Chapter 8

The man in the command chair was not the one who visited McCoy's office in the wee hours of the morning. This Spock was cool and aloof, the epitome of Vulcan control. The doctor moved to stand beside him at the center of the bridge.

"You look rested," he muttered, not quite sure what to make of the sudden transformation.

Spock ignored the comment. "Is there something you require, Doctor?"

An explanation would be nice!

"No," he said instead, as smoothly as he could manage. "Just thought I'd check in, see what was happening."

"Our situation remains unchanged."

McCoy decided not to push it, though it was an effort to control his exasperation.

"Well, then... I guess I'll be in sickbay if you need me."

"I shall contact you if I do."

McCoy opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. He turned angrily and headed for the turbolift, but Chekov's voice stopped him at the doors.

"Mr. Spock!" he shouted excitedly. "The Klingons are moving!"

McCoy moved quickly to stand with Uhura as Spock took control of the bridge.

"Course and speed?"

Chekov studied the scanners. "They are on an intercept course. Half impulse power."

"Red alert," Spock ordered. "Raise shields. Mr. Scott, power up the warp drive. Mr. Sulu, maintain position until further order."

A chorus of "aye, sirs" followed his commands, and everyone busied themselves with their assigned tasks.

"Lieutenant Uhura," Spock said. "Are you still signaling the Klingon vessel?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. "Per your orders."

"Ship to ship, Lieutenant," he said. "I'll take it down here."

Without delay, Spock hit the communication switch at his fingertips.

"Commander, Klingon vessel. This is First Officer Spock, temporarily in command of the starship Enterprise. You will immediately release your hostages and cease this aggression against our vessel, or we shall be forced to take official action. Please respond."

Uhura's voice was tinged with surprise. "Mr. Spock, they're signaling."

"On screen, Lieutenant."

A rough, dark Klingon face quickly replaced the field of stars.

"First Officer Spock," he growled. "Your temporary command is now over. You will surrender your vessel and prepare to be boarded."

Spock's eyebrow rose into this hairline. "And if we do not?"

"Your captain will die," came the cold response. "Then we shall destroy you."

"The taking of hostages is not a typical Klingon tactic. Please explain your actions."

The Klingon ignored him. "I give you two minutes to comply."

The screen went dark. The few brief seconds of silence which ensued seemed like hours before Spock finally spoke.

"It would seem their primary goal is, in fact, the Enterprise."

Chekov turned to face him from the science station. "But why would they kidnap the captain?"

"Maybe they thought it would be easier to take the ship if Jim was out of the way," McCoy suggested.

Spock's face showed no glimmer of emotion. "Perhaps," he replied thoughtfully, then turned his attention to their more immediate problem. "Phaser crews stand ready. Arm photon torpedoes. Mr. Sulu... I would prefer not to fire on that vessel, but it appears to be inevitable. I want you to target their engines and weapon systems only. Do I make myself clear?"

"Aye, sir."

Spock spun the command chair to face his communications officer. "Lieutenant Uhura, notify Starfleet of our situation."

She nodded quickly and turned back to her station.

"Mr. Chekov," Spock continued, finally rising from his chair. "Transfer tactical display to helm control." He moved to stand with the ensign at the science station.

Chekov quickly made the transfer, then stepped back obligingly to allow Spock to peer into the scanner. The blue reflection cast an eerie, alien look to his face.

McCoy moved toward him. "What are you doing?"

"I am adjusting the scanners, Doctor," he replied without looking up.

McCoy rolled his eyes. He had hoped to avoid this little game of 20 Questions, but Spock was not cooperating.

"What for?"

"Every source of energy," Spock explained absently, "must cycle at regular intervals."

"What source of energy?"

"Their shields?" It was Scott's voice from across the bridge at the engineering station.

Spock nodded, quickly completing the adjustments. "Precisely. Mr. Chekov, I want to know how often their shield power is disrupted and the duration between cycles." He moved back to the command chair. "Mr. Scott, have the transporter room standing by. Once their shields are down, we will have very little time to locate the landing party and beam them aboard."

McCoy stood back in awe. At first, he had thought the Vulcan's cold manner stemmed from embarrassment. For Spock, the scene in McCoy's office might have seemed like a full-blown emotional outburst. But he was beginning to realize it wasn't embarrassment but confidence that had brought about the change. Spock was in control and following a logical course of action to his desired outcome. Suddenly McCoy shared in that confidence. Jim Kirk was coming home!

"Warp drive power levels at one-hundred percent, Mr. Spock," Scott reported. "Transporter room standing by."

"Very well. Back us off, Mr. Sulu. One-quarter impulse power. Analysis, Mr. Chekov?"

"Nothing yet, sir."

"They've gone into warp, Mr. Spock!" Sulu shouted. "Disrupter banks activating."

"Evasive maneuvers," Spock ordered calmly. "Keep us out of the neutral zone, Lieutenant."

A brilliant flash lit the viewscreen as the Klingon ship opened fire, and to McCoy, Sulu's report seemed quite unnecessary.

"Disrupter charge incoming."

The words had barely crossed his lips when the charge hit their defensive screens. The Enterprise rocked against the impact.

"Shields holding," Scott reported quickly.

Chekov finally called out from the science station. "Two-point-seven-three minute intervals, Mr. Spock! Point-six-four second duration."

"We shall have no margin for error," Spock said. "Mr. Sulu, transfer phasers to computer control. Mr. Chekov, program phaser barrage for the next cycle interval."

The orders were flying fast and furious, and McCoy privately wondered if Spock had even taken a breath.

"Mr. Sulu, once their shields are down, target photon torpedoes on their disrupter banks and fire. Mr. Scott..." He turned to face the engineer. "They may attempt to flee. Ready tractor beams and lock onto that vessel the moment their weapon systems are disabled. Mr. Chekov, stand ready to locate the landing party and have them beamed aboard."

McCoy moved to Uhura's station. "Lieutenant, get hold of Christine. Have her get a medical team to the transporter room. I'll join them in a few minutes."

"Yes, Doctor," she replied happily, turning to her console.

Another disrupter blast slammed against the Enterprise's shields. McCoy grabbed the back of Uhura's chair for support.

"Forward shields at eighty-two percent," Scott reported.

"Damage control procedures," Spock ordered. "Mr. Chekov, time to automated firing sequence?"

"Thirty-six seconds and counting, sir."

Another flash of light illuminated the viewscreen, and McCoy braced himself for the impact. It seemed, though, this charge was more violent than the others.

"Forward shields down to fifty-three percent," Scott shouted. "They won't take another hit like that!"

"Time?" Spock demanded.

Sulu, who had started the chronometer at the last report, responded quickly. "Eighteen seconds and counting."

"Protect forward shields, Mr. Sulu," Spock said.

"Aye, sir. Photon torpedoes standing by." He began the verbal countdown at ten seconds.

The tension on the bridge seemed to increase steadily with each passing second.

"...four... three... two... one..."

The sudden blue flash was startlingly bright against the blackness of space. Even though McCoy had been expecting it, the sudden phaser fire made him jump.

Hours seemed to drag by before Sulu finally shouted, "It worked! Their shields are down!"

Spock leapt ever gracefully from the command chair. "Now, Mr. Sulu! Fire!"

The white flash of the torpedoes came before he had even finished his sentence. The entire crew's timing and reflexes were tuned to perfection, and their torpedo fire was answered with a minor explosion at the battle cruiser's disrupter position.

A loud cheer rose from the bridge crew, but Spock's voice quickly cut through the clamor.

"Activate tractor beam," he ordered. "Mr. Chekov, locate the landing party and get their coordinates to the transporter room."

"Tractor beam on," Scott reported, pride and confidence dripping from his thick Scottish brogue.

"Mr. Chekov," Spock repeated. "Coordinates."

"Attempting to locate, Mr. Spock," the ensign replied, his fingers scrambling at the controls.

"Mr. Spock!" Sulu sounded concerned. "I'm picking up an overload in progress aboard the Klingon vessel."

"What sort of overload, Lieutenant?"

"Unknown, sir, but it's intensifying. Nearly at critical level now."

Scott studied the readings from his station. "It's their self-destruct mechanism, Mr. Spock! We have to get our tractor beam off that ship!"

Spock wasted no time. "Release tractor beam. Mr. Chekov, coordinates!" His voice was stern.

"I'm trying, Mr. Spock!" Chekov cried in frustration. "I can't get the..."

At that instant, they all knew it was too late. A blinding explosion of fire and light filled the viewscreen. The bridge fell deathly silent, its crew left staring helplessly at the drifting remnants of the battle cruiser.

The captain was gone.