ST TOS Fanfiction--- Infinite Diversity and Combinations 8/13
A/N So very sorry it has taken me so long (as in forever) to post this chapter. My life went crazy. No longer unemployed *sighs in relief* but that also means I am often exhausted and have little time for the things that are important to me *whimpers* to top it all I uh… *blushes* met someone and "whirlwind" barely describes how that all went. Yes, it is a good thing, and yes it distracted me A LOT.
But I will try to update as often as I can. I swear I haven't abandoned this story and I WILL finish it, even if it takes me all year. (Hope it won't, but hey it took two and a half years for Lee to write "To Kill a Mockingbird") I promise I will make up for the long waits if it is in my power to do so.
Special Thanks to all those who have been patient with me *tear of apology* and to GoatStew for being the Soral in my life.
It seemed like Peter had only barely managed to drift into sleep before the alarm went off. He groaned and rolled from his bed. His body was letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that he had partied too hard and too late.
Not going to be a pleasant day.
He rubbed his face roughly, then blinked twice at the sudden burst of light coming from his door.
"You know the override code for my room?" Peter asked the intruder with one eye open.
"It was not difficult to deduce that you would use a combination as effortless as your birthdate."
Peter groaned, "Soral… could you just shut up… and help me find my other boot?"
"Perhaps we should inform the Captain that you are not physically able to adequately perform your duties today."
"No way in heck," Peter jumped to his feet, "I'm fine. Nothing a little energy booster won't cure."
There was no need for Soral to voice his opinion on that statement, his face said it enough.
"I'll be okay," Peter finally whispered, "I got some sleep. Besides, it is the privilege of my species to be stupid once and a while. It only serves us right to pay the consequences later… Seriously, where in the Andromeda Galaxy did I put that blasted boot?"
"Doubtful that it has transported to the Andromeda Galaxy. Considering the technology to perform such a senseless feat does not yet exist. Have you checked under your bed?"
"Dude I'm not that stup- Oh. Sure enough."
The Vulcan observer did not bother to raise his eyebrow at Peter's sheepish look, he instead worked out the replicator controls to create a beverage that was slightly better than the stimulants Peter was no doubt planning to overdose on.
"You're shift starts in 32 minutes. I will naturally alert you when it is time to leave."
"Thanks," Peter yawned as he made his way over to Fizzy, "I'll see ya after our shift… and Soral?"
His friend paused in the doorway.
"Just… uh… today we are going into a part of space that's very… Twilight Zone."
"Pardon?"
"Never mind… just… be careful today. Might get bumpy."
"I would advise you to exercise the same caution, Peter," Soral said. He left the room quickly, and tried to concentrate on his own tasks. Logic told him there was no merit to the idea of a "Human hunch." Peter's unease and sudden urge to express concern over their safety was likely due to his sleep deprivation and the abusive substances he and consumed in alarming rates the previous night. And yet… he found Peter's statement to be disquieting. Spock had once told him that both Captain Kirk and Peter had a unique ability to… sense things. He was uncertain what "Twilight Zone" meant, but it clearly made Peter uncomfortable. As strange as the notion was, if Peter was uneasy… then he was too.
Kevin Riley sat rigidly in the First Officer's chair. His eyes were riveted to the image of the D'Vahl on their viewscreen. Science vessels seemed so vulnerable somehow…
He shook his head and dismissed (for the fifth time that morning) the feeling of unease that kept creeping into the back of his mind. This ship was the most sophisticated in the whole blasted 'Fleet. The D'Vahl would be with them the entire time, and both crews were well seasoned. Surely they could handle anything.
"Captain, message from the D'Vahl. They are ready to proceed."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Captain Bailey said, "Send them our flight plan and inform them we shall be under way shortly."
As Riley oversaw the final preparations, his thoughts kept straying to the image of the very Human Peter Kirk in a Vulcan uniform. It had been startling, at first. Peter was so… "Kirkish" and yet oddly enough he seemed to fit in with his Vulcan crew. It was like putting an odd ingredient in your Grandmother's tried-and-true recipe, then discovering it tasted better. Peter Kirk and a Vulcan ship was surely the strangest combination he had ever seen, and yet it worked. Also, he had to admit, somehow knowing that a Kirk was on board the other vessel made Riley feel confident. He swallowed down another surge of anxiety, and snapped his full attention to their task.
Distress Call from USS Legacy Coordinates of Messages Origin: Unknown
We've lost power to…
It had all happened so quickly. Peter had been calculating some menial data that the Captain would be sure to ask for in six minutes. His computer screen suddenly went blank, and a sickening feeling came over him as he felt his entire body begin to lift away.
"Artificial Gravity is offline, Captain!" T'Enya said loudly in a tone that was slightly more tense than her norm.
Peter grabbed onto his console to try and steady himself as he floated away. His mind flashed back to every zero-gravity training exercise he had endured at the Academy. He always got queasy. Suddenly the triple shot latte Soral had made him seemed like a bad idea.
The communication system went nuts. Every deck had been affected, there were calculations and theories and statements, but no answers. Over the din of Vulcan observations, Peter could hear his own labored breathing. He closed his eyes and tried to force the nauseating sensation down. His knuckles were white on his console
I'm in a field of flowers. I'm looking up at stars. I'm not feeling like I'm going to barf… If I puke now I'll never live it down…
Peter opened his eyes to see T'Enya inching her way towards him.
"Are you alright?" she asked in Terran. The words sounded so strange amongst the rapid fire Vulcan clamor around him.
He nodded once.
"You should try to work your way below the console. When the gravity is restored your reflexes will be unable to compensate. It is highly likely you will land in such a way as to injure yourself."
"Thank you for the usual vote of confidence, T'Enya," he snapped bitterly as he felt the Latte working its way up the back of his throat.
I may be the comic relief for a greater power in this Universe, but I sure as Sol don't want to throw up in zero gravity on this bridge.
T'Enya reached out a hand and touched his shoulder. She touched him! It was so startling he accidentally let go of his grip and pushed backwards. That was a mistake. Somewhere in the back of his mind Peter registered that flailing his arms as if he were swimming did nothing except make him look twice as stupid as he felt.
I hate zero-gravity.
T'Enya simply frowned and worked her way towards him. She reached out a hand and pulled him back towards the console.
And suddenly… he didn't feel so sick anymore.
3 hours 23 minutes and 17 seconds had gone by, and the Artificial Gravity had not been restored. Furthermore, communication was being hampered by the difficulty of reaching the relay stations.
Soral's thoughts went to Peter. As he recalled, his Human companion had never done well in zero-gravity training. He hoped that either Shoran or T'Enya would aid him, if it became necessary.
Soral pulled himself forward along the wall until he at last reached the hatch he was trying to access. It would normally take him approximately 45 minutes to crawl his way to the gravitational circuitry; however he had no clear idea about the length of time it would take him in zero gravity. He knew he would also be brushing past cables one should never pull on or touch in any situation. Particularly one of this volatility.
He paused long enough to acknowledge that, for once, logic was not offering him a clear solution to this predicament. He even found himself wondering if Peter would happen to come floating down the hall to offer his own advice.
He glanced backwards down the empty corridor, then slipped into the crawl space.
Nothing brings me down,
When you're around.
It's like zero gravity.
What a time for a semi-obnoxious Old Earth song to pop into his head. Although he had to admit, being weightless, clinging desperately onto the bottom of his chair, with the hottest Vulcan chick on the ship holding him down… was one of the most exciting situations he had ever been in. This even topped the secret Archer Hill make-out spot.
Maybe it was the fact that he had been weightless longer than any simulation room exercise, but he actually was feeling pretty danged good.
A loud sound from somewhere in the deck bellow him made him flinch just as he felt the sudden impact of the floor beneath him.
"Ooooof!" he gasped as the breath came flying out of his lungs. Not the phrase he'd have chosen to use with T'Enya on top of him. She scrambled off and returned to her post in true by-the-book fashion. Her face was completely blank.
There was no time for blushing or snide remarks. Orders were barked, analysis was being made, and he had a job to do.
Distress Call from USS Legacy Coordinates of Messages Origin: Unknown
… illumination….
Captain Bailey rubbed his shoulder subconsciously as the damage reports came in. In all his years he'd never experienced such a prolonged loss in Artificial Gravity. Perhaps there was some credibility to the nickname "Twilight Zone" that some crewman had dubbed the region of space.
No doubt the D'Vahl would soon be sending some rational calculated explanation for the phenomenon. Didn't change the fact that it had been one of the most disconcerting feelings he had ever experienced.
He turned to glance at his First Officer (who had managed to land on a significantly softer part of his body and therefore suffered no injury other than to his pride) and gave him a "well… that was different" look.
There was no time for the fuming Irishman to respond. A high pitched screeching was heard, followed by total darkness.
If profanity could illuminate a hallway, Peter Kirk would have been radiant. Unfortunately, he was still feeling his way along the wall in complete darkness, with only the occasional colorful Terran metaphor to break the eeriness of this new situation.
I'm Peter Kirk. I like gravity and being able to see where the grondiga I am going. I like knowing where I am, and I don't like feeling my way along a wall. BLAST!
Peter stumbled forward as his foot brushed against something metal.
"Is anyone on this deck?" He called out.
No answer.
Great. Captain asks me to go assess damage and I end up being a casualty.
"Could be worse," he said aloud, "We could lose gravity again. Lucky thing it was restored else I'd really be freaking out."
"Peter!" a muffled voice called out.
"Soral?"
"I am in need of assistance."
Peter felt his heart skip a beat, "Where are you?"
"In the crawl space approximately 2 meters to your right."
"You were caught in there when we lost gravity?"
"Negative."
"You mean to tell me you went through it afterwards? Are you nuts?"
"I concluded that Engineering would be unable to manually restart the AG from their location. Being that I was already stationed on this Deck it was only logical that I-"
"Logical my butt! You could've been killed!"
"I exercised appropriate precautions."
"Uh-Huh… what do you need? Are you hurt?"
"Negative, however I am unable to see. Do you have a source of illumination?"
"No. I'm as blind as you… wait a sec!"
Peter dropped to his knees and felt blindly behind him. His fingers finally grasped the item that had caused him to stumble. A Tri-Corder.
He turned it on. The strobe effect of the light was irritating, but effective.
"Okay, you by Hatch 33?"
"Affirmative."
"You know," Peter griped as he slithered into the hatchway, "One of these days I ain't gonna be around to save your scrawny butt." He paused his griping and dropped a not-so-quiet metaphor.
The route before him had been littered with loose wires and paneling. His crude lighting method made him feel close to having an epileptic fit, and Soral was crouching rather awkwardly on the other side of the mess.
"Well…"
"Indeed."
Captain T'Maire had seen exactly 12 different spacial phenomenons that made her uneasy. However, this situation, with an unexplainable loss in ship's functions followed by unanticipated systems failures… was the only phenomenon that made her actually question why she had taken her ship into the region.
She had read every report from both Vulcan and Starfleet. There had been reports of some unusual systems failures… but nothing of this magnitude. Something was terribly wrong.
NEXT CHAPTER...