook her head. “If they can’t send a subspace signal they probably can’t pick one up, so we’re looking at radio. Twelve million kilometers would give them a 45 second delay, but at warp eight we’ll be there in 39 seconds. Realistically, they aren’t going to be able to communicate with us until we are right on top of them.”
“So we’ll scare the hell out of them.”
“Likely, sir,” Spock answered. “We should be sure our shields are up, in case they have weapons.”
“I’m getting a better feel for the message,” Uhura said. “Definitely meteor strike on an unshielded ship. Bulkheads dropped, energy systems damaged, propulsion offline, significant injuries. The signal was less a distress call and more a final report; while they are attempting repairs they don’t expect to survive to their destination. Colony ship, ten thousand souls.”
“Sixteen hours to the ship, sir,” Spock said.
Kirk nodded. “Spock, you have the conn, I’m going to walk through the departments to help with preparations. In eight hours I am going to want everyone but a skeleton crew to rest so we can all be fresh for rescue operations.”
Sixteen hours later the Captain of the Enterprise was back on the bridge.
“Three two one, dropping out of warp,” Sulu reported crisply.
It was a very big ship, almost four kilometers long, with rotating hubs that suggested they didn’t possess artificial gravity. The ship was spinning oddly, the awkward roll and pitch of a strike that hadn’t been corrected. It was surrounded by a halo of broken pieces and was venting gasses into space.
“Life signs Captain, and in significant numbers,” Spock reported. “Nine thousand six hundred and twelve. It appears to be fission powered, but systems are down. It is likely on emergency backup.
“Ms. Uhura,” Kirk said.
“I have a radio frequency ready and a translator algorithm online. Unknown though, sir, whether they are monitoring. They probably don’t expect to hear anything for decades, if ever.”
“Let’s give it a shot,” he said, and waited for her nod. “Unknown ship this is the Federation Starship Enterprise. We are a vessel of exploration and peace. We picked up your distress signal; can we be of assistance?”
“Nothing so far; I’ll repeat your message … still nothing.”
“We’ll just have to beam aboard …” Kirk started, but then there was a voice.
“... gracious gods. Who are you?”
Kirk sat up. “Friends. Here to help, if you need it?”
“Where are you from? Home?”
“We are not from your home planet. We are a ship of exploration, currently almost 3000 light years from our home.”
There was no response, until:
“... gods. Gods mighty. Life, from other worlds? Intelligent life. We hoped we were not alone in the universe, but did not dream … can you assist us?”
Kirk smiled. “We can. We will come aboard your ship. Is there a particular location that would be best?”
“Our airlocks are damaged,” the voice said regretfully.
“That isn’t prohibitive. We have teleportation technology. We’re reading a large space on the other side of the airlocks. Would that be acceptable?”
“Yes. That section is relatively undamaged.”
“We will be aboard shortly,” Kirk said, and Uhura closed the communication. “What does the atmosphere look like?”
“Near enough to Earth standard not to be a problem,” Spock reported.
“Ms. Uhura, you’re with me. Spock have a discrete security team meet us in Transporter Room One.”
Uhura rigged them all with translation devices; a broadcast button on their collars so that their hosts could understand them, and an earpiece so they could understand their hosts. Phasers and communicators in pockets, and the transporter officer put them in the middle of a wide cargo bay.
There was a clear welcoming party, but also a crowd, all of whom stepped back in fear as the Enterprise officers materialized. Then the welcoming party steeled themselves and came toward them.
The species was a little smaller and denser than a human, bipedal, lightly haired or furred in blacks and browns. Uhura took in their eyes, set on the sides of their heads, and the vestigial remains of hooves on their hands. “Likely herbivores, sir. They often have flight reactions to binocular vision, as it is usually associated with predators. Watch out for prolonged eye contact and showing teeth,” she reminded him.
One of them spoke. “I am Governor Grelso Tresin. This is Captain Dared Andoln. Welcome to the Cataico. Please forgive the many onlookers. We are a colony ship and have all been together for many years. We keep no secrets. Not that we could; your ship is visible outside our observation windows and has caused a stir, to put it mildly.”
“We are honored to be here, Governor. I’m Captain James T. Kirk. This is Lieutenant Commander Nyota Uhura; Lieutenants James and Wocer.”
“Captain Kirk,” the Governor said. “I would like nothing better than to sit with you for days and learn everything I can of your people and your travels …”
“...but you have injured people and a badly damaged ship. Let’s take care of them first, and we can sort out the diplomacy later,” Kirk agreed. “With your permission, I’m about to beam over about 140 people. Engineers and medical personnel, mostly, and we can get started.”
The first priority was stabilizing the ship to ensure no further damage. The Enterprise grabbed it with tractor beams to stabilize rotation and then carefully extended her shields around it, in case there were further meteors. The second priority was rescue. And the third was repair, if repair was possible.
The Governor looked on, a little fearfully, as the rather fearsome-seeming Enterprise crew teleported aboard. It occurred to him, rather too late, that this was a scientifically and technically advanced predator species that was fully capable of killing them all, and that he was risking much with his trust. But the alternative seemed to be to die slowly in space.
Scott came over in the first wave and spotted Captain Kirk. He beelined over, in his usual state of focused intensity when there was a problem to solve, and the colonists shifted nervously. Uhura gestured to him; tone it down. He took a breath and dropped his gaze.
“I’m trying tae sort out the priority, sir,” he told the Captain. “Power or rescue? And it depends on the state of the reactor and the level of danger it poses. What is your power source, sir?” Scott asked the Governor.
“I’m not a nuclear engineer,” the Governor said apologetically, “and our engineer is missing. Captain Andoln?”
The commander of the colony ship continued. “At its basic level? Uranium suspended in water, creating heat and steam that spins turbines.”
Scott nodded, hands in his hips; it was old technology, but familiar. “Any chance that we are looking at a meltdown or the possibility of one? Exposure of the uranium? Loss of coolant?”
The captain made a gesture that seemed to be ‘no,’ then caught herself. The communication was good but the nuance wasn’t there yet. “No,” she said. “There’s a failsafe that doesn’t depend on power. It is mechanical; if the temperatures reach a certain level the core will melt through a plate and slide into outer space where it is sufficiently cooled.”
“Smart,” Scott said approvingly. “In that case I’m inclined tae leave the core alone until we can examine the entire power system and the core itself for damage. And that can wait until after hull stabilization and rescue. For the time being we could use the Enterprise’s spacedock umbilicals. Rig a connection and reverse the power flow.”
Kirk agreed. “Do it, Scotty. If we can get to basic stability, I then want our focus on rescue.”
“Aye, sir,” Scott agreed, and plowed his way back to his assembled people, talking loudly and quickly as he deployed them to their jobs.
Uhura grimaced. “He’s the best there is, Governor, but he can be a little intense.”
“He reminds me of a … “ the Governor said a word that didn’t translate. The translator in their ears paused and then guessed: large dog.
“Our translator struggled with that word, sir, but took a good guess, and I agree,” she said, trying not to smile too toothily.
The colonists were wide-eyed with astonishment that they weren’t going to die, and that their saviors were aliens. Kirk and Uhura spent two very busy hours interfacing between the Enterprise crew and the colonists, working out the logistics and the communications kinks. Abruptly, however, everything was sorted, everyone was clear on their role, and everyone was hard at work—except them.
“Scotty said there is still a pile of search and rescue packs in transporter room one, sir. I’ll go grab two,” Uhura said. She dematerialized, to the shock of some passing colonists, and was back a moment later with two bags.
They both wordlessly upended them and got their kits in order. Kevlar gloves, two mid-weight antigrav lifts, flashlight, handheld medical scanner, plasma torch, basic medical pack, voiceless emergency beam out beacon, and an environmental collar that would give them a ten second bubble of air in the event of decompression. Uhura helped Kirk seal the collar around his neck, and lifted her chin so he could help her.
“Enterprise, Kirk,” the Captain said. “Commander Uhura and I are moving forward to help in rescue efforts.”
The part of the ship they’d been in had been relatively unscathed, but as they moved forward the damage quickly became worse. The ship had been at nearly lightspeed at the time of the strike. It was a testament to the strength of the ship that it had survived at all. But the first fifty meters of the ship had been sheared off, and the forces at work had buckled about 300 meters behind the strike, twisting metal and bringing down floors. Unfortunately, the damaged section of the ship appeared to be largely family quarters of the colonists.
The Enterprise crew was here, along with many of the colonists, carefully picking their way forward, scanning for life signs and bodies. McCoy was a bit behind the main work with a dozen medics, running treatment and triage.
The work was tricky. The transporter was of limited help; it was dangerous to beam into or out of unstable spaces. You certainly didn’t want to beam out someone who might be impaled with a piece of metal, as the shock of leaving the metal behind could kill them. On the other hand, beaming them out with the metal still in them could bring down the unstable deck around the rescuers and survivors. And so rescue efforts were largely by hand; plasma torches and antigravs and brute force.
Kirk and Uhura pushed forward through the narrow spaces, cutting victims out inch by inch and hour by hour. They were filthy from soot and grease, their uniforms snagged and torn, bleeding here and there from a jagged edge, but they pushed on with determination. They were deep into the wreckage, and mostly pulling out bodies, when Kirk got an encouraging blip on his scanner.
“I’m getting a lifesign behind this panel,” the Captain said, slithering forward in his belly. “If I could just shift it …” he grunted and pulled.
He was greeted by the wide, startled, tear-tracked eyes of what he guessed was a child. “You’re an alien!” the person gasped, and yes, that was a child’s voice.
“Hello,” he said gently, and her eyes darted around trying to understand the translated voice overlaying with the English he was speaking. “My name is Jim. And I am an alien. But you live on a spaceship; you really should expect to meet a few.”
“That’s what I keep telling Mrs. ….” an untranslated word in his earpiece, probably a proper name. “I’ve been telling her that surely there are aliens!” the child continued precociously.
“Well, you were right. I’m here to help you; your spaceship crashed. What’s your name?” he asked her.
“Eadeth,” she answered, and he blinked in surprise.
“That is a lovely name,” he said, swallowing back the lump in his throat. “Someone I love has a name that sounds a lot like yours. Are you hurt, Eadeth?”
“No. But …” she tried to move. “I’m stuck!” she complained in frustration.
Kirk scanned her; she really was pinned as badly, trapped against rubble and the outer hull of the ship. He glanced back at Uhura. “We’re going to need some help with this one.”
“Aye, sir,” she said, and backed out.
Eadeth chattered a million questions at him while they waited: did he have a ship? What was the name of the ship? Was it fast? Was it big? What color was it? Where did he come from? She couldn’t move her arms but he was able to reach forward and pour some water into her mouth, and a bit of food.
Uhura was back ten minutes later with Scott, who wiggled into the tight space with the Captain.
“Hello,” Eadeth said cheerfully, much comforted by the food, water, and company.
“Hello, lassie,” Scotty said.
“This is Eadeth. She’s stuck but not hurt,” Kirk explained.
Scott scanned. “Aye, stuck good,” he said with a frown.
“Can we transport her out?” Kirk asked.
Scotty grimaced. “She’s completely surrounded by metal. I’m worried about that kind of precision, especially since there is some magnetic interference. The ship might intermingle with her pattern.”
“Cut her out, then?”
“She’s deep in here. Days, sir.”
Kirk frowned, and tapped above them. “This is the outer hull, isn’t it? Can we seal off behind us and take her through the outside?”
Scotty considered it. “Aye, that’s doable. Give me an hour or so to get things set,” he said, and backed out.
Nyota was back and forth several times with more food and water. One time she came back with word that she had found Eadeth’s despairing parents. Eadeth’s father came up with Uhura the next time, and stroked his child’s face.
Uhura returned a final time with an environmental collar. “Scotty said they’re ready. Can you get this around her neck? He’ll get her beamed out as soon as she is clear of the wreckage, but this will protect her from vacuum.”
“Beam us out,” the Captain corrected. “I’m not leaving her.”
“Scotty figured,” Uhura answered ruefully. “The EVA team is going to take off this entire panel above you both. I’m headed out, and we’ll seal you in. Good luck, sir.”
Kirk got the collar around Eadeth’s head with some difficulty. He felt the pressure change in his ears as the crew sealed them in so the decompression wouldn’t affect any other part of the ship. Kirk double checked her environmental collar, and his own, then reached out and touched her chin.
“Deep breath Eadeth, and be brave. This may be a little scary.” He hit his comm. “Okay, we’re ready. One shot, Scotty, let’s get this right.”
“Aye, sir,” Scott said, and then called the EVA team. “Go, Peters, quick as yeh can!”
The panel above them both abruptly pulled away, sucking them both into space. The environmental collars snapped on, giving them a breath and protecting them from the vacuum of space, although the deadly cold immediately closed around them. Kirk kicked forward, hard, off the hull and wrapped his arms around her, just as the familiar comfort of the transporters picked them up.
The materialized in a bit of a pile on the floor, and Scott looked relieved. Eadeth looked up at Kirk in awe. “Welcome to the Enterprise, Eadeth,” he said, trying very hard not to smile too hard and frighten her. She just wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “I’m sure it is a very nice ship Jim,” she said seriously. “But I probably ought to go home so my parents don’t worry.”
“I’m quite sure you’re right,” Kirk said, and nodded at Scotty, who put them gently back down on the colony ship near Uhura and McCoy, and her joyful parents
The colony ship wouldn’t quite be the same, and the forward section had been sealed off, but the Enterprise EVA team and Engineers patched her together. Scotty brought the power system back online without difficulty, and the near-lightspeed propulsion system. Medical healed the injured colonists, some of whom had required surgery, and there was a somber ceremony for the dead.
As promised, the Captain answered every question the awe-struck Governor had for him. ”A universe of life,” the Governor said in wonder.
”It’s beautiful beyond words,” Kirk agreed, and then it was time to part ways. The colonists were a half light year from their new home, and the Governor declined the Enterprise’s offer for a warp boost.
“No, Captain,” he said. “I think it’s important for us to finish as we started. Only a few more months!”
The Enterprise cruised along beside the giant ship for a few hours to make sure she got safely up to speed. Spock put the colony ship’s hull up in the viewscreen, and they could see many faces pressed against the windows, watching the Enterprise in awe. Then, with a cheerful goodbye, they moved to a safe distance and went to warp in a flash of light Kirk hoped the colonists would always remember.
The Enterprise quickly traveled the short half-light year to the world their friends had picked. It was a gorgeous little planet, and they were all pleased. Before they left, they beamed down a box of equipment and supplies to greet the colonists when they arrived, emblazoned in the side with the Starfleet emblem so they couldn’t mistake who had left the gift.
The next day, Kirk walked into the morning report feeling lighter than he had in a year.
“Mornin’, sir,” Scotty said cheerfully, pouring some tea. “I dinnae ken what got me remembering, but I was thinking about your wedding. And Leonard being so damn nervous about the toast. He was so drunk that he …”
“...started talking about Starfleet Academy, caught himself, and then had to invent an incredibly weird metaphor about space on the fly to cover,” Kirk laughed. “I remember. That was a good day.”
“Aye, it was, sir. Your bride was beautiful, and you even cleaned up okay yourself.”
Kirk looked seriously at the Chief. “We had a few of those, didn’t we? Good days. Back then.”
“Oh, aye sir,” Scotty said easily. “Plenty. I dinnae ken that I’d ever had quite so much fun as I did winding up twentieth century physicists with the suggestion that faster than light travel was possible. And time travel. Stephen Hawking figured us out, did yeh know that? Confronted me with all the evidence after a conference and I had tae tell him the truth. Showed him the warp equations. He called me ‘that fucking time traveler,’ and everyone thought he was joking.”
“I didn’t know that story, it’s a good one,” Kirk chuckled. “God, Scotty. I feel so much better today than I have in ages, and I have no idea why. Maybe …” he hesitated. “Maybe I’m getting over her.”
Scott shook his head. “I figure yeh cannae get over someone like Edith Kirk. No, sir. But I know what it is. You saved ten thousand people yesterday. I think she would call that a halfway good start on a day’s work.”
Kirk smiled wistfully. “Yeah, she would. I miss her.”
“Of course yeh do. But when yeh take what’s here,” Scott pointed at the center of the Captain’s chest, then gestured out, “and put it out here. Well. She’s nearly standing next to yeh then, isnae she?” Scott glanced up as Uhura, McCoy, and Spock walked into the room. “Ah, Dr. McCoy. We were just takin’ about yer catastrophic toast at the Captain’s wedding.”
“Oh, god,” McCoy moaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“As I recall, it included the line ‘Starfleet is like a fleet of stars in the sky,’” Spock deadpanned, and Scott nearly spilled his tea; he and Nyota were leaning on each other, laughing hard and quoting other memorable lines to each other.
“It wasn’t that bad,” McCoy complained, crossing his arms.
Kirk patted him on the shoulder. “It really was, Bones.” He looked around at his smiling friends, his crew, and was grateful to be serving them, and the universe, aboard the good ship Enterprise.