Chapter Text
It couldn't be possible. Not only couldn't it be possible, it obviously was possible since it was there, right before his eyes. A blue box, materializing on to the Bridge. The Vulcan sprung into action, yanking his comm from where it had been secured on his belt. "Captain, we require your presence at the bridge immediately." He reported, voice just as calm and level as ever.
Back at the medical bay, the Captain heard Spock's words, taking his own comm and placing it to his lips. "What is it? Bones needs my help up here right now. More headaches coming in." He replied, letting out a gentle sigh to pinch the bridge of his nose. There were already six people in medbay with reports of migraines and headaches, some cases being worse than others. Jim had experienced a couple himself, and he found that aspirin hardly ever helped.
Spock straightened up to his full height as he observed the box, making sure that there wouldn't be any other activity in relation to it. "There is some sort of ship here. A box. I do not understand how it arrived. Shields are at one hundred percent and the box was not transported. It is not possible for the box to be here, Captain."
Sighing, Jim looked to Bones, his expression somewhat frustrated. "Alright, I'll be right down." He replied to his communicator before turning off the volume and replacing it on his belt. "Sorry. Sounds like they've got some weird stuff going on. Better go check it out. Something about a box." He supplied to the doctor, who gave him a gentle nod, brushing the Captain off with a dismissive wave of his hand. Before he left, Jim made a pit stop to pop a couple aspirin into his mouth, along with a small drink of water. They really needed to figure out where all of these headaches were coming from. It wasn't just a couple people anymore, it was almost the whole crew. Not all at once, of course. It would be a couple of people at a time, usually three or four. Today was a bit odd, having six. Well, seven now if Jim was including himself in the count. At least he'd caught the ache early. It was just starting to prickle under his hairline, a gentle pain that he hoped the medication could deal with if he was proactive and caught it early. He rubbed at his eyes, giving out yet another sigh as he walked down the white, sterile hallways to the bridge. As he neared his destination, he noticed that there was a faint hum of noise coming from behind the entrance. Growing slightly worried, Jim quickly punched in the access code. What if something really had gone wrong?
The Commander worked as best he could under the circumstances. He was able to handle the box on it's own, still able to remain in control of himself and the urge to change the illogical into logical. He was getting along fine, edging closer and closer to the box as he and the rest of the crew awaited the arrival of the Captain. One crew member, Lieutenant Uhura, stepped away from her post, walking toward the box, her expression full of the confusion that the Vulcan was currently internalizing. "Lieutenant, I would suggest that you remain on standby. We do not know the origin of this vehicle, it would be best that we analyze it before all attempts at establishing contact." He informed, lifting a hand out of warning. He knew that she was required to obey due to his rank, but he kept his gaze, wanting to reassert his claims, to make them more obvious and solid to her. After a moment, she backed away, the box looming over all of the bridge members. Going against his better judgement, Spock reached out a tentative hand, wanting to be certain that the box was really there. No sooner had his fingertips grazed the dried, cracked blue paint, but the door swung open. With no hesitation, Spock's hand was on his Phaser, poised at the man who'd emerged. "Lieutenant Uhura, call security to have them on standby. Sir, put your hands above your head and state your name, rank, and intention."
This exchange was the noise that Jim had heard from the other side of the door. "What the hell is going on here?" He demanded.