Hundred Days
New piece of Star Trek: The Original Series fan fiction from me.
Summary: This piece depicts the 100 days of a near-war between the Federation and the Romulans. One hundred days, one hundred chapters. AU, since no conflict ever happened in canon. Set during the second five-year mission, circa 2272, or the year after Star Trek: The Motion Picture.
Rating: PG-13/T. No slash, ever, I promise.
Hundred Days
0827
He should be here by now, I think. Jim would have made contact with me. I am his first officer. I am his friend.
“Commander Spock,” a lieutenant called as he quickly approached me. “Commander, we can’t find any sign of him in his room.”
While I may be unaccustomed to the human prospect of “humor,” I know for a fact that if this is Jim attempting to “play a joke” on me, I do not find it humorous at all. Another thought crosses my mind for Jim’s absence.
“Perhaps he is with…a female acquaintance,” I phrase carefully. The young lieutenant blushes, and I quickly stride off, not wanting to embarrass the man any further.
I allow my mind and body to wander, and I find myself in Jim’s hotel room. This was only supposed to be a simple shore leave on Rigel before the crew got under way again. Jim of all people understood how a starship needed to stay on schedule. This was uncharacteristic of him-he wouldn’t be late to the Enterprise for any woman in the galaxy.
Why this time?
I walk around the room three times, finding no evidence of a struggle-friendly or otherwise. All his personal effects are in their proper place and accounted for, except for what he was wearing. I collect everything, and return to the rendezvous point.
“We have no choice but to return to the Enterprise and wait for him,” I say. “Contact the Enterprise for beam out.”
A few of the men exchange glances which I cannot interpret. They appear surprised, but that is as close as I can come.
“Aye, sir,” one finally says as he withdraws a communicator.
I take one last look around the planet. The last thought I have before I dissolve in the effect of the transporter is a human axiom that I have never completely understood until this moment:
It is going to be a long day.
The moment I rematerialized in the transporter room, I quickly wished (illogically) I was back on the planet. Doctor McCoy stood next to the transporter console, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, and a scowl upon his face.
“Where the hell is Jim?”
Resisting the urge to sigh, I gather my suitcase as well as Jim’s and step off the platform. McCoy walks forward to meet me, and when we do meet I unceremoniously hand McCoy Jim’s bag. “I believe the correct answer here is, ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’”
“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that for Starfleet,” McCoy growls as he grabs the proffered bag.
“I do not see why,” I reply. “We are waiting for him. He will no doubt become aware he is more than half an hour late for the rendezvous, and I also left a message for him at the desk. He is quite resourceful, Doctor, I have no doubt Admiral Kirk will be rejoining us shortly. If you will excuse me?”
I do not wait for his reply, but stride past him and out the doors of the transporter room. I am convinced that McCoy's reaction is, as usual, extreme. The bridge crew has a more professional handling of any crisis situation and I expect to find calm. Instead, I am greeted with an eruption of questions and comments as to Kirk's absence and my command.
When I raise my eyebrow, all conversation ceases. Jim once told me my eyebrow fulfills the purpose of facial expression in humans. Even after events such as these, however, I believe he is disillusioned in his belief. Nevertheless, I am undeniably thankful they are silent.
“To answer your questions: no, I do not know where Admiral Kirk is. No, I do not intend to leave him there, although I assure you the admiral would no doubt find numerous activities to occupy himself.”
A wave of barely restrained laughter ripples across the bridge, and it appears if they really do believe nothing is wrong. Reassured I am not going to usurp Kirk’s throne, they return to their duties.
I glance at his empty chair and then back to the viewscreen. Perhaps the bridge crew is reassured…but I am not.
0913
When the 45 minute mark ticked by, I checked the communications equipment onboard. I doubled the scanning power of the Enterprise to pick up any kind of transmission from the planet. When the hour mark slipped away into the past, I knew something was beyond wrong. I went into Kirk’s office, instructed Uhura to open a secure channel to Starfleet, and told them the situation.
They were equally concerned as I was, perhaps even more. They passed the information along, and I ended the transmission and waited.
I decide to pay Dr. McCoy a visit. He looks up from a desk in Sickbay proper, then nods toward his office. I walk in with McCoy behind me. He shuts and locks the door.
“You contact Starfleet yet,” he asks.
I nod solemnly. “Yes. They appeared very concerned. I cannot help but think we are not privy to all components of the equation.”
“Knowing Starfleet? Probably not, no,” he sighs and sits down at the desk there, ushering me to do the same. I slowly take a seat. “What do you think?”
“If he has been abducted, it did not take place in his hotel,” I say after a moment’s contemplation. “In fact, it did not appear as if he had been there since he unpacked.”
“What did the security say at the hotel?”
My eyes narrow. “They are typical private security-untrained, and unwatchful.”
McCoy sighed. “Damn. Were they any help at all?”
I shake my head. “Not to me. I have no doubt that Starfleet will be visiting them, with more…incentives.”
McCoy chuckles sardonically. “One hand washes the other, I guess.”
“Perhaps it will work to our benefit,” I ponder aloud. McCoy only shrugs.
I look at the chrono above McCoy’s head and stand. “I have been gone long enough. I will contact you if I find out anything else.”
“Mm-hmm,” he says absentmindedly.
As I return to the bridge, I make note of the time again. 0920. “Anything?”
Uhura shakes her head, and we continue to wait.
1205
I am sharing a hurried lunch with Doctor McCoy in his office (“I’ve got too much paperwork, let’s just stay here,” was his reason. I think he is worried to leave a computer through which we can receive Starfleet’s communications) when Uhura sends out an all-ship page.
“Commander Spock, please contact the bridge.”
McCoy and I stop eating immediately, although neither of us appears to have much of an appetite, and McCoy punches the bridge code.
“Commander Uhura, this is Spock. What is it?”
Uhura’s voice is one of calm; her mind is a beacon in the chaos of the rest of the crew. “It’s Starfleet, sir.”
“Patch it through to this terminal, please,” I instruct her. She nods, and a moment later Admiral Haggins face replaces Uhura’s.
“Admiral Haggins, good afternoon,” I say. “Commander McCoy is with me…do you wish to speak alone?”
Haggins shakes his head. “No, there’s no need for that. You’re going to have to pass this to the rest of your senior officers, anyway. Admiral Kirk has been captured. We don’t know by whom, but they’ve taken responsibility for it before you even contacted us. They sent us evidence, and it appears legitimate, I’m afraid. They say they won’t harm him, but they haven’t given us any sort of ultimatum. We’re stumped on this side, Commander.”
I am silent for a few moments, but on McCoy’s boot meeting my shin bone, I try to form a coherent sentence. “We…will help you in any way we can, Admiral.”
Haggins sighs. “I know…unfortunately, the best thing you can do to help is let us handle the search for Admiral Kirk, and help us out on another front.”
This I am unable to form a reply to. McCoy appears as astounded as I. I share a glance with him over the computer screen, then return my gaze to Haggins. I try ‘The Look,’ as Jim calls it, on Haggins. “What would that be, Admiral?”
I forget that this man is an Admiral, and did not get there by being intimidated. ‘The Look’ appears to have failed. “The talks with the Romulans seem to have fallen through. The delegation left with their feathers all ruffled this morning, and we’ve been getting messages from Intelligence all day, saying the Romulans appear to be grouping and getting resources ready for an attack.”
Part of my mind want to upend the computer terminal, throw it across the room, and ask Haggins what he’s thinking. Admiral Kirk is this ship’s commander, how can he expect the Enterprise to function well without him-
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one, I remind myself as I take a calming breath. You’re not abandoning him, Starfleet can handle this, you’re needed elsewhere…
“Over a bad morning of diplomacy,” I question. “That hardly seems Romulan.”
“No, our experts agree…it’s accepted now that the talks were only a ploy. They seem to have been planning this for quite some time; Intelligence says the plan’s the most organized they’ve seen the Romulans in years.”
The most organized they’ve seen the Romulans in years, I repeat to myself. They found a common battle cry. It was the only explanation. But what was it?
“What does this have to do with the Enterprise?”
Haggins leaned forward in his chair. “I need to you take command of the Enterprise and take her to the sector before the Romulan Neutral Zone. If they sneeze, they’d damn well better have a handkerchief. I’m sending Supremacy, Atlantis, and Prometheus with you. The Romulans will think twice with that many ships guarding. I want you to start out right away, your communications officer has the formal orders.”
I nod, unable to say anything. Upon another kick from McCoy, I add, “Understood, Admiral.”
“Good. Haggins out.”
The screen blacked out, then was replaced with the Starfleet delta. For five minutes, McCoy and I sat in silence. It was only broken by a summons for me to come to the bridge. I say nothing as I stand and make toward the doorway of his office. I turn back to look at him, and his eyes are lost in the depths of space outside his window.
Closing my eyes, I realize I must leave. While McCoy’s office may be a place of refuge…there is work to be done.
1524
“Give Spock a break,” McCoy was shouting in order to be heard above the disdain rumbling through the small conference room where senior officers had gathered. “He doesn’t want to do this any more than the rest of us.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I reply, half sincere and although I would never admit it, half hurt. Having McCoy defend me is a start, but I do not want to appear completely dependant upon him. “As the Doctor was saying, I do not care for these orders, either. The fact remains that the Romulans appear to be massing for war. To Starfleet, Admiral Kirk is one man. They are pursuing him, as we would be, but they have directed us to another task. They have reason to believe it is the Romulans behind this, and they are much better equipped for a retrieval mission than the Enterprise. I daresay we would be noticed in Romulan space. Because of this fact, we will remain quite visible to the Romulans as a warning on our side of the Neutral Zone. Are there any questions?”
Scott looked as if he was about to bring up some point or another, but thankfully he remained silent and slouched further down into his seat.
I see the situation is at peace for the moment, but the potential for more debate could arise at any moment. As Jim would phrase it, I decide to 'quit while I am ahead.'
“Then you are dismissed.”
I remain seated, and everyone except for McCoy files out the door.
McCoy stands up feverously the moment the doors close. “You didn’t have to be so damned sarcastic, I was only trying to help.”
“And you are one to talk on being too sarcastic,” I shoot back, instantly regretting my words. Silence falls thick between the two of us. I keep my head forward, not looking at him. “I did not want to appear as if I was dependant on you.”
“Sure you’re not Jim?” he jabs, and I can see his smile out of the corner of my eye. He moves from his chair at the lower end of the table to sit at my right. “I’ll try to remember not to help so much.”
“Publicly,” I add. “I could do well with your advice.”
“Yeah, you could,” he replies, his grin still frozen on his face. “Spock…Jim will make it through. He always does. The best thing you can do for him now is to grab the bull by the horns and make him see why he reinstated you.”
I turn my head to look at him. “I was not aware he had reason to doubt.”
McCoy frowned. “He didn’t…Spock, you’re missing the point.”
I allow myself a small smile. Over the years, I have learned to relax around McCoy (and Kirk), if only a small amount. “If he is in the hands of the Romulans-”
“Don’t think about that,” he cuts me off before I barely finish the word ‘Romulans.’ “Just focus on your duty here, now. One step at a time.”
I nod. One step at a time.
2054
Acting Captain’s Personal Log
We have reached Starbase 57, and all nonessential personnel have left the Enterprise and will remain at the starbase until this conflict is over. The ship is proceeding to the Romulan Neutral Zone. Estimated time is one day, 10 hours, and 38 minutes. The crew has reluctantly accepted my position as acting captain. After the first five year mission on the Enterprise and the past few years, I became a part of that crew. When this new mission started, I did not integrate myself with them as much as I should have. I believe this is the reason they are so reluctant at my command of this vessel.
But that is in the past. The only thing in my control now is to get them to get them to function for me the same way they would if Kirk were here. That will be a challenge. I have the (grudging) support of the senior officers, and McCoy seems to be the only one fully behind me.
I know I should not-cannot-focus on this. It will only be counterproductive to my purpose. I cannot shut it out completely, however. What is the difference between Kirk and myself? What does he have that makes his soldiers follow him, even to the death? What do I lack?
Perhaps this experience will teach me…if I survive it.
End Log
End of Chapter 1
Summary: This piece depicts the 100 days of a near-war between the Federation and the Romulans. One hundred days, one hundred chapters. AU, since no conflict ever happened in canon. Set during the second five-year mission, circa 2272, or the year after Star Trek: The Motion Picture.
Rating: PG-13/T. No slash, ever, I promise.
Hundred Days
0827
He should be here by now, I think. Jim would have made contact with me. I am his first officer. I am his friend.
“Commander Spock,” a lieutenant called as he quickly approached me. “Commander, we can’t find any sign of him in his room.”
While I may be unaccustomed to the human prospect of “humor,” I know for a fact that if this is Jim attempting to “play a joke” on me, I do not find it humorous at all. Another thought crosses my mind for Jim’s absence.
“Perhaps he is with…a female acquaintance,” I phrase carefully. The young lieutenant blushes, and I quickly stride off, not wanting to embarrass the man any further.
I allow my mind and body to wander, and I find myself in Jim’s hotel room. This was only supposed to be a simple shore leave on Rigel before the crew got under way again. Jim of all people understood how a starship needed to stay on schedule. This was uncharacteristic of him-he wouldn’t be late to the Enterprise for any woman in the galaxy.
Why this time?
I walk around the room three times, finding no evidence of a struggle-friendly or otherwise. All his personal effects are in their proper place and accounted for, except for what he was wearing. I collect everything, and return to the rendezvous point.
“We have no choice but to return to the Enterprise and wait for him,” I say. “Contact the Enterprise for beam out.”
A few of the men exchange glances which I cannot interpret. They appear surprised, but that is as close as I can come.
“Aye, sir,” one finally says as he withdraws a communicator.
I take one last look around the planet. The last thought I have before I dissolve in the effect of the transporter is a human axiom that I have never completely understood until this moment:
It is going to be a long day.
The moment I rematerialized in the transporter room, I quickly wished (illogically) I was back on the planet. Doctor McCoy stood next to the transporter console, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, and a scowl upon his face.
“Where the hell is Jim?”
Resisting the urge to sigh, I gather my suitcase as well as Jim’s and step off the platform. McCoy walks forward to meet me, and when we do meet I unceremoniously hand McCoy Jim’s bag. “I believe the correct answer here is, ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’”
“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that for Starfleet,” McCoy growls as he grabs the proffered bag.
“I do not see why,” I reply. “We are waiting for him. He will no doubt become aware he is more than half an hour late for the rendezvous, and I also left a message for him at the desk. He is quite resourceful, Doctor, I have no doubt Admiral Kirk will be rejoining us shortly. If you will excuse me?”
I do not wait for his reply, but stride past him and out the doors of the transporter room. I am convinced that McCoy's reaction is, as usual, extreme. The bridge crew has a more professional handling of any crisis situation and I expect to find calm. Instead, I am greeted with an eruption of questions and comments as to Kirk's absence and my command.
When I raise my eyebrow, all conversation ceases. Jim once told me my eyebrow fulfills the purpose of facial expression in humans. Even after events such as these, however, I believe he is disillusioned in his belief. Nevertheless, I am undeniably thankful they are silent.
“To answer your questions: no, I do not know where Admiral Kirk is. No, I do not intend to leave him there, although I assure you the admiral would no doubt find numerous activities to occupy himself.”
A wave of barely restrained laughter ripples across the bridge, and it appears if they really do believe nothing is wrong. Reassured I am not going to usurp Kirk’s throne, they return to their duties.
I glance at his empty chair and then back to the viewscreen. Perhaps the bridge crew is reassured…but I am not.
0913
When the 45 minute mark ticked by, I checked the communications equipment onboard. I doubled the scanning power of the Enterprise to pick up any kind of transmission from the planet. When the hour mark slipped away into the past, I knew something was beyond wrong. I went into Kirk’s office, instructed Uhura to open a secure channel to Starfleet, and told them the situation.
They were equally concerned as I was, perhaps even more. They passed the information along, and I ended the transmission and waited.
I decide to pay Dr. McCoy a visit. He looks up from a desk in Sickbay proper, then nods toward his office. I walk in with McCoy behind me. He shuts and locks the door.
“You contact Starfleet yet,” he asks.
I nod solemnly. “Yes. They appeared very concerned. I cannot help but think we are not privy to all components of the equation.”
“Knowing Starfleet? Probably not, no,” he sighs and sits down at the desk there, ushering me to do the same. I slowly take a seat. “What do you think?”
“If he has been abducted, it did not take place in his hotel,” I say after a moment’s contemplation. “In fact, it did not appear as if he had been there since he unpacked.”
“What did the security say at the hotel?”
My eyes narrow. “They are typical private security-untrained, and unwatchful.”
McCoy sighed. “Damn. Were they any help at all?”
I shake my head. “Not to me. I have no doubt that Starfleet will be visiting them, with more…incentives.”
McCoy chuckles sardonically. “One hand washes the other, I guess.”
“Perhaps it will work to our benefit,” I ponder aloud. McCoy only shrugs.
I look at the chrono above McCoy’s head and stand. “I have been gone long enough. I will contact you if I find out anything else.”
“Mm-hmm,” he says absentmindedly.
As I return to the bridge, I make note of the time again. 0920. “Anything?”
Uhura shakes her head, and we continue to wait.
1205
I am sharing a hurried lunch with Doctor McCoy in his office (“I’ve got too much paperwork, let’s just stay here,” was his reason. I think he is worried to leave a computer through which we can receive Starfleet’s communications) when Uhura sends out an all-ship page.
“Commander Spock, please contact the bridge.”
McCoy and I stop eating immediately, although neither of us appears to have much of an appetite, and McCoy punches the bridge code.
“Commander Uhura, this is Spock. What is it?”
Uhura’s voice is one of calm; her mind is a beacon in the chaos of the rest of the crew. “It’s Starfleet, sir.”
“Patch it through to this terminal, please,” I instruct her. She nods, and a moment later Admiral Haggins face replaces Uhura’s.
“Admiral Haggins, good afternoon,” I say. “Commander McCoy is with me…do you wish to speak alone?”
Haggins shakes his head. “No, there’s no need for that. You’re going to have to pass this to the rest of your senior officers, anyway. Admiral Kirk has been captured. We don’t know by whom, but they’ve taken responsibility for it before you even contacted us. They sent us evidence, and it appears legitimate, I’m afraid. They say they won’t harm him, but they haven’t given us any sort of ultimatum. We’re stumped on this side, Commander.”
I am silent for a few moments, but on McCoy’s boot meeting my shin bone, I try to form a coherent sentence. “We…will help you in any way we can, Admiral.”
Haggins sighs. “I know…unfortunately, the best thing you can do to help is let us handle the search for Admiral Kirk, and help us out on another front.”
This I am unable to form a reply to. McCoy appears as astounded as I. I share a glance with him over the computer screen, then return my gaze to Haggins. I try ‘The Look,’ as Jim calls it, on Haggins. “What would that be, Admiral?”
I forget that this man is an Admiral, and did not get there by being intimidated. ‘The Look’ appears to have failed. “The talks with the Romulans seem to have fallen through. The delegation left with their feathers all ruffled this morning, and we’ve been getting messages from Intelligence all day, saying the Romulans appear to be grouping and getting resources ready for an attack.”
Part of my mind want to upend the computer terminal, throw it across the room, and ask Haggins what he’s thinking. Admiral Kirk is this ship’s commander, how can he expect the Enterprise to function well without him-
The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one, I remind myself as I take a calming breath. You’re not abandoning him, Starfleet can handle this, you’re needed elsewhere…
“Over a bad morning of diplomacy,” I question. “That hardly seems Romulan.”
“No, our experts agree…it’s accepted now that the talks were only a ploy. They seem to have been planning this for quite some time; Intelligence says the plan’s the most organized they’ve seen the Romulans in years.”
The most organized they’ve seen the Romulans in years, I repeat to myself. They found a common battle cry. It was the only explanation. But what was it?
“What does this have to do with the Enterprise?”
Haggins leaned forward in his chair. “I need to you take command of the Enterprise and take her to the sector before the Romulan Neutral Zone. If they sneeze, they’d damn well better have a handkerchief. I’m sending Supremacy, Atlantis, and Prometheus with you. The Romulans will think twice with that many ships guarding. I want you to start out right away, your communications officer has the formal orders.”
I nod, unable to say anything. Upon another kick from McCoy, I add, “Understood, Admiral.”
“Good. Haggins out.”
The screen blacked out, then was replaced with the Starfleet delta. For five minutes, McCoy and I sat in silence. It was only broken by a summons for me to come to the bridge. I say nothing as I stand and make toward the doorway of his office. I turn back to look at him, and his eyes are lost in the depths of space outside his window.
Closing my eyes, I realize I must leave. While McCoy’s office may be a place of refuge…there is work to be done.
1524
“Give Spock a break,” McCoy was shouting in order to be heard above the disdain rumbling through the small conference room where senior officers had gathered. “He doesn’t want to do this any more than the rest of us.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I reply, half sincere and although I would never admit it, half hurt. Having McCoy defend me is a start, but I do not want to appear completely dependant upon him. “As the Doctor was saying, I do not care for these orders, either. The fact remains that the Romulans appear to be massing for war. To Starfleet, Admiral Kirk is one man. They are pursuing him, as we would be, but they have directed us to another task. They have reason to believe it is the Romulans behind this, and they are much better equipped for a retrieval mission than the Enterprise. I daresay we would be noticed in Romulan space. Because of this fact, we will remain quite visible to the Romulans as a warning on our side of the Neutral Zone. Are there any questions?”
Scott looked as if he was about to bring up some point or another, but thankfully he remained silent and slouched further down into his seat.
I see the situation is at peace for the moment, but the potential for more debate could arise at any moment. As Jim would phrase it, I decide to 'quit while I am ahead.'
“Then you are dismissed.”
I remain seated, and everyone except for McCoy files out the door.
McCoy stands up feverously the moment the doors close. “You didn’t have to be so damned sarcastic, I was only trying to help.”
“And you are one to talk on being too sarcastic,” I shoot back, instantly regretting my words. Silence falls thick between the two of us. I keep my head forward, not looking at him. “I did not want to appear as if I was dependant on you.”
“Sure you’re not Jim?” he jabs, and I can see his smile out of the corner of my eye. He moves from his chair at the lower end of the table to sit at my right. “I’ll try to remember not to help so much.”
“Publicly,” I add. “I could do well with your advice.”
“Yeah, you could,” he replies, his grin still frozen on his face. “Spock…Jim will make it through. He always does. The best thing you can do for him now is to grab the bull by the horns and make him see why he reinstated you.”
I turn my head to look at him. “I was not aware he had reason to doubt.”
McCoy frowned. “He didn’t…Spock, you’re missing the point.”
I allow myself a small smile. Over the years, I have learned to relax around McCoy (and Kirk), if only a small amount. “If he is in the hands of the Romulans-”
“Don’t think about that,” he cuts me off before I barely finish the word ‘Romulans.’ “Just focus on your duty here, now. One step at a time.”
I nod. One step at a time.
2054
Acting Captain’s Personal Log
We have reached Starbase 57, and all nonessential personnel have left the Enterprise and will remain at the starbase until this conflict is over. The ship is proceeding to the Romulan Neutral Zone. Estimated time is one day, 10 hours, and 38 minutes. The crew has reluctantly accepted my position as acting captain. After the first five year mission on the Enterprise and the past few years, I became a part of that crew. When this new mission started, I did not integrate myself with them as much as I should have. I believe this is the reason they are so reluctant at my command of this vessel.
But that is in the past. The only thing in my control now is to get them to get them to function for me the same way they would if Kirk were here. That will be a challenge. I have the (grudging) support of the senior officers, and McCoy seems to be the only one fully behind me.
I know I should not-cannot-focus on this. It will only be counterproductive to my purpose. I cannot shut it out completely, however. What is the difference between Kirk and myself? What does he have that makes his soldiers follow him, even to the death? What do I lack?
Perhaps this experience will teach me…if I survive it.
End Log
End of Chapter 1