Chapter Text
This is a terrible idea.
The captain’s words rang through Spock’s head as if his friend were there himself, his voice overshadowing the loud thunder and rain everywhere around the Vulcan. Spock could even recall the look of utter worry Kirk had given him when he’d first proposed the plan. That hadn’t stopped him, though, or else he wouldn’t have been stuck in his current situation.
This is a suicide mission, Spock. You can’t seriously be considering this!
Kirk had tried unbelievably hard to stop Spock from making this decision—the logical decision—but everyone aboard the Enterprise had known this was the only way. Although Spock was starting to see that his captain had been right.
Spock forced his eyes to open, which took more strength than the Vulcan was willing to admit, and was immediately faced by the wreckage around him. The unnatural darkness made it hard to see anything, even with his outstanding vision, but the harsh rain beating on his face and the occasional burst of lightning told him all he needed to know—the shuttle had crashed; he was stranded.
The U.S.S. Enterprise had first come to this class M planet to follow Starfleet’s emergency orders. A yet unexplained storm had appeared as though it came from nowhere, and according to imprecise calculations, it would last months, maybe even years. Without help of the Federation, that would mean certain death to the planet’s inhabitants. The storm would flood the entire planet.
The Enterprise had been the closest starship, the other nearest cruiser still being two weeks out.
There was no way the inhabitants could beam aboard the starship—Spock and Kirk had already gone through the list. First and foremost, these aliens were a pre-warp civilization, which meant letting them know of their existence would break the Prime Directive. Secondly, there wouldn’t be enough space aboard the Enterprise for all civilians. It wasn’t built for the resettlement of colonists. Lastly, the huge storm made it extremely risky for anyone to beam up or down.
It had seemed impossible to help the planet’s inhabitants, but then the Vulcan had an idea.
Spock had a way of neutralizing the storm: a scientific experiment he’d worked on together with Dr. Mordreaux, his old Academy professor, as a means to keep busy while the Enterprise was in drydock, conducting repairs. Although the machine wasn’t fully finished yet, Spock would know how to activate it. He had immediately proposed the idea of activating the machine to his captain, who Spock knew trusted him enough to let him do this, but there was a minor complication in the plan.
To get the machine to work, Spock would need to be right in the middle of the storm.
Kirk had immediately abandoned the idea after that, but Spock couldn’t let these civilians die knowing he could’ve saved them. He knew what it was like losing your home planet.
“The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” Spock had logically reminded his captain, who’d just glared at his first officer in return.
Spock had eventually managed to convince Kirk, getting into a shuttle with an expert pilot to navigate Spock down onto the planet. The pilot had directed the shuttle right into the middle of the storm and Spock was able to activate his machine, which appeared to be working properly—in a couple of minutes, the storm would lessen and the planet would be saved.
However, even the expertise of this pilot hadn’t been enough to prepare them for the extreme conditions of the storm on the way back. They’d almost been out of the storm’s reach when a piece of debris hit the right side of the shuttle, damaging the engine and making it spin out of control. The Vulcan couldn’t actually remember crashing; one second the shuttle had been damaged, the other Spock was lying on the ground. That brought him to his current situation.
Spock tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his shoulder stopped him from moving even an inch. It was then that he realized his entire left arm was pinned to the ground by the wreckage. He hadn’t realized because the feeling in his arm was mostly gone—how long had he been laying here?
He moved his head to try to see more of what was going on around him, and spotted Mr. Cohen, the shuttle’s pilot, his body practically torn in half by the force of the crash. Spock deduced that the only reason he himself was still alive was because he had been seated at the very back of the small shuttle at the time of the crash, willing his communicator to work so he could inform his captain of his success.
Now that Spock was fully conscious again, not only did he begin to feel the pain in his left arm, but he also realized that there was water beginning to pile up around him, the freezing cold biting at his skin. The massive rocks and pieces of debris around him stopped the water from flowing down the hill, instead slowly rising where Spock was still pinned to the ground.
With a bit of a start, he realized that if he couldn’t free himself from underneath the wreckage in time, he would most certainly drown.
Spock automatically reached for his phaser, with which he’d be able to burn his way through the wreckage, but it wasn’t on his belt like it was supposed to be; the weapon had probably become detached during the crash. Spock wildly searched for the weapon, but soon realized it wasn’t anyway near him, and neither was the communicator he had been holding in the shuttle.
Taking a small moment to try and recollect himself, Spock calmly calculated the time he had until the water would be risen high enough to drown him. The result did not, however, calm him in the slightest. He only had 2.96 minutes. Another calculation revealed that the storm would most likely pass in 5.15 minutes. Too late.
The uncomfortable tightening in his chest and the sudden laboring of his breathing were two things Spock blamed his human side for; the two were a reaction to the illogical panic the Vulcan was feeling. He hadn’t expected to feel so much emotion at the thought of dying, and logically speaking, he shouldn’t feel scared for something so inevitable, yet Spock couldn’t care less about logic in the current situation.
He didn’t want to die.
The only hope Spock had was stuck tightly onto the back of his shoulder, beeping ever so quietly. Before the Vulcan got into the shuttle, Kirk had insisted on placing the tracker on his uniform in case something were to happen to him, and never before had Spock been so glad about a decision his captain had made.
“Anybody!” Spock yelled out when the water had reached his ears, only barely able to hear his voice above the loud sounds of the storm. “Please!”
Never in his life had he felt as helpless as right now, as he could feel the water rising further and further, until he could no longer take any more staggered breaths. Although the water muffled all the sounds around him, the ringing in Spock’s head was almost deafening and the Vulcan swore he could feel his heart beat in his side.
He was drowning.
Spock used his free hand to start clawing at the wreckage that pinned him down, and although he knew that he wasn’t strong enough to free himself, he kept clawing and pushing wildly, even as he felt blood seeping out from underneath his nails. The panic blocked out the pain.
He hadn’t realized someone was there with him until his wrist was grabbed tightly and pulled away from the wreckage. A bright, red light that Spock recognized as one of a phaser blinded him through the water, and he could feel heat near his left arm.
Just as Spock was about to run out of oxygen, his eyelids already starting to close, the weight on his arm was removed and two hands at his shoulders quickly pulled him up and out of the water. Spock coughed uncontrollably, spitting water on the ground that had found its way into his lungs, and clung tightly onto the two arms that were holding him up.
After what seemed like minutes of coughing and heaving, Spock realized his eyes were still closed and he slowly opened them to be faced by two familiar blue ones.
“Spock? Can you hear me?” Kirk asked, seemingly having called out multiple times already, yet Spock had not heard him before. “You scared the hell out of me, I thought we’d lost you.”
Spock found himself unable to speak and instead just pulled himself closer to Kirk, trembling in the captain’s hold.
“It’s okay, I got you,” Kirk muttered, his hand finding its way to Spock’s soaked, raven hair. “I got you.”
Kirk gave Spock a moment to recollect himself. The Vulcan still did not attempt to speak, but his trembling had ceased significantly. The sky above the two opened up, revealing the bright sun, and Kirk grabbed his communicator, his hold on Spock never faltering.
“Scotty, two to beam up. Bring us straight to sickbay.”