Alone in the Light, Part 12
Title: Alone in the Light, Part 12
Author:
j_green_teeth
Universe/Series: reboot
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 6532 of ~41,000
Warnings: Minor/OC Character Death, discussion of Suicide (highlight to view complete warnings)
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, implied Scotty/Uhura, OC/OC, ensemble, Many OCs
"Hey, Scotty, did you ever figure out what was going on with the transporters?" Jim spoke to Scotty’s back as his front was buried in an access panel.
Scotty hauled himself out and popped the panel back on. "Not yet. I know the rogue code is there but I don't know what triggered it."
"I've got an insane idea."
Scotty started to smile. "That's what I like to hear, lad."
"Is it possible to set a transporter up to duplicate a pattern?"
Scotty chewed his lip. "You'd need a hell of a lot of space to store it."
Jim wondered aloud. "What about duplicating it so that it materializes in two places at the same time?"
"It would take a fair bit of power to do that. And whatever algorithm you use to transcode the pattern would have to be quick enough to integrate both patterns without electron drift."
"But is it possible?" Jim was starting to get excited.
Scotty gave him an amused look. "Since when have we worried about that?"
Jim started to grin. “So what would you say if I told you an orange had showed up a couple weeks ago apparently out of no where?”
“I can have those micro transporters set up in three minutes.” Scotty frowned. “Er...nothing else has shown up, has it?”
Jim had learned with Scotty that sometimes you just didn’t ask. “Not that I’ve heard.”
“Good, good. Come on, let’s get those wee transporters set up and see what we can find.”
The three of them headed towards Scotty’s lab. Someone most have cleaned up recently because all of Scotty’s tinkering had been corralled into large boxes, each secured in a shelving unit. A bumpy ride would have hopelessly jumbled any components left on the wide work bench itself bolted to the floor. Scotty took out one of the boxes and started pulling out pieces.
“This seems like an ill-advised experiment,” said Spock.
“The worst that can happen is we waste an hour or two playing around.” Jim tried to reassure him.
“A outcome supporting your hypothesis of duplication would potentially be disastrous. I can think of ninety-two distinct places that, were they integrated with an orange, would cause significant impairment of their function.”
Jim leaned towards Scotty. “You got a mini shield to go with those mini transporters?”
“Of course, Keenser designed one years ago.”
He leaned back. “Happy, Spock?”
Spock nodded. They got the portable shield and transporters assembled on the workbench. Scotty found a cracked piece of water coil as big as his hand and set it on the first pad. The shield zinged to life after a few pokes to the control pad. They waited expectantly as Scotty keyed in the transport sequence and kicked it off. The coil flicked out of existence and a fraction of a second later flickered into existence on the other pad. The shield didn’t so much as twitch. Jim sighed.
Scotty frowned down at the control. “It worked exactly like it was supposed to.”
“Perhaps there is a missing variable. As you said, there were no reports of any of the other objects used in the demonstration materializing in unexpected locations.” Spock offered.
“So what else was happening when Scotty was transporting the orange?” All Jim could remember was staring at Spock wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
“A PADD alarm went off one-point-two seconds before transport was initiated and continued for another five-point-seven seconds.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jim nodded.
Scotty cheerfully said. “It’s worth a try.”
Quickly they reset the experiment, adding a PADD with its alarm ringing on the table. They retreated a few steps as the shield activated. Scotty hit the button and they all watched as the coil flickered and disappeared from the first pad then started to materialize on the second. Jim held his breath. The beam shivered and the shield sparkled then fizzed. On the second pad was a mangled water coil and embedded in the table was another smoking coil. They all shared a moment of wordless glee.
Spock came back to his senses fastest. “Was the orange reported to be in good condition when it was found?”
“Ensign Daws didn’t mention pulp all over her panties.” Spock gave him a flat look. “So I’m guessing it materialized fine.”
“Probably reflecting off the shield that did it in.” Scotty explained.
Spock continued the thought. “So we must assume that under ideal conditions something-”
Jim cut in, “Or someone...”
“...could have survived intact.” Spock paused. “You believe Ensign Swanson was subject to this mechanism.”
Jim nodded. “And if we haven't found him in the twenty-four days since he beamed up from Kumba 6-4, we can assume he doesn't want to be found.”
Scotty, whose eyes had been bouncing between them during this exchange mumbled, “That’s unbelievable.”
“I think there is a good chance he’s involved in what’s been happening. We need to figure out where that transporter algorithm sends things. So we need to run a few simulations.” Jim's mind was racing.
“Given the underlying code we could use probabilistic modeling to predict the likely vector and velocity coefficients to any-”
Scotty broke in, “Nah, the data you need to generate a reasonable test set is enormous. It would work better to start with a specific set of variables and get a beginning data set that way.”
“There is no reason to infer that the problem space is simple enough to get relevant metrics from a limit set of comparison.” Spock turned to face Scotty.
Jim stepped away from their debate and pulled out the communicator Spock insisted he carry. “Kirk to Uhura.”
“Uhura here, Captain.”
“I need you to go over some of the transmissions from the Kumba 6-4 mission.”
“Sir?” Her surprise filtered through the comm.
“See if you can find anything strange in the transmission when Ensign Swanson was beaming up.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Oh, and could you send Chekov down here? I think we’re about to bust out some serious math.”
“I thought Spock was helping you?”
Jim held the communicator out to clearly catch the sounds of Scotty and Spock loudly discussing the most efficient way to build the simulation. When he turned it back Uhura sighed. “I guess I’m eating alone today.”
Jim grinned. “I wouldn’t say no if you stopped by with some sandwiches.”
“Tell it to your yeoman.” He imagined he could hear her rolling her eyes.
“Right. Kirk out.”
Jim rubbed his hands together and dived into conversation with Spock and Scotty.
Chekov joined them before they could come to an agreement on exactly how to figure out where the second transporter beam went. Eventually they decided to try to use the mini transporters to identify the boundary conditions while Spock and Chekov would work on a way to integrate the input from the full scale transporters. Jim hacked the PADD alarm to bleat at different frequencies. He and Scotty spent a couple of happy hours smashing bits of junk against the shield.
Uhura showed up two-and-a-half hours in with a handheld audio unit and Yeoman Rand in tow with lunch. Spock and Chekov came out of the corner where they had been working, heads bent together over the data terminal. Rand was dismissed after the food was laid out. They pulled an assortment of stools, chairs and boxes around the workbench to eat.
Uhura explained what she had found while the four of them munched. “So I focused on the last transmission from Kumba 6-4 like you asked.” She played the audio. “First thing I did was remove the voices, which gives us this.” She played the modified file. “Take out the dinosaur noises and this is the result.”
Spock tilted his head as the recording played. “That is not ambient noise.”
“No, it’s not. I cleaned up as much of the background as I can. Based on the lack of sound variance, I’d say that this sound was coming from the communicator.”
“The communicator?” Chekov wondered.
“Yes, I checked the other transmissions from Kumba 6-4 and it doesn’t appear in any of them. I also asked Ensign Himshe to check for similar sounds on the last five away missions.”
“You rock.”
“Why, thank you, Captain.”
“Let’s see what this sound does,” Scotty said, popping the last of his sandwich in his mouth.
What it did was send the burnt-out panel glass in a completely opposite direction from the other junk. Spock and Chekov had an intense exchange in Russian before Spock looked up and said, “We are ninety-six-point-one percent certain that all the transporter safety protocols are being applied to the version not directed to the pad. Hence the consistent destruction of the ones on the pad without the shield the other transporter beam will materialize safely. Furthermore, we have narrowed the area of transport down to thirty meters, based on the starting point of the primary transporter room.”
“Well?” Jim beckoned Spock to give him the location.
“Engineering deck L, M or N between walkways 85 and 95 and phi and upsilon.”
Jim pulled up his mental map of the Enterprise. “Lieutenant Commander Vick died between main Engineering and that area.” Spock nodded. “Come on, let’s get some security and do a bit of reconnaissance.”
Spock insisted on rounding up several security officers before they went to investigate. Jim was pretty sure Swanson wouldn’t have hung around a place that he could potentially be traced to. They started on deck L and did a sweep of each corridor. They were almost finished with M when something caught Scotty’s eye. One of the floor-level panels had been inexpertly removed, judging by the faint scratches. After scanning it six ways from Sunday for booby traps, Scotty popped the panel off. Everything looked normal to Jim but Scotty was quick to point out the missing cable cord from the twist of power wires. To keep everything neat a cord was placed around the cables at every juncture. Any engineer working with the cables would have replaced the cord when they were done. The only reason someone would have removed the cord was if they needed to pull the cable out to power some device in the corridor. Jim ordered security to finish searching to be thorough, but he had his answer. Ensign Swanson was somewhere on the ship.
They retreated back to Scotty’s lab to figure out what to do next. “So, gentlemen and lady. How do we find him?” Jim asked the group.
“Internal ship sensors aren’t designed for that kind of scan. The external scanners are, but not on such a small scale,” Chekov offered.
“Even if the internal sensors were suitable for the task they do not cover enough of the ship to be useful,” Spock continued.
“We might be able to rig handheld units to pick up on a person’s heartbeat. They would need to have a huge range of sensitivity and be able to filter out the ambient ship noise,” Uhura suggested.
“That would register anyone in the immediate area,” said Spock.
Jim nodded. “We’ll give our people transmitters. One each, broadcasting a specific code. Then we can build a real-time map of where everyone is. We set up audio checkpoints in major areas and if a heartbeat without a matching transmitter shows up we check it out. Then we can have search teams with audio scanners too, doing the same thing.”
Scotty looked over at him. “Just so we’re clear you want us to build a hand held unit that can pick up a heartbeat at a useful distance, say twenty meters. And that can separate it from the rest of the noise around here. Then produce almost four hundred transmitters. And write a program that will mash that data together.”
“Yep.” Jim nodded decisively.
“Give me three days. I love a challenge.” Scotty rubbed his hands together.
Jim told him, “You have until tomorrow.”
Scotty chuckled and Jim grinned. It felt so good to be moving again after spending so much time thrashing over the files. “Scotty, Chekov, work on the handhelds; oh, and find some engineers to put together the transmitters. Those are simple enough. Uhura, I want you to find Bones and the two of you to figure out how to identify heartbeats. Spock, you’re with me putting together the mapping program.”
Jim waited a beat for Spock to object. The program was the simplest part of the whole plan. It probably wouldn’t take either of them more than four hours to do. Spock just nodded and went to the terminal. Together it only took them two-and-a-half hours to get it done. Jim briefly fantasized about working on a bigger project with Spock. Who knew what they could create together?
Jim checked in briefly with Uhura and Bones. If he interpreted their quick, half-formed sentences correctly, they were making progress and would let him know when they had a prototype. Spock joined Scotty and Chekov over the guts of a heavy duty recorder unit. It looked like they were recalibrating the artificial membranes and adding several more than normal. Jim decided to join Keenser, who was seated on the floor assembling transmitter after transmitter. He already had a pile of fifty or so of the pin-sized devices in front of him. After another two hours Jim asked Yeoman Rand to bring another meal. She delivered it, along with a stack of paperwork, implying that the ship would fall out of the sky if he didn’t complete it in the next twelve hours. He set to it.
An hour after that Uhura and Bones appeared bearing an audio filter that they thought would do the trick. Then it was still awhile until the audio sensor prototype was all put together. It reminded Jim of the ray guns from 'Billy Bob’s Great Space Odyssey'. There was a handle which had a frame that had twelve disks. The largest was probably thirty centimeters across. In front of it was a smaller one, then another smaller one until the last one, the tip of the cone, was only a centimeter across. A cord came down to a modified tricorder which would process the sounds with the new filter.
As usual, when there wasn’t certain death awaiting them in the next five minutes, the first try didn’t go well. Jim drifted back to his paperwork after it was clear it wouldn’t be a quick and easy bug to squash. He must have nodded off somewhere around the reviews of the mess’ upcoming efficiency estimates, because the next thing he knew someone was shaking his shoulder. “Captain.”
He cracked an eye open. Judging by the blue sleeve and hot hand... “Hey, Spock. How’s it going?”
“We believe the sensors, transmitters and tracking program are all working within acceptable parameters.”
He shook himself, trying to wake up the rest of the way. “Great. What time is it?”
“0600.”
“Wow.” He rubbed his face. “Scotty, it’s working?”
“Aye, it is.”
“Good work, everyone. Get some sleep. I’ll start organizing search parties.”
Bones poked Chekov until he slid off his stool and wandered towards the door yawning. Scotty roused a sleeping Uhura more gently and they left with their arms around each others' waists. Keenser must have left sometime earlier. Spock stood calmly, next to the five sensors they had created during the night.
“That goes for you, too, Spock.”
Spock blinked serenely at him. “I do not require sleep at this time.”
“You sure?” Jim was still trying to wake up but Spock still looked fresh after a night of working.
“Positive, Captain.”
He stood up and did a full body stretch trying to convince his muscles moving was a good idea. “Okay. Let’s get this show on the road.”
They rounded up as many security officers and crew members with combat experience as they could find and explained the plan. The transmitters had been dropped off at Communications with orders to do word-of-mouth disbursement. Since it would take a while for every crew member to receive one. Jim decided to start their search in Engineering where there were fewer crew members per square meter, and which Swanson had already shown a fondness for.
Each search team was equipped with a scanner, a communicator and phasers. There was a good chance Swanson was armed. It took a little wrangling but Jim managed to get Spock on a separate search team. He needed team leaders he could trust to do things right. Jim's team was himself, Lieutenant Finn and Petty Officers Rothschild and Obedallah. They were assigned deck Q to search. All of the engineers starting alpha shift were given a transmitter before the search parties set out.
Petty Officer Rothschild took the lead once they descended to deck Q. The idea was that they would start at the low-numbered corridors and work their way towards the higher numbers. It wasn’t perfect but they would take advantage of the multidirectional nature of the scanner and multiple search parties. Each person wielding the scanner would scan the complete hemisphere giving them a reading including the deck above and the deck below. Each party was starting in a different place and walking a different way. Jim's team was starting at the fore. Spock’s team on the deck below would start on the starboard side and work upwards through the Greek alphabet. The team below his would start at the aft and work down the corridors from high numbers to low and so on with the group below them. It would be hard, but not impossible, to avoid all the search teams that way. Jim had scrambled to get everyone ready quickly. The sooner they started the less likely Swanson was to hear about the search and the more likely they were to catch him.
Jim's team were only two corridors in when the scanner started to blip quietly. Jim, Finn and Obedallah drew their phasers while Rothschild hung back with the scanner. They crept up on the cul-de-sac that was making the scanner blip a steady tone. He nodded to the others then turned the corner, phaser ready. The small gray-and-white cat that had chosen that particular piece of floor to sleep on blinked a lazy eye at him. Jim sighed. Obviously there was still work to do to get the scanner to only pick up on humans. They couldn’t leave it here. It might start running around and set off false positives all over the place. The cat must have decided it didn’t like the look of him because when he walked towards it it sprang to its feet, neatly avoided his grab for it by diving between his legs and was off like a shot. Lieutenant Finn made a lunge for it as it streaked passed. Obedallah let it go by him before raising his phaser and shooting. The shot went wide but the cat stumbled to a halt and collapsed on its side.
Jim gave Obedallah a sideways look.
He smiled. “We had troublemaker cats on the Royale, sir. I learned pretty quick how close you need to hit with a human graded phaser to stun the pests.”
“Thanks, Petty Officer. Take that little guy up to main Engineering. Either tag him with a transmitter or get someone to keep him until we’re finished down here.”
Obedallah tucked the stunned cat into his arms and walked away.
“Okay. Let’s get back to searching.” Jim told Finn and Rothschild.
They had made it almost a quarter of the way across the deck before the scanner started to blip again, more intensely this time. It pointed them towards one of the auxiliary control rooms. Jim and Finn positioned themselves on either side of the door, once again with phasers at the ready. Jim palmed the entry panel and the door hissed open. Jim and Finn swung forward, pointing their phasers at two crewmen that until a second ago had probably been very aroused. Mortified was probably a more accurate word now. Jim looked long enough to verify that neither was Swanson then barked, “You’ve got sixty seconds to make yourselves presentable,” before palming the door shut. Finn had turned red and was biting his lip and avoiding eye contact. When Jim judged the awkward silence had lasted more than a minute he opened the door again to a shame faced and silent Ensign Sun and an extremely apologetic Chief Petty Officer Howell. He cut her off. “At the moment I don’t have time to give you two a lecture on appropriate places for personal activities.” Sun’s shoulders relaxed. “Expect one from Commander Spock in the near future.” Sun winced and Howell’s red face started to fade to white. “For the moment, complete your work here and report to main Engineering for further instructions.”
Sun offered hopefully. “Umm... neither of us are on duty, sir.”
He waved them away. “Then report to main Engineering now. They’ll explain what’s going on.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
They ducked passed him and started briskly -very briskly- away from the search party. Jim snorted. He was sure tomorrow that little encounter would seem absolutely hilarious.
They set off again, slowly working their way back and forth across Q deck. It was another five passes before the scanner began to blip again. They stopped at an intersection to try to get a fix on this new signal. As they stood the blipping became faster; whoever it was was moving towards them. Jim hastily motioned Finn around one corner while he and Rothschild ducked around the other way. After a few seconds came the quiet sound of footsteps. They weren’t going fast or slow. Whoever it was was going somewhere but they weren’t in a rush to get there.
Petty Officer Rothschild fumbled with the scanner, making a shushing sound as it slid against his uniform sleeve. The footsteps stopped. Jim thought, ‘Ah, fuck it,’ and wheeled around the corner. Too late. Ensign Able Swanson was already ducking low and charging. His shoulder jammed into Jim's gut, winding him. Swanson continued his charge on a diagonal past a gawping Finn. Finn turned to track Swanson.
Jim bellowed, “Stun him!” Finn’s hand twitched convulsively around his phaser. The wild shot sparked and dissipated ineffectually along the wall. Jim pushed past the unresponsive Finn to chase after Swanson. He pulled out his communicator as he ran. Still winded from the blow to the stomach he panted out, “Found hm. He’s running up corridor sixteen.” There was a jumbled series of acknowledgments. Dimly he heard two sets of running feet behind him. Swanson swerved.
Rothschild called out, “He’s turning!”
Jim echoed it. “He’s turning down Mu.” Again a jumbled response that the other teams were closing on their position. The red-shirt in front of them made another sharp turn. “He’s going down seventeen now.” Swanson tried to throw them off by going around in a large loop between seventeen and fourteen. They managed to keep up with him, barely. They were all panting and red faced after sprinting for five solid minutes. Swanson came out of his circle at fifteen, where he flung himself up the metal stairs to deck P.
“Damn it,” Jim breathed. The stairs shook as the three of them pounded up. They reached the landing just in time to see him duck around one of the massive turbines. P deck had five story high ceilings to accommodate the large equipment. It was going to make Swanson hard to catch since he could hide behind machinery as big as buildings. They turned the corner and Jim literally skidded a foot trying to stop. Swanson had stopped and while gulping for air he was holding a phaser menacingly towards the busily blinking computer bank behind him. Jim desperately tried to remember what this particular section did. They all stood for several seconds, breathing heavily. He could sense that Finn and Rothschild had come to flank him. Finn’s quiet, “Shit,” was almost drowned out by their breathing and the ambient noise. It validated Jim's suspicion that Swanson was in a position to fuck their shit up.
Swanson, still swallowing heavily, waved the phaser from side to side. “If you don’t know what this is, it’s part of the navigation system. It’s the part that does all the warp calculations.”
Jim grasped at that. “Machinery isn’t affected by phaser fire.”
Swanson rolled his eyes. “Like you don’t know that they’ve been using bionetics for years in that circuitry. One good blast and the warp bubble goes poof.”
A hasty clatter signaled the arrival of another of the search parties. Spock didn’t look at all winded from what must have been a mad dash up here. He did look pissed. Not like he was going to fly into a wild rage but like Swanson had just removed himself from the category of those things worthy of life. Jim shivered.
As Spock stepped up beside Jim he spoke in a voice so carefully controlled it might as well have been a computer. “You are acting illogically. A persistent habit of your race.”
“Oh. Yeah?” Swanson sneered.
“Oh, as you say, yeah. We are many. You are one.” Spock's diction was razor sharp, conveying his annoyance more thoroughly than shouting.
Swanson had his eyes on them but his phaser was still firmly point at the computer. “One good blast to this-”
“And you will die just like every other individual on this ship.”
“Yep.” Swanson agreed manically.
“We merely have to wait. You have nowhere to go. You are surrounded.” Two more of the search teams had arrived. “And eventually you will fall asleep or pass out from exhaustion.” Spock continued.
Swanson's smile grew. “That’s why I’ve rigged this with a dead man’s switch. The second my finger comes off this trigger...boom.”
Jim stepped in. This wasn’t getting them anywhere. “What do you want, Able? If it was us dead you’d have already fired.”
“Ha. The great Captain comes begging.” A flicker of silver rapidly descending caught Jim's eye. Swanson continued, “What I want...” He trailed off as he noticed Jim's attention had shifted. He looked up just in time to catch a wrench in his face. He crumpled. His phaser tumbled out of loose fingers. Jim hit the deck with a hundred pounds of Vulcan on top of him, as the phaser sprayed out a wide area blast of energy. He watched in horror as its butt hit the ground and bounced, then fell towards Swanson and the computer bank.
Thoughts flashed across his mind. 'We’re all going to die' lead to 'what the hell'. He gripped Spock’s face and turned it to plant a closed-mouthed kiss square on his lips. Spock didn’t pull away. Nor did he respond as Jim counted off the seconds of contact in his head. Two, three, four, five. Shouldn’t they be dead by now? He moved his eyes then his head. The phaser was still discharging in stuttering bursts on the floor. There was no way the beam could have missed the computer bank. Spock levered himself off of Jim to investigate.
Jim shivered, missing the warmth. He shook himself and stood up. “Where the hell did that wrench come from and why the hell aren’t we dead?”
The rest of the search party seemed just as confused as he was. “Captain?” It was soft and it was coming from above him. He squinted up at the gray metal ceiling. On one of the scaffold-like protrusions he saw a shock of red. “Keenser! Get down here! With an explanation!”
The background buzz stopped as Spock figured out how to undo whatever Swanson had done to his phaser. It became quiet enough to hear a labored exhalation. “If he’s still alive, get Medical down here. Hell, get Medical down here anyway.”
Petty Officer Rothschild jumped to, quickly relaying the message to sickbay. Jim jogged over to where he could see Keenser climbing down the wall. Keenser had just touched down when he demanded, “What the hell?!”
“We were listening to the comms, sir. When we figured out where he was we started switching all these systems to backups.”
Jim gaped at him. “And you couldn’t have just commed us to say so?”
Keenser tilted his head to the side. “It slipped, sir.”
Jim repeated the phrase, attempting to convey his massive disbelief. “It slipped?”
“Yes, all will swear.” Keenser nodded.
“Fine. It slipped.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Thank you for your quick thinking, Lieutenant. But keep better track of your tools in future. And find someone to look at the damage that phaser did to the computer.”
“I will assess it now.”
Jim walked back to the computer bank with Keenser. He had to consciously slow down because however fast Keenser was at climbing, his short legs didn’t let him walk very quickly. When they got back they found Bones, Dr. Lars and Nurse Chapel working hurriedly to stop Swanson’s bleeding. Bones was barking orders while his red hands plucked at Swanson’s face. Dr. Lars was administering hypos. Spock was quietly dismantling the search parties. Jim caught Lieutenant Finn’s eye and nodded back up the walkway a few meters. Finn set his jaw and followed.
Finn stared at his feet instead of meeting Jim's eye.
“You okay?” Jim asked.
Finn mumbled, “Yes, sir.”
“You froze back there.”
Finn swallowed. “I did, sir.”
“Why, Lieutenant?”
“I-I wasn’t prepared, sir.” His jaw worked. “I didn’t believe you, sir. When you said it was him. I thought, sure, maybe someone is hiding down there killing people. I just didn’t think it could be him.” Finn blinked quickly. “I couldn’t believe he would have killed Vick.” His eyes closed and his lips disappeared into a frown. “But I was wrong.”
“Lieutenant, I can either request or order you to talk to Dr. Evans about this.”
“Dr. Evans, sir?”
Right. Finn might have figured out what had happened between Dr. Evans and Lieutenant Commander Baal. “Make that whichever of the medical staff you feel comfortable with.”
“I will talk to one of them, sir.” A request wouldn’t show up on his record like an order would.
When they got back the doctors had take Swanson to sickbay, leaving Chapel to check whether anyone else had been injured. She was slowly rotating Ensign Non’s wrist while she hissed in pain. Keenser was moving his hands across the computer console. The diagnostic script was scrolling across the terminal and from the amount of red Jim caught in three seconds, it would probably need extensive repairs. Spock was standing there with his hands behind his back. It wasn’t like Spock to linger when there was work to do.
Oh. Right.
Crap.
Jim decided to employ one of those arts of diplomacy he had learned over the last year. Time to stall. He needed to talk to Spock. He knew that. He didn’t need to talk to Spock when he was coming down from an adrenaline high or finally relaxing after weeks of chasing a murderer. “Spock, hold down the fort. I’m going to put together a report for HQ. Let them know we’ve found our killer.”
Another thing he’d learned during his year of command was that a strategic retreat looked a hell of a lot like running away.
~*~*~*~
When Jim actually sat down at his desk to write something his mind was blank. He spent almost an hour at it and the only thing he could come up with was 'Ensign Swanson not dead'. 'Went on a killing spree. Currently in sickbay. Details to follow.' Maybe if he asked Spock nicely he would add in some pronouns. If he and Spock were on speaking terms. Damn, that conversation was going to have to happen soon. Jim puttered around the bridge for another hour, doing some paperwork, avoiding Sulu’s hurt looks in his direction. Some one most have told him about the impromptu senior staff pow wow in Scotty's lab.
Jim finally admitted he needed to face the music when Bones commed him to tell him to come and collect his Vulcan. Apparently Spock had been lurking in sickbay long enough for Nurse Chapel to offer him the latest edition of a journal of neuroscience research, a bowl of soup and a back rub. Bones was demanding Jim come down before Chapel could offer anything else. Jim mused that Spock planted himself in the one place Jim couldn’t avoid for long. He would have to go and get a report on Swanson’s condition. Jim was surprised Bones hadn’t already started pestering him about a check-up after the shoulder he had taken to the gut. Maybe Bones hadn’t heard about that yet, or the flying tackle.
When Jim stepped into sickbay he didn’t see Spock. “Captain.” He jumped at the voice behind him. Spock had decided to lounge, with impeccable posture, right next to the door. “Spock.” Jim was just about to ask what he was doing when Bones ambled into view in a clean pair of surgical scrubs. “Hey, Bones. What’s the word on Swanson?”
Bones snorted. “Its still touch-and-go. Half of his face was crushed. He’s in a coma now. If he wakes up at all, I won’t swear he’ll be coherent or even sentient, with the amount of brain damage he suffered. He’ll be blind in both eyes and need a bunch of reconstructive surgery on his face.”
“There goes any hope of a reason.” Jim mused.
Spock joined them, keeping himself between Jim and the the he noticed. “Perhaps now we know the murderer as well as the victims the motive will become clear.”
“Could be he just went crazy. Transporters can do that to you.” Bones grumbled.
“Bones...” Jim really wasn't in the mood for McCoy's paranoia.
Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “You postulate that his actions are the result of transporter psychosis?”
“It’s as good a theory as any. The victim loses their grip on reality but is still capable of complex reasoning. There was a case on the Heron where the victim thought all blue wires were faulty. He managed to rewire half the core systems,” Bones waved a finger for emphasis, ”correctly before anyone caught on.”
Jim shrugged. Even if you could actually go insane from transporters, it didn’t feel right to blame five murders on a transporter problem. He vaguely remembered doing a puzzle once with another kid in grade school. When two pieces didn’t quite fit together the other boy would pound them on the desk with his fist until they did. This day reminded him of that puzzle. The blue sky mingled with green pieces from the grass. Jim hadn't been able to figure out what the picture was supposed to be but the other kid had been so proud he finished it. Jim ran his hands over his face and through his hair. Maybe this would all make more sense tomorrow. He made sure that there were guards posted around Swanson and said goodbye to Bones.
He wasn’t a bit surprised when Spock fell into step with him. “Captain, we need to discuss today’s events.”
“Right as usual, Spock.” Tired and anxious Jim couldn't resist asking. “Your place or mine?”
The wound up in Spock’s quarters, since they were a couple of yards closer. Spock didn’t offer him tea or a chair or a last cigarette. Spock faced him, hands behind his back, with the usual expression of placid interest. “Captain, I request an explanation for your actions today, when you believed the warp bubble would destabilize.”
There were a hundred excuses on the tip of his tongue. He thought he was going to die. It could have been anyone. He wanted to go out with a bang. It's a reflex, honest. Anyone could have tackled me. Hell, Spock would probably accept any of those and they would pretend it never happened.
Jim squared his shoulders and looked Spock right in the eye. “I’m attracted to you. You’re smart. You’re funny when you want to be and you don’t take any of my shit. I’ve wanted to kiss you for months and if it was the last thing I did I wouldn’t have regretted it.”
Neither Spock's expression nor his posture changed. “I see. Do you wish to pursue an ongoing monogamous sexual relationship with me?”
Jim squinted at him, wondering if this was a trick question. “Umm...yes?”
“Very well. We will begin one immediately.” Spock nodded.
Jim tried to catch up with this conversation. “Did you just ask me to go steady?”
“'Steady' is not the first adjective that I would apply to you. 'Captivating' is more apt.”
Spock replied stepping towards him.
Jim looked at the ceiling. “Spock, how long have we been flirting?”
“Three months, seven days, eight hours.”
“Really?”
“You have been flirting with me for twelve months, twenty days, two hours. It appears to be a compulsive behavior on your part, to flirt with all individuals you encounter.” Jim made a hurt noise. Spock continued. “It made it difficult to judge your intent.”
“Okay... So you started flirting back four months ago.”
“Affirmative.” Spock was even closer now.
“Huh.” Jim was sure that there was a story behind that, which he would ask Spock for sometime when he wasn't dead tired and giddy, but for now... “So, if we’re dating, does that mean I get a good night kiss?” He gave Spock his best hopeful look.
Spock stepped into his space slowly sliding his fingers along Jim’s jaw and leaning in for a slow, solemn kiss. The kiss felt huge to Jim. They were at the beginning of something. Something vast, possibilities multiplying infinitely before them, Jim knew this could be so much more than a round of slap and tickle. Jim grinned at the phrase. He leaned in for another kiss and another. He kept his eyes closed. Somewhere in the last ten minutes the tension of the past days had bled out of him. Spock’s warm arms around him and the soft touch of his lips let him drift farther and farther into his fatigue.
Next: Part 13
Author:
j_green_teeth
Universe/Series: reboot
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 6532 of ~41,000
Warnings: Minor/OC Character Death, discussion of Suicide (highlight to view complete warnings)
Characters/Pairings: Kirk/Spock, implied Scotty/Uhura, OC/OC, ensemble, Many OCs
"Hey, Scotty, did you ever figure out what was going on with the transporters?" Jim spoke to Scotty’s back as his front was buried in an access panel.
Scotty hauled himself out and popped the panel back on. "Not yet. I know the rogue code is there but I don't know what triggered it."
"I've got an insane idea."
Scotty started to smile. "That's what I like to hear, lad."
"Is it possible to set a transporter up to duplicate a pattern?"
Scotty chewed his lip. "You'd need a hell of a lot of space to store it."
Jim wondered aloud. "What about duplicating it so that it materializes in two places at the same time?"
"It would take a fair bit of power to do that. And whatever algorithm you use to transcode the pattern would have to be quick enough to integrate both patterns without electron drift."
"But is it possible?" Jim was starting to get excited.
Scotty gave him an amused look. "Since when have we worried about that?"
Jim started to grin. “So what would you say if I told you an orange had showed up a couple weeks ago apparently out of no where?”
“I can have those micro transporters set up in three minutes.” Scotty frowned. “Er...nothing else has shown up, has it?”
Jim had learned with Scotty that sometimes you just didn’t ask. “Not that I’ve heard.”
“Good, good. Come on, let’s get those wee transporters set up and see what we can find.”
The three of them headed towards Scotty’s lab. Someone most have cleaned up recently because all of Scotty’s tinkering had been corralled into large boxes, each secured in a shelving unit. A bumpy ride would have hopelessly jumbled any components left on the wide work bench itself bolted to the floor. Scotty took out one of the boxes and started pulling out pieces.
“This seems like an ill-advised experiment,” said Spock.
“The worst that can happen is we waste an hour or two playing around.” Jim tried to reassure him.
“A outcome supporting your hypothesis of duplication would potentially be disastrous. I can think of ninety-two distinct places that, were they integrated with an orange, would cause significant impairment of their function.”
Jim leaned towards Scotty. “You got a mini shield to go with those mini transporters?”
“Of course, Keenser designed one years ago.”
He leaned back. “Happy, Spock?”
Spock nodded. They got the portable shield and transporters assembled on the workbench. Scotty found a cracked piece of water coil as big as his hand and set it on the first pad. The shield zinged to life after a few pokes to the control pad. They waited expectantly as Scotty keyed in the transport sequence and kicked it off. The coil flicked out of existence and a fraction of a second later flickered into existence on the other pad. The shield didn’t so much as twitch. Jim sighed.
Scotty frowned down at the control. “It worked exactly like it was supposed to.”
“Perhaps there is a missing variable. As you said, there were no reports of any of the other objects used in the demonstration materializing in unexpected locations.” Spock offered.
“So what else was happening when Scotty was transporting the orange?” All Jim could remember was staring at Spock wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
“A PADD alarm went off one-point-two seconds before transport was initiated and continued for another five-point-seven seconds.”
“Oh, yeah.” Jim nodded.
Scotty cheerfully said. “It’s worth a try.”
Quickly they reset the experiment, adding a PADD with its alarm ringing on the table. They retreated a few steps as the shield activated. Scotty hit the button and they all watched as the coil flickered and disappeared from the first pad then started to materialize on the second. Jim held his breath. The beam shivered and the shield sparkled then fizzed. On the second pad was a mangled water coil and embedded in the table was another smoking coil. They all shared a moment of wordless glee.
Spock came back to his senses fastest. “Was the orange reported to be in good condition when it was found?”
“Ensign Daws didn’t mention pulp all over her panties.” Spock gave him a flat look. “So I’m guessing it materialized fine.”
“Probably reflecting off the shield that did it in.” Scotty explained.
Spock continued the thought. “So we must assume that under ideal conditions something-”
Jim cut in, “Or someone...”
“...could have survived intact.” Spock paused. “You believe Ensign Swanson was subject to this mechanism.”
Jim nodded. “And if we haven't found him in the twenty-four days since he beamed up from Kumba 6-4, we can assume he doesn't want to be found.”
Scotty, whose eyes had been bouncing between them during this exchange mumbled, “That’s unbelievable.”
“I think there is a good chance he’s involved in what’s been happening. We need to figure out where that transporter algorithm sends things. So we need to run a few simulations.” Jim's mind was racing.
“Given the underlying code we could use probabilistic modeling to predict the likely vector and velocity coefficients to any-”
Scotty broke in, “Nah, the data you need to generate a reasonable test set is enormous. It would work better to start with a specific set of variables and get a beginning data set that way.”
“There is no reason to infer that the problem space is simple enough to get relevant metrics from a limit set of comparison.” Spock turned to face Scotty.
Jim stepped away from their debate and pulled out the communicator Spock insisted he carry. “Kirk to Uhura.”
“Uhura here, Captain.”
“I need you to go over some of the transmissions from the Kumba 6-4 mission.”
“Sir?” Her surprise filtered through the comm.
“See if you can find anything strange in the transmission when Ensign Swanson was beaming up.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Oh, and could you send Chekov down here? I think we’re about to bust out some serious math.”
“I thought Spock was helping you?”
Jim held the communicator out to clearly catch the sounds of Scotty and Spock loudly discussing the most efficient way to build the simulation. When he turned it back Uhura sighed. “I guess I’m eating alone today.”
Jim grinned. “I wouldn’t say no if you stopped by with some sandwiches.”
“Tell it to your yeoman.” He imagined he could hear her rolling her eyes.
“Right. Kirk out.”
Jim rubbed his hands together and dived into conversation with Spock and Scotty.
Chekov joined them before they could come to an agreement on exactly how to figure out where the second transporter beam went. Eventually they decided to try to use the mini transporters to identify the boundary conditions while Spock and Chekov would work on a way to integrate the input from the full scale transporters. Jim hacked the PADD alarm to bleat at different frequencies. He and Scotty spent a couple of happy hours smashing bits of junk against the shield.
Uhura showed up two-and-a-half hours in with a handheld audio unit and Yeoman Rand in tow with lunch. Spock and Chekov came out of the corner where they had been working, heads bent together over the data terminal. Rand was dismissed after the food was laid out. They pulled an assortment of stools, chairs and boxes around the workbench to eat.
Uhura explained what she had found while the four of them munched. “So I focused on the last transmission from Kumba 6-4 like you asked.” She played the audio. “First thing I did was remove the voices, which gives us this.” She played the modified file. “Take out the dinosaur noises and this is the result.”
Spock tilted his head as the recording played. “That is not ambient noise.”
“No, it’s not. I cleaned up as much of the background as I can. Based on the lack of sound variance, I’d say that this sound was coming from the communicator.”
“The communicator?” Chekov wondered.
“Yes, I checked the other transmissions from Kumba 6-4 and it doesn’t appear in any of them. I also asked Ensign Himshe to check for similar sounds on the last five away missions.”
“You rock.”
“Why, thank you, Captain.”
“Let’s see what this sound does,” Scotty said, popping the last of his sandwich in his mouth.
What it did was send the burnt-out panel glass in a completely opposite direction from the other junk. Spock and Chekov had an intense exchange in Russian before Spock looked up and said, “We are ninety-six-point-one percent certain that all the transporter safety protocols are being applied to the version not directed to the pad. Hence the consistent destruction of the ones on the pad without the shield the other transporter beam will materialize safely. Furthermore, we have narrowed the area of transport down to thirty meters, based on the starting point of the primary transporter room.”
“Well?” Jim beckoned Spock to give him the location.
“Engineering deck L, M or N between walkways 85 and 95 and phi and upsilon.”
Jim pulled up his mental map of the Enterprise. “Lieutenant Commander Vick died between main Engineering and that area.” Spock nodded. “Come on, let’s get some security and do a bit of reconnaissance.”
Spock insisted on rounding up several security officers before they went to investigate. Jim was pretty sure Swanson wouldn’t have hung around a place that he could potentially be traced to. They started on deck L and did a sweep of each corridor. They were almost finished with M when something caught Scotty’s eye. One of the floor-level panels had been inexpertly removed, judging by the faint scratches. After scanning it six ways from Sunday for booby traps, Scotty popped the panel off. Everything looked normal to Jim but Scotty was quick to point out the missing cable cord from the twist of power wires. To keep everything neat a cord was placed around the cables at every juncture. Any engineer working with the cables would have replaced the cord when they were done. The only reason someone would have removed the cord was if they needed to pull the cable out to power some device in the corridor. Jim ordered security to finish searching to be thorough, but he had his answer. Ensign Swanson was somewhere on the ship.
They retreated back to Scotty’s lab to figure out what to do next. “So, gentlemen and lady. How do we find him?” Jim asked the group.
“Internal ship sensors aren’t designed for that kind of scan. The external scanners are, but not on such a small scale,” Chekov offered.
“Even if the internal sensors were suitable for the task they do not cover enough of the ship to be useful,” Spock continued.
“We might be able to rig handheld units to pick up on a person’s heartbeat. They would need to have a huge range of sensitivity and be able to filter out the ambient ship noise,” Uhura suggested.
“That would register anyone in the immediate area,” said Spock.
Jim nodded. “We’ll give our people transmitters. One each, broadcasting a specific code. Then we can build a real-time map of where everyone is. We set up audio checkpoints in major areas and if a heartbeat without a matching transmitter shows up we check it out. Then we can have search teams with audio scanners too, doing the same thing.”
Scotty looked over at him. “Just so we’re clear you want us to build a hand held unit that can pick up a heartbeat at a useful distance, say twenty meters. And that can separate it from the rest of the noise around here. Then produce almost four hundred transmitters. And write a program that will mash that data together.”
“Yep.” Jim nodded decisively.
“Give me three days. I love a challenge.” Scotty rubbed his hands together.
Jim told him, “You have until tomorrow.”
Scotty chuckled and Jim grinned. It felt so good to be moving again after spending so much time thrashing over the files. “Scotty, Chekov, work on the handhelds; oh, and find some engineers to put together the transmitters. Those are simple enough. Uhura, I want you to find Bones and the two of you to figure out how to identify heartbeats. Spock, you’re with me putting together the mapping program.”
Jim waited a beat for Spock to object. The program was the simplest part of the whole plan. It probably wouldn’t take either of them more than four hours to do. Spock just nodded and went to the terminal. Together it only took them two-and-a-half hours to get it done. Jim briefly fantasized about working on a bigger project with Spock. Who knew what they could create together?
Jim checked in briefly with Uhura and Bones. If he interpreted their quick, half-formed sentences correctly, they were making progress and would let him know when they had a prototype. Spock joined Scotty and Chekov over the guts of a heavy duty recorder unit. It looked like they were recalibrating the artificial membranes and adding several more than normal. Jim decided to join Keenser, who was seated on the floor assembling transmitter after transmitter. He already had a pile of fifty or so of the pin-sized devices in front of him. After another two hours Jim asked Yeoman Rand to bring another meal. She delivered it, along with a stack of paperwork, implying that the ship would fall out of the sky if he didn’t complete it in the next twelve hours. He set to it.
An hour after that Uhura and Bones appeared bearing an audio filter that they thought would do the trick. Then it was still awhile until the audio sensor prototype was all put together. It reminded Jim of the ray guns from 'Billy Bob’s Great Space Odyssey'. There was a handle which had a frame that had twelve disks. The largest was probably thirty centimeters across. In front of it was a smaller one, then another smaller one until the last one, the tip of the cone, was only a centimeter across. A cord came down to a modified tricorder which would process the sounds with the new filter.
As usual, when there wasn’t certain death awaiting them in the next five minutes, the first try didn’t go well. Jim drifted back to his paperwork after it was clear it wouldn’t be a quick and easy bug to squash. He must have nodded off somewhere around the reviews of the mess’ upcoming efficiency estimates, because the next thing he knew someone was shaking his shoulder. “Captain.”
He cracked an eye open. Judging by the blue sleeve and hot hand... “Hey, Spock. How’s it going?”
“We believe the sensors, transmitters and tracking program are all working within acceptable parameters.”
He shook himself, trying to wake up the rest of the way. “Great. What time is it?”
“0600.”
“Wow.” He rubbed his face. “Scotty, it’s working?”
“Aye, it is.”
“Good work, everyone. Get some sleep. I’ll start organizing search parties.”
Bones poked Chekov until he slid off his stool and wandered towards the door yawning. Scotty roused a sleeping Uhura more gently and they left with their arms around each others' waists. Keenser must have left sometime earlier. Spock stood calmly, next to the five sensors they had created during the night.
“That goes for you, too, Spock.”
Spock blinked serenely at him. “I do not require sleep at this time.”
“You sure?” Jim was still trying to wake up but Spock still looked fresh after a night of working.
“Positive, Captain.”
He stood up and did a full body stretch trying to convince his muscles moving was a good idea. “Okay. Let’s get this show on the road.”
They rounded up as many security officers and crew members with combat experience as they could find and explained the plan. The transmitters had been dropped off at Communications with orders to do word-of-mouth disbursement. Since it would take a while for every crew member to receive one. Jim decided to start their search in Engineering where there were fewer crew members per square meter, and which Swanson had already shown a fondness for.
Each search team was equipped with a scanner, a communicator and phasers. There was a good chance Swanson was armed. It took a little wrangling but Jim managed to get Spock on a separate search team. He needed team leaders he could trust to do things right. Jim's team was himself, Lieutenant Finn and Petty Officers Rothschild and Obedallah. They were assigned deck Q to search. All of the engineers starting alpha shift were given a transmitter before the search parties set out.
Petty Officer Rothschild took the lead once they descended to deck Q. The idea was that they would start at the low-numbered corridors and work their way towards the higher numbers. It wasn’t perfect but they would take advantage of the multidirectional nature of the scanner and multiple search parties. Each person wielding the scanner would scan the complete hemisphere giving them a reading including the deck above and the deck below. Each party was starting in a different place and walking a different way. Jim's team was starting at the fore. Spock’s team on the deck below would start on the starboard side and work upwards through the Greek alphabet. The team below his would start at the aft and work down the corridors from high numbers to low and so on with the group below them. It would be hard, but not impossible, to avoid all the search teams that way. Jim had scrambled to get everyone ready quickly. The sooner they started the less likely Swanson was to hear about the search and the more likely they were to catch him.
Jim's team were only two corridors in when the scanner started to blip quietly. Jim, Finn and Obedallah drew their phasers while Rothschild hung back with the scanner. They crept up on the cul-de-sac that was making the scanner blip a steady tone. He nodded to the others then turned the corner, phaser ready. The small gray-and-white cat that had chosen that particular piece of floor to sleep on blinked a lazy eye at him. Jim sighed. Obviously there was still work to do to get the scanner to only pick up on humans. They couldn’t leave it here. It might start running around and set off false positives all over the place. The cat must have decided it didn’t like the look of him because when he walked towards it it sprang to its feet, neatly avoided his grab for it by diving between his legs and was off like a shot. Lieutenant Finn made a lunge for it as it streaked passed. Obedallah let it go by him before raising his phaser and shooting. The shot went wide but the cat stumbled to a halt and collapsed on its side.
Jim gave Obedallah a sideways look.
He smiled. “We had troublemaker cats on the Royale, sir. I learned pretty quick how close you need to hit with a human graded phaser to stun the pests.”
“Thanks, Petty Officer. Take that little guy up to main Engineering. Either tag him with a transmitter or get someone to keep him until we’re finished down here.”
Obedallah tucked the stunned cat into his arms and walked away.
“Okay. Let’s get back to searching.” Jim told Finn and Rothschild.
They had made it almost a quarter of the way across the deck before the scanner started to blip again, more intensely this time. It pointed them towards one of the auxiliary control rooms. Jim and Finn positioned themselves on either side of the door, once again with phasers at the ready. Jim palmed the entry panel and the door hissed open. Jim and Finn swung forward, pointing their phasers at two crewmen that until a second ago had probably been very aroused. Mortified was probably a more accurate word now. Jim looked long enough to verify that neither was Swanson then barked, “You’ve got sixty seconds to make yourselves presentable,” before palming the door shut. Finn had turned red and was biting his lip and avoiding eye contact. When Jim judged the awkward silence had lasted more than a minute he opened the door again to a shame faced and silent Ensign Sun and an extremely apologetic Chief Petty Officer Howell. He cut her off. “At the moment I don’t have time to give you two a lecture on appropriate places for personal activities.” Sun’s shoulders relaxed. “Expect one from Commander Spock in the near future.” Sun winced and Howell’s red face started to fade to white. “For the moment, complete your work here and report to main Engineering for further instructions.”
Sun offered hopefully. “Umm... neither of us are on duty, sir.”
He waved them away. “Then report to main Engineering now. They’ll explain what’s going on.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
They ducked passed him and started briskly -very briskly- away from the search party. Jim snorted. He was sure tomorrow that little encounter would seem absolutely hilarious.
They set off again, slowly working their way back and forth across Q deck. It was another five passes before the scanner began to blip again. They stopped at an intersection to try to get a fix on this new signal. As they stood the blipping became faster; whoever it was was moving towards them. Jim hastily motioned Finn around one corner while he and Rothschild ducked around the other way. After a few seconds came the quiet sound of footsteps. They weren’t going fast or slow. Whoever it was was going somewhere but they weren’t in a rush to get there.
Petty Officer Rothschild fumbled with the scanner, making a shushing sound as it slid against his uniform sleeve. The footsteps stopped. Jim thought, ‘Ah, fuck it,’ and wheeled around the corner. Too late. Ensign Able Swanson was already ducking low and charging. His shoulder jammed into Jim's gut, winding him. Swanson continued his charge on a diagonal past a gawping Finn. Finn turned to track Swanson.
Jim bellowed, “Stun him!” Finn’s hand twitched convulsively around his phaser. The wild shot sparked and dissipated ineffectually along the wall. Jim pushed past the unresponsive Finn to chase after Swanson. He pulled out his communicator as he ran. Still winded from the blow to the stomach he panted out, “Found hm. He’s running up corridor sixteen.” There was a jumbled series of acknowledgments. Dimly he heard two sets of running feet behind him. Swanson swerved.
Rothschild called out, “He’s turning!”
Jim echoed it. “He’s turning down Mu.” Again a jumbled response that the other teams were closing on their position. The red-shirt in front of them made another sharp turn. “He’s going down seventeen now.” Swanson tried to throw them off by going around in a large loop between seventeen and fourteen. They managed to keep up with him, barely. They were all panting and red faced after sprinting for five solid minutes. Swanson came out of his circle at fifteen, where he flung himself up the metal stairs to deck P.
“Damn it,” Jim breathed. The stairs shook as the three of them pounded up. They reached the landing just in time to see him duck around one of the massive turbines. P deck had five story high ceilings to accommodate the large equipment. It was going to make Swanson hard to catch since he could hide behind machinery as big as buildings. They turned the corner and Jim literally skidded a foot trying to stop. Swanson had stopped and while gulping for air he was holding a phaser menacingly towards the busily blinking computer bank behind him. Jim desperately tried to remember what this particular section did. They all stood for several seconds, breathing heavily. He could sense that Finn and Rothschild had come to flank him. Finn’s quiet, “Shit,” was almost drowned out by their breathing and the ambient noise. It validated Jim's suspicion that Swanson was in a position to fuck their shit up.
Swanson, still swallowing heavily, waved the phaser from side to side. “If you don’t know what this is, it’s part of the navigation system. It’s the part that does all the warp calculations.”
Jim grasped at that. “Machinery isn’t affected by phaser fire.”
Swanson rolled his eyes. “Like you don’t know that they’ve been using bionetics for years in that circuitry. One good blast and the warp bubble goes poof.”
A hasty clatter signaled the arrival of another of the search parties. Spock didn’t look at all winded from what must have been a mad dash up here. He did look pissed. Not like he was going to fly into a wild rage but like Swanson had just removed himself from the category of those things worthy of life. Jim shivered.
As Spock stepped up beside Jim he spoke in a voice so carefully controlled it might as well have been a computer. “You are acting illogically. A persistent habit of your race.”
“Oh. Yeah?” Swanson sneered.
“Oh, as you say, yeah. We are many. You are one.” Spock's diction was razor sharp, conveying his annoyance more thoroughly than shouting.
Swanson had his eyes on them but his phaser was still firmly point at the computer. “One good blast to this-”
“And you will die just like every other individual on this ship.”
“Yep.” Swanson agreed manically.
“We merely have to wait. You have nowhere to go. You are surrounded.” Two more of the search teams had arrived. “And eventually you will fall asleep or pass out from exhaustion.” Spock continued.
Swanson's smile grew. “That’s why I’ve rigged this with a dead man’s switch. The second my finger comes off this trigger...boom.”
Jim stepped in. This wasn’t getting them anywhere. “What do you want, Able? If it was us dead you’d have already fired.”
“Ha. The great Captain comes begging.” A flicker of silver rapidly descending caught Jim's eye. Swanson continued, “What I want...” He trailed off as he noticed Jim's attention had shifted. He looked up just in time to catch a wrench in his face. He crumpled. His phaser tumbled out of loose fingers. Jim hit the deck with a hundred pounds of Vulcan on top of him, as the phaser sprayed out a wide area blast of energy. He watched in horror as its butt hit the ground and bounced, then fell towards Swanson and the computer bank.
Thoughts flashed across his mind. 'We’re all going to die' lead to 'what the hell'. He gripped Spock’s face and turned it to plant a closed-mouthed kiss square on his lips. Spock didn’t pull away. Nor did he respond as Jim counted off the seconds of contact in his head. Two, three, four, five. Shouldn’t they be dead by now? He moved his eyes then his head. The phaser was still discharging in stuttering bursts on the floor. There was no way the beam could have missed the computer bank. Spock levered himself off of Jim to investigate.
Jim shivered, missing the warmth. He shook himself and stood up. “Where the hell did that wrench come from and why the hell aren’t we dead?”
The rest of the search party seemed just as confused as he was. “Captain?” It was soft and it was coming from above him. He squinted up at the gray metal ceiling. On one of the scaffold-like protrusions he saw a shock of red. “Keenser! Get down here! With an explanation!”
The background buzz stopped as Spock figured out how to undo whatever Swanson had done to his phaser. It became quiet enough to hear a labored exhalation. “If he’s still alive, get Medical down here. Hell, get Medical down here anyway.”
Petty Officer Rothschild jumped to, quickly relaying the message to sickbay. Jim jogged over to where he could see Keenser climbing down the wall. Keenser had just touched down when he demanded, “What the hell?!”
“We were listening to the comms, sir. When we figured out where he was we started switching all these systems to backups.”
Jim gaped at him. “And you couldn’t have just commed us to say so?”
Keenser tilted his head to the side. “It slipped, sir.”
Jim repeated the phrase, attempting to convey his massive disbelief. “It slipped?”
“Yes, all will swear.” Keenser nodded.
“Fine. It slipped.” He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Thank you for your quick thinking, Lieutenant. But keep better track of your tools in future. And find someone to look at the damage that phaser did to the computer.”
“I will assess it now.”
Jim walked back to the computer bank with Keenser. He had to consciously slow down because however fast Keenser was at climbing, his short legs didn’t let him walk very quickly. When they got back they found Bones, Dr. Lars and Nurse Chapel working hurriedly to stop Swanson’s bleeding. Bones was barking orders while his red hands plucked at Swanson’s face. Dr. Lars was administering hypos. Spock was quietly dismantling the search parties. Jim caught Lieutenant Finn’s eye and nodded back up the walkway a few meters. Finn set his jaw and followed.
Finn stared at his feet instead of meeting Jim's eye.
“You okay?” Jim asked.
Finn mumbled, “Yes, sir.”
“You froze back there.”
Finn swallowed. “I did, sir.”
“Why, Lieutenant?”
“I-I wasn’t prepared, sir.” His jaw worked. “I didn’t believe you, sir. When you said it was him. I thought, sure, maybe someone is hiding down there killing people. I just didn’t think it could be him.” Finn blinked quickly. “I couldn’t believe he would have killed Vick.” His eyes closed and his lips disappeared into a frown. “But I was wrong.”
“Lieutenant, I can either request or order you to talk to Dr. Evans about this.”
“Dr. Evans, sir?”
Right. Finn might have figured out what had happened between Dr. Evans and Lieutenant Commander Baal. “Make that whichever of the medical staff you feel comfortable with.”
“I will talk to one of them, sir.” A request wouldn’t show up on his record like an order would.
When they got back the doctors had take Swanson to sickbay, leaving Chapel to check whether anyone else had been injured. She was slowly rotating Ensign Non’s wrist while she hissed in pain. Keenser was moving his hands across the computer console. The diagnostic script was scrolling across the terminal and from the amount of red Jim caught in three seconds, it would probably need extensive repairs. Spock was standing there with his hands behind his back. It wasn’t like Spock to linger when there was work to do.
Oh. Right.
Crap.
Jim decided to employ one of those arts of diplomacy he had learned over the last year. Time to stall. He needed to talk to Spock. He knew that. He didn’t need to talk to Spock when he was coming down from an adrenaline high or finally relaxing after weeks of chasing a murderer. “Spock, hold down the fort. I’m going to put together a report for HQ. Let them know we’ve found our killer.”
Another thing he’d learned during his year of command was that a strategic retreat looked a hell of a lot like running away.
~*~*~*~
When Jim actually sat down at his desk to write something his mind was blank. He spent almost an hour at it and the only thing he could come up with was 'Ensign Swanson not dead'. 'Went on a killing spree. Currently in sickbay. Details to follow.' Maybe if he asked Spock nicely he would add in some pronouns. If he and Spock were on speaking terms. Damn, that conversation was going to have to happen soon. Jim puttered around the bridge for another hour, doing some paperwork, avoiding Sulu’s hurt looks in his direction. Some one most have told him about the impromptu senior staff pow wow in Scotty's lab.
Jim finally admitted he needed to face the music when Bones commed him to tell him to come and collect his Vulcan. Apparently Spock had been lurking in sickbay long enough for Nurse Chapel to offer him the latest edition of a journal of neuroscience research, a bowl of soup and a back rub. Bones was demanding Jim come down before Chapel could offer anything else. Jim mused that Spock planted himself in the one place Jim couldn’t avoid for long. He would have to go and get a report on Swanson’s condition. Jim was surprised Bones hadn’t already started pestering him about a check-up after the shoulder he had taken to the gut. Maybe Bones hadn’t heard about that yet, or the flying tackle.
When Jim stepped into sickbay he didn’t see Spock. “Captain.” He jumped at the voice behind him. Spock had decided to lounge, with impeccable posture, right next to the door. “Spock.” Jim was just about to ask what he was doing when Bones ambled into view in a clean pair of surgical scrubs. “Hey, Bones. What’s the word on Swanson?”
Bones snorted. “Its still touch-and-go. Half of his face was crushed. He’s in a coma now. If he wakes up at all, I won’t swear he’ll be coherent or even sentient, with the amount of brain damage he suffered. He’ll be blind in both eyes and need a bunch of reconstructive surgery on his face.”
“There goes any hope of a reason.” Jim mused.
Spock joined them, keeping himself between Jim and the the he noticed. “Perhaps now we know the murderer as well as the victims the motive will become clear.”
“Could be he just went crazy. Transporters can do that to you.” Bones grumbled.
“Bones...” Jim really wasn't in the mood for McCoy's paranoia.
Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “You postulate that his actions are the result of transporter psychosis?”
“It’s as good a theory as any. The victim loses their grip on reality but is still capable of complex reasoning. There was a case on the Heron where the victim thought all blue wires were faulty. He managed to rewire half the core systems,” Bones waved a finger for emphasis, ”correctly before anyone caught on.”
Jim shrugged. Even if you could actually go insane from transporters, it didn’t feel right to blame five murders on a transporter problem. He vaguely remembered doing a puzzle once with another kid in grade school. When two pieces didn’t quite fit together the other boy would pound them on the desk with his fist until they did. This day reminded him of that puzzle. The blue sky mingled with green pieces from the grass. Jim hadn't been able to figure out what the picture was supposed to be but the other kid had been so proud he finished it. Jim ran his hands over his face and through his hair. Maybe this would all make more sense tomorrow. He made sure that there were guards posted around Swanson and said goodbye to Bones.
He wasn’t a bit surprised when Spock fell into step with him. “Captain, we need to discuss today’s events.”
“Right as usual, Spock.” Tired and anxious Jim couldn't resist asking. “Your place or mine?”
The wound up in Spock’s quarters, since they were a couple of yards closer. Spock didn’t offer him tea or a chair or a last cigarette. Spock faced him, hands behind his back, with the usual expression of placid interest. “Captain, I request an explanation for your actions today, when you believed the warp bubble would destabilize.”
There were a hundred excuses on the tip of his tongue. He thought he was going to die. It could have been anyone. He wanted to go out with a bang. It's a reflex, honest. Anyone could have tackled me. Hell, Spock would probably accept any of those and they would pretend it never happened.
Jim squared his shoulders and looked Spock right in the eye. “I’m attracted to you. You’re smart. You’re funny when you want to be and you don’t take any of my shit. I’ve wanted to kiss you for months and if it was the last thing I did I wouldn’t have regretted it.”
Neither Spock's expression nor his posture changed. “I see. Do you wish to pursue an ongoing monogamous sexual relationship with me?”
Jim squinted at him, wondering if this was a trick question. “Umm...yes?”
“Very well. We will begin one immediately.” Spock nodded.
Jim tried to catch up with this conversation. “Did you just ask me to go steady?”
“'Steady' is not the first adjective that I would apply to you. 'Captivating' is more apt.”
Spock replied stepping towards him.
Jim looked at the ceiling. “Spock, how long have we been flirting?”
“Three months, seven days, eight hours.”
“Really?”
“You have been flirting with me for twelve months, twenty days, two hours. It appears to be a compulsive behavior on your part, to flirt with all individuals you encounter.” Jim made a hurt noise. Spock continued. “It made it difficult to judge your intent.”
“Okay... So you started flirting back four months ago.”
“Affirmative.” Spock was even closer now.
“Huh.” Jim was sure that there was a story behind that, which he would ask Spock for sometime when he wasn't dead tired and giddy, but for now... “So, if we’re dating, does that mean I get a good night kiss?” He gave Spock his best hopeful look.
Spock stepped into his space slowly sliding his fingers along Jim’s jaw and leaning in for a slow, solemn kiss. The kiss felt huge to Jim. They were at the beginning of something. Something vast, possibilities multiplying infinitely before them, Jim knew this could be so much more than a round of slap and tickle. Jim grinned at the phrase. He leaned in for another kiss and another. He kept his eyes closed. Somewhere in the last ten minutes the tension of the past days had bled out of him. Spock’s warm arms around him and the soft touch of his lips let him drift farther and farther into his fatigue.
Next: Part 13