Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Leonard stepped into the turbolift, sipping his coffee. Sickbay was quiet, thanks to everyone being on their best behavior and a distinct lack of recent away missions. No pathogens, no injuries, no patients. It was just the way a starship should be.

Which meant it was unbelievably boring.

Leonard had cataloged everything, checked his various experiments were running smoothly and, knowing Jim was due back from Deep Space Two any minute, headed to the bridge. The turbolift arrived with its usual efficiency. Stepping out, Leonard saw Spock in the captain’s chair, the bridge a hive of quiet, focused work. It was always quieter when Jim wasn’t onboard. Spock, unsurprisingly, didn’t have Jim’s knack for small talk.

Speaking of the devil…

“Commander, Captain Kirk’s shuttle just appeared on sensors,” Chekov said from his station.

“Thank you, Ensign. Lieutenant Uhura, hail the captain and inform him Shuttle Bay One is ready to receive him,” Spock said.

“Aye, sir,” she replied, turning back to her panel.

Three days of peace and quiet were surely about to come to an end. Not that Leonard would mind. The ship felt smaller without her captain. Jim had attended a meeting on Deep Space Two, handing over new star charts the Enterprise had mapped. There’d also been updates from Starfleet regarding the Klingons and the Romulans, updates too sensitive not to be delivered in person. Jim had gone alone, insisting he had nothing to worry about security-wise. “It’s Starfleet I’m meeting with, not a hostile alien species.”

Jim had never quite outgrown his overconfident streak. Leonard had shaken his head and reminded Jim Starfleet could be worse than any of their alien encounters, including the Gorn. Spock had argued that complacency was a sure way for Jim to suffer a breach of his personal safety. Leonard, to his shock, found himself in very vocal agreement with Spock, and the pair of them attempted to convince Jim to take a security officer. Jim, apparently amused by this unprecedented agreement between his CMO and his First Officer, ignored both of them and went to the three-day event solo.

It struck Leonard that Jim just wanted to spend some time alone. He never got the chance aboard the Enterprise. Not really.

“Commander,” Uhura’s troubled voice filled the bridge. She seemed too loud, even though her voice was pitched as it always was. “I’m not getting any response.”

Leonard turned to her. “Nothing at all?”

“Likely a malfunction,” Spock said. He turned to an ensign monitoring the ship’s sensors. “Are you picking anything up, Ensign Polari?”

They shook their head. “Nothing unexpected. The captain’s shuttle appears to be fully functional. No damage, and I am picking up on the captain’s lifesigns.” They glanced at Leonard. “I believe they are well within normal parameters.”

Leonard looked over the readout himself. “Ensign Polari is correct. It doesn’t look like there’s anything to worry about.” He felt his vague unease settling. “Medically speaking, that is.”

“Something’s not right,” Sulu said. “He’s coming in way too fast.”

“Hail him,” Spock ordered.

“I have and we are broadcasting,” Uhura replied. “There’s no response.”

“Raise shields,” Spock said. “Mr Sulu, move us to a safe distance.”

“Aye sir,” Sulu said, his hands moving quickly across the helm’s controls.

“Sir,” Ensign Polari called. “The shuttle’s shields are inactive. You could beam someone aboard.”

“An excellent suggestion,” Spock said. He activated the captain’s chair comm unit. “Bridge to Engineering. Commander Scott, report to the transporter room one. We need to beam you to the captain’s shuttle. There may be a malfunction.”

“Aye, Commander. I’m on my way,” Scott replied.

“I’m going too,” Leonard said. He didn’t care what Jim’s biosigns said. “Better safe than sorry with Jim.”

“Agreed. Hurry, Doctor,” Spock said.

Restraining the urge to fire off a snappy response, Leonard ran to the transporter room. He grabbed a portable medkit off the wall, checking its contents and ensuring none of the drugs were anything Jim might be allergic to. Stepping onto the transporter pad, he waited for Scott to arrive. He did so moments later, took one look at Leonard and frowned. “Something wrong with Jim?” he asked, stepping onto the transporter pad.

“No idea,” Leonard said. “But you know with him.”

“Aye. Never met a day he couldn’t turn into trouble.”

The transporter chief beamed them across space into Jim’s shuttle before Leonard could reply.

The shuttle was clearly in one very solid, very perfectly functioning piece. Jim was there in the pilot’s seat, his back to them.

“Jim?” Leonard called.

Jim didn’t reply.

Leonard moved to his side. Jim was unconscious, slumped against the pilot’s seat. Leonard eased him onto the deck while Scott reached for the helm’s controls and broke off their collision course.

“Jim, wake up!” Leonard shouted. He dug a knuckle into Jim’s sternum.

Nothing. Not even a flicker. Swearing under his breath, Leonard pulled out his tricorder and started scanning.

“He okay?” Scott asked

“Aside from being unconscious, he’s fine,” Leonard said, staring at the tricorder’s readout. Everything was well within Jim’s usual parameters. No toxins, no injuries, no allergic reactions. Nothing. He was just out cold and totally non-responsive. “Dammit,” he breathed. What the hell was wrong with Jim that was this undetectable?

“Let’s get the shuttle docked,” Scott said. “We can run scans. See if the sensors picked up something that’s caused this.”

“Right.” Leonard looked down at Jim. What had he missed?

Three hours and all manner of scans and samples later, Jim slept on in sickbay, still with a diagnosis of being absolutely, undeniably fine. There was nothing wrong with him.

Nothing wrong with the shuttle either, according to Scott. He hadn’t finished going over the sensor logs yet, but so far, he had nothing that would cause Jim’s prolonged unconsciousness.

“What d’you think?” Leonard asked M’Benga as the other man studied the results. They stood at Jim’s bedside, looking down at him.

M’Benga looked up from the PADD. “I think given the complete lack of any kind of pathogen or injury, we should administer a stimulant to bring him around.”

“Agreed,” Leonard said. “Let’s try it.”

He slid a stimulant cartridge into the hypospray, dialing in the dosage amount. He pressed it against Jim’s neck and administered the dose. M’Benga kept his eyes on the readouts. Not that he needed to. Jim stirred, frowning in his sleep.

“You with us, Jim?” Leonard called.

Jim rolled off his side and onto his back. His eyes cracked open, hands flailing to block out the light.

“Lights, forty per cent,” M’Benga ordered. The lights dimmed immediately.

“C’mon, Jim, talk to us,” Leonard said.

Jim blinked heavily. “Bones?” he asked, speech slurring. “Where’m I?”

“Sickbay,” Leonard said. “Kinda hoping you can tell us what happened.”

Jim was already drifting out again. “Stimulant’s not gonna hold him,” M’Benga said. “He’s metabolizing it too fast.” He glanced at Leonard. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It shouldn’t be possible.”

“What the hell?” Leonard muttered. He glanced at the readout and saw how fast the drug was working its way out of Jim’s system. It was like his whole body was operating faster than usual… and yet he couldn’t keep himself awake. “I’ll give him another dose and then we’ll need to find something else.” He dosed Jim again. “Okay, Jim, we don’t have much time before you’re asleep again. You need to tell us what happened so we can figure this thing out.”

Jim looked slightly more awake. “I was in a shuttle. Leaving the conference?”

“Yeah, exactly. You would’ve left ten hours ago. You’ve been in sickbay for two of those,” Leonard said. “Think hard. Did anything happen? Anything unusual?”

“Uh… I…” Jim’s eyes drifted away.

Leonard reached over, gripping Jim’s chin and turning his head. “Stay with us just a little longer, okay? Fight it. You need to think about the shuttle, remember if anything happened.”

“I can’t – ” Jim twisted, frustration tensing his muscles. “Why can’t I think?”

“I don’t know,” Leonard said. “But we’re working on it.”

“Dammit,” Jim growled. “I can’t… can’t keep my eyes…” His eyes dimmed. “Bones, I’m so, so ti –”

“Uh, Leonard? I think we might have a problem.”

“You’ve got something on a scan?” Leonard asked, not wanting to take his eyes off Jim. Not yet. “C’mon, Jim, stay with me.”

“Look to your left,” M’Benga said, his voice one of whispered awe.

Leonard did what he was told. “What the fuck?”

Because there was a supply cart beside Jim’s biobed.

And it was floating.

“It’s him,” M’Benga said. He had a tricorder open and scanning Jim. “I’m seeing brain activity that should not be there.”

“Are we talking telekinesis?” Leonard asked.

“At the very least,” M’Benga said. “He’s gonna pass out again in seconds. The stim isn’t gonna hold.”

The cart hit the deck with a bang. Jim exhaled softly, eyes glazed. Leonard grabbed his hand, squeeze. “No, Jim. Stay with us!”

Jim’s face lit up in a dopey, drunken smile. He reached out, his hand touching Leonard’s cheek. “S’fine, Bones. ‘m fine. I can…” He yawned. “I remember. Anomaly. Space.” His voice faded as sleep reclaimed him. “I scanned…”  

He was out again.

Leonard hit the comm. “Sickbay to Scott.”

“Scott here.”

“Check the shuttle’s scanners for a spatial anomaly.” Leonard watched M’Benga setting up for further brain scans. “I think you’ll find your answers there.”

“Got it. I’ll get Commander Spock down here too. I’ll keep you posted. Scott out.”

Leonard looked at M’Benga. “How long ‘til we have a better picture?”

“An hour, now I know what to look for,” M’Benga answered. “But I have a working theory.”

“Let’s hear it,” Leonard said.

“Whatever changes are occurring within his brain and neural chemistry to allow for the telekinesis is causing such a strain, his body’s coping by making him sleep. We were confused as to why his readings were normal but he was out cold. Except his ‘normal’ isn’t enough for this level of activity anymore.”

Leonard nodded. It was a good, sound theory. “What we need to figure out is if it’s permanent and if it’s gonna cause serious brain damage.” Leonard kept his eyes on Jim’s biosigns. If anything, his body showed more exhaustion now. And it was a real concern that Jim’s standard biological readings weren’t enough for him to maintain consciousness. “For now, we’ll treat him how we’d treat anyone suffering from extreme over-exertion.” Leonard forced himself to stay focused on his professionalism. He couldn’t let himself be overwhelmed by the what ifs and the maybes right now. “You run the scans. I’m gonna head down to the shuttle bay, see what they’re getting from the sensors myself.”

“Got it,” M’Benga said. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Damn right we will,” Leonard said. “Can you imagine the menace we’ll be unleashing upon the galaxy if Jim has telekinetic abilities for the rest of his life?”

“The universe shudders at the thought,” M’Benga said with a grin.

“Let me know if anything changes,” Leonard said. “Good or bad.”

“You got it,” M’Benga replied.

Trusting M’Benga and the rest of the team to take care of Jim, Leonard hurried down to the shuttle bay.

By the time Leonard arrived, Spock and Scotty were staring at the shuttle’s scan results on a large screen. And unless he’d really forgotten everything he’d ever learned about chemistry, what Leonard saw was proof of several new elements of unknown origin.

“Hope y’all are gonna give me some good news,” Leonard said, unable to tear his eyes off the screen. “Because that’s causing me some concern.”

“Doctor McCoy,” Spock said, turning to face him. “How is the captain?”

“Strange,” Leonard said. He could see Spock’s next question and cut him off at the pass. “We managed to rouse him briefly with a heavy-duty stimulant and he exhibited an unexpected flair for telekinesis before he passed out again. We have no idea what’s caused it or what the long term impacts could be.”

“Fascinating,” Spock said. “We have surmised the shuttle did indeed run into a spatial anomaly. It appears to contain not only a number of new, previously undetected elements, but also a form of radiation, that, given what you have told us, could induce brain wave distortions in humanoids.”

Brain wave distortions? Leonard already knew that. “Is it still out there? This anomaly?”

“Scans from the Enterprise can no longer detect it, suggesting it has dispersed,” Spock said. “I have asked Lieutenant Uhura to check with Deep Space Two to see if they have observed the phenomena, and if so, to pass on any readings or studies they have on it. Doing so may help us understand what has happened to the captain.”

“Do you expect to get anything else out of the shuttle’s sensors?” Leonard asked Scott.

“Actually, we were about to check the log. It seems the captain was in the middle of making one when he was distracted by this anomaly.” Scott tapped his way through the computer’s options. “Got it. Ready?”

They gathered around the console as Jim’s voice played out. “Captain’s Log, Stardate 2264.287. The meetings went well. Deep Space Two’s construction is coming along well, which is comforting given they’re gonna be our nearest neighbor for the time being. I kinda like that we’re leaving space stations in our wake. Like stepping stones between the known and the uncharted.”

“The captain appeared to be in a philosophical frame of mine,” Spock said.

Jim wasn’t finished. “I was able to hand over a lot of useful information, as well as catch up on the latest goings on in the ‘Fleet, including plans to create another deep space station similar to the Yorktown.” Jim chuckled. “Another snow globe in space.”

“Your way with words is clearly memorable,” Spock said.

Leonard’s heart squeezed. Trust Jim to remember.

“I also have our next mission. A probe sent out from Deep Space Two detected an unknown vessel, or possibly an alien space station, in the area the Enterprise is currently charting. It’s in a large field of what appears to be asteroids. It should prove interesting and –” An alarm sounded. “Hmm, looks like I’m picking up some kind of distortion in subspace. It might be some kind of transmission. I can’t track the source.” The sound of the computer being accessed filled the air for a brief moment. “I’m locking on with sensors, but I can see it too… Oh, wow!” Jim gasped. Actually gasped. “Looks like a sunset in space. It’s pretty beautiful, actually.”

“He sounds off,” Scott said. “Like he’s been at the moonshine. Ah! Which totally, absolutely, does not exist on this ship, Commander Spock.”

“Duly noted,” Spock replied.

“Shh!” Leonard snapped.

“I can’t… Can’t take my eyes off it.” Jim’s words were slurred now. “It’s… it’s incredible.”

Proximity alerts sounded out, followed by a giggle. Despite everything, Leonard couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. Jim sounded adorable, like an excitable child. Or that one time in the Academy they accidentally got super high off Andorian spiced weed. “Whoa. The readings off this thing! They’re incredible! I’m picking up radiation… not tachyons but not far off… Huh. I feel… uh, I feel kinda super drunk. Good drunk right now. Sorta floaty. Wait. Am I high? High on a spatial anomaly? That’s gonna be fun to… to…” A groan hit the air. “Damn. My head. Ah! It hurts. A lot. Gonna reverse engines and… Huh? Who… Who’s there? I can’t…”

A thud filled the air. The log kept recording until the computer, realizing no one had spoken for five minutes, timed out.

“This was recorded only ten minutes after he’d left Deep Space Two,” Scott said. “It means he was unconscious for hours before we met him.”

“We need to know everything about that anomaly,” Leonard said. “And if there was someone else aboard the shuttle.”

“I’ll run a DNA scan, see if there’s any unknown genetic material aboard,” Spock said.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, gentlemen, but is there any chance Jim was just out of his head?” Scott asked.

“It is a distinct possibility,” Spock said. “For now, we will consider every eventuality. For example, it seems a visual element had a potentially hypnotic effect on the captain.”

“That image is stored in the shuttle’s computer,” Scotty said.

“We should take care before accessing it,” Spock said. “Lest it have a similar effect on others.”

“Agreed,” Leonard said. “Let’s not mess up anyone else’s brain chemistry. Not while we haven’t got a grip on Jim’s.”

“We will be careful,” Spock said.

“Still, this could be something to go on,” Leonard said. “If the spatial anomaly needed both a chemical element and the visuals to go with it, and there’s a chance there was an intruder aboard the shuttle, we at least have an idea of the cause. All we need to know now is the cure.”

“I will update you should we learn anything pertinent to the captain’s recovery,” Spock said.

“Great, thanks. I gotta get back to sickbay. And don’t let anything warp your minds, please,” Leonard said.

“No more than it already is, Doc,” Scott replied.

Chapter Text

A pulsing beat dragged Jim back into the waking world. He shot upright, heart pounding, mind consumed with the idea he’d forgotten something. Something critically important.

Alarms. In the shuttle.

Something in space.

Something crawling into his head.

Jim was off the bed before he realized it was a biobed and ow, he tore a catheter out of his vein. Footsteps came running and he looked to the door in time to see Bones entering the room.

The sickbay room. Where Jim was. Because this wasn’t the shuttle and it wasn’t his quarters either. “Bones? What’s happening?”

“Dammit, Jim, get your ass back on that bed or so help me I will knock you back out and tie you to it.”

Jim held up his hands. “How did I get here?” And then another question came to him. “When did I get here?” A sharp pain shot through his head. He pressed a hand to his temple, desperately trying to massage the ache away.

“Sit down for me, and I’ll explain everything.” Bones caught sight of the dislodged IV. “And put pressure on that until I can fix it.”

“I don’t need to sit, I – ” But the pain was increasing, the headache rapidly escalating. “Okay, maybe you’re right.”

“Maybe I’m right,” Bones muttered.

Jim sat himself down. Moments later, he had to lay back. “Computer, lights ten per cent.”

The computer followed orders.

“Gonna give you something for the headache,” Bones said. “Then I’ll explain your latest misadventure.”

“Misadventure?” Jim frowned. “Wasn’t I at Deep Space Two?”

“Yeah, except it looks like you found a pretty interesting, one of a kind spatial anomaly on your way back to the Enterprise.”

“Oh, crap,” Jim breathed. Eyes closed, he pictured it. “A sunset in space.”

“Whatever it was, it knocked you out cold for forty-eight hours.”

“What? Ah!” The snap hiss of a hypospray sent a cascade of pain relief rushing through him. He sank into the biobed in relief. “Two days?”

“Yeah, but that’s, uh, that’s not the really major issue.” Bones grabbed his arm and ran the dermal regenerator over it.

“It isn’t?”

“Your brain chemistry is off the charts. You’ve developed… abilities.”

Jim stared at him. “Abilities?”

“Yeah. We had to put you in here because it’s the only room in sickbay where everything’s nailed to the deck.” Bones deactivated the regenerator. “You’ve kept us busy.”

His head hurt too much for this. “Bones, I am begging you to start making sense.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. While you’ve slept, you’ve demonstrated uncontrolled telekinetic powers.” Bones said it all with a completely straight face.

Jim absolutely could not have heard him right. “Come again?”

Bones pulled out his tricorder. “Get this off me without physically touching it.”

“You’re being weird,” Jim said. Was he dreaming? Had he woken up in the wrong universe? It wouldn’t be the first time. The Bones he knew wasn’t one to play elaborate pranks.

And Bones still looked deadly serious. “Jim, you managed to lift the entirety of sickbay’s staff off their feet at 0200 in your sleep.”

A flicker of a dream rushed across Jim’s mind in which the ship lost gravity. “I did?”

“Yeah, you did,” Bones said. “I’m blaming you for the ones who lost control of their digestive systems.”

“Sorry,” Jim said. But if his dreams could play out in reality, that spoke of a worrying inability to control himself. He could really hurt people if he wasn’t careful.  

“Relax,” Bones said. “I need you to see what you can do now you’re awake and in control.”

Jim shook his head. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Humor me.” Bones backed away, waggling the tricorder. “C’mon.”

Shaking off the weirdness, Jim looked at the tricorder. He didn’t know what to do or what to expect. He pictured it lifting off Bones’ hand, floating across the isolation room.

It didn’t move.

“Told you,” Jim said. This was ridiculous. “I – ”

But he felt it. Gathering. In his head. A feeling, like fingers dancing over his scalp, ready to reach out and grab anything.

Everything.

“Jim? You alright over there?”

“Shh.” The feeling hooked onto the tricorder. Jim pulled. The tricorder came over without him touching it.

He just brought Bones along with it.

The tricorfer hit the deck. Bones managed to get his feet beneath him just in time, catching himself on the biobed. “Think that answers that question,” he muttered.

“Holy shit, did I just do that?” Jim gasped. He knew he had. He could feel it in the tingle in his head. The sensation dropped back. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jim.” Bones reached out for him, his hand resting on his shoulder. “Take a breath. Relax. You haven’t hurt anyone.”

But he could. He could hurt people if he didn’t get a grip on this. “How is this possible?”

“The how is a little complicated,” Bones said. “From what we can tell, the anomaly you encountered in the shuttle changed your brain chemistry significantly. We’re fairly certain it’s limited to telekinesis, but if you start picking up on people’s thoughts or feelings, let me know immediately. Spock is pretty keen on teaching you control methods if anything like that happens.”

Thoughts? Feelings? Jim didn’t want to accidentally violate anyone’s privacy like that. “Yeah, sure.” He rubbed his head.

“Headache?”

That wasn’t the right word for what Jim felt. “No. Just feel weird. But nothing hurts, promise.”

“Promise me you’ll let me know the second anything feels wrong. We’re in uncharted territory here and I don’t want to risk you having an aneurysm,” Bones said. “Your body is adapting, but the human brain ain’t built for this kinda output.”

“Sure.”

“And this is important too: do you remember anyone else being aboard the shuttle? We heard your log. It sounded like you thought someone was with you. Scans didn’t pick up any alien DNA, but that’s not to say you were alone.”

Jim shook his head. He didn’t really remember anything after leaving Deep Space Two.

“Okay. We’ll worry about it later,” Bones said, sounding like he was already worrying.

“Uh huh.” Jim’s eyes roved around the room, looking for something else to try out his newfound ability on. The hands in his brain ran over every surface, tugging uselessly. Dammit. He couldn’t get the feeling to rise up again. He stretched, feeling the satisfying feeling of joints popping and crunching. “Do I have to stay here?”

“As much as I’d love to keep you here, there’s no medical reason,” Bones said. “Just take a shower before you head to the mess hall for food.”

“You’re actually letting me go?” Jim asked. Now he really did worry. “We sure this isn’t just some parallel universe I’ve woken up in?”

“Don’t test my lenience, Jim. I could change my mind in a heartbeat,” Bones said. “Besides, Spock wants you in the lab as soon as you’re ready, so I’m not letting you go so much as sharing custody,” he added with a wicked grin.

Shaking his head, Jim slid off the biobed. “I’m using your shower.”

“Good. Your uniform’s waiting. But I’m serious about eating. This whole new brain chemistry thing requires a lot of energy to maintain. You’re burning through calories at an incredible rate. We were really struggling to keep up with you.”

Jim’s stomach gave a loud growl. “Don’t worry, I will.”

“And when you’re finished with Spock, you better go straight to your quarters. If I even think you’re within an inch of the bridge, I’ll relieve you from duty until your brain’s back to normal. You’re on restricted duties. I don’t mind you monitoring everything from your quarters, but until we have a grip on this, you need to stay away from anything that could cause additional stress.” Bones looked at him, worry plain to see on his face. “We don’t know the long-term effects of this. You need to be careful.”

“I will.” Jim reached over, squeezing Bones’ hand.

Bones squeezed back. “You better be.”

“And if it gets out of hand, I’ll call you,” Jim said.

“Guess that’s the best I can ask for,” Bones said.

Smiling, Jim abandoned the bed and slid into sickbay’s small shower room. There, he found countless items to float while washing off two days of sleep. His control was… well, it wasn’t great. He spent more time cleaning up than he did experimenting. Everything moved too fast, too violently. It took a lot of focus to stay in control of just one thing at a time and trying left him exhausted and dizzy. He was so hungry he felt hollow with it, which wasn’t helping the light-headedness. He stepped out of the shower, faint from a combination of the heat, his hunger, and his experimentation.

Food. He definitely needed food.

An hour and a huge meal later, Jim stood in the ship’s lab. Spock wasn’t there yet; he’d been held up on the bridge. Something about the immense debris field in their path, one Chekov wanted to make sure they safely navigated their way through. Jim recalled talk on Deep Space Two of an asteroid field, but it looked like it was larger than anticipated. Either way, he trusted Chekov and Sulu to see them through, and knew Spock would bring him an update when he could.

Besides, having a few more moments to himself gave Jim a chance to practice on something larger than a tiny bottle of shower gel. Steering well clear of the lab’s sensitive equipment, Jim focused his efforts on a chair. The rest of the lab faded from view as he carefully, gently, lifted it off the ground. He did it a few times until he felt a flicker of light-headedness. He released the chair.

And then quickly sat in it before he fell over. He bent over, putting his head between his legs. The floaty feeling faded as suddenly as it had washed over him. Sitting back up, he took a deep breath.

Okay. He could definitely do it. He could even control it. It was just going to take practice. Like all things in life.

The door slid open and Spock walked in. “Captain,” he greeted. “It’s good to see you awake.”

“It’s good to be awake,” Jim replied. “Can’t believe I slept for two days. Did I miss anything?”

“Nothing noteworthy other than your current condition. We are headed towards a space station, one you mentioned in your log.”

“The one Deep Space Two’s probe picked up on?” Jim asked.

“Correct. The debris field is making it more complicated than originally anticipated. We underestimated its size.”

Jim sat up straighter, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he still felt dizzy from exertion. “Is the ship okay? Can the hull take it?”

“Despite the density of the objects on our current trajectory, the hull is of no concern. Ensign Chekov believes he has charted a suitable course through it,” Spock said. “We have spoken with the personnel at Deep Space Two and reviewed a number of historic reports from the area of space you encountered the anomaly. Many discuss the sight of a sunrise in space and the radiation readings, but only one other person reported an experience like yours. A year ago, a Betazoid engineer working on the construction of Deep Space Two flew a shuttle toward the anomaly to pick up better sensor readings. They were asleep for two days, and when they awoke, they found their natural telepathic abilities had expanded exponentially. They frequently struggled for control.”

“Was it a permanent transformation?” Jim asked. Because that sounded like his idea of hell.

“No. The effect wore off after a month and the crewmember returned to their previous abilities,” Spock said. “However, due to the nature of their telepathy and the expansion of it, they were forced into isolation to protect their sanity. They were rendered unable to keep the thoughts of anyone within a meter’s radius out of their own mind. It was also for the safety of others, as the crewmember unconsciously projected their thoughts into others’ minds.”

“I promise I’m not getting anything like that,” Jim said. “No one else’s thoughts or feelings are coming through. It’s just, y’know, this.” He demonstrated by yanking Spock’s communicator off his belt and catching it. A thrill went through him. He couldn’t stop the smile. “It’s pretty badass.”

Spock’s eyebrow betrayed his disagreement. “The Betazoid reportedly lost focus to the point that they were unable to carry out their duties long before they had to isolate to keep themselves and others safe,” Spock said.

“Understandable if they couldn’t get other people’s thoughts out of their head,” Jim said.

“Perhaps,” Spock said. “However, you should remain mindful that a similar condition could befall you.”

The idea of losing control and putting people in danger frightened Jim. His gut tightened with the idea. He had moved people in sickbay in his sleep after all. “If I lose control, I will isolate myself from the crew. Whatever it takes, Spock. Their safety is paramount.”

“Understood,” Spock said.

Shaking off the pessimistic visions, Jim changed the subject. “So, what can I help you with?” Spock wouldn’t have asked him down here without a purpose, and he didn’t want to sit in here catastrophizing.

“I am hoping you’ll be able to help reconstruct the incident. In your log, you mentioned a visual occurrence. We have extracted the images from the shuttle’s computer, and applied filters so it does not have any impact on anyone viewing it. I have theorized that it is as much a part of the effect as the unusual chemical readings the sensors detected. For the changes you have undergone to occur, everything must be present.”

“A sunset in space,” Jim said. Closing his eyes, he saw it again, in all its beauty. “Just the most beautiful light you can imagine. It looked like it was reflecting off water.” He felt his body sway. The invisible hands gathered, reaching out. “For a moment, I thought I was somewhere else. I –”

He remembered it so suddenly, it was like he was back in the shuttle. Light shining through the viewport, a feeling of complete serenity embracing him. He’d floated, wishing he could know the feeling forever, that maybe he might –

A gift for you so...

“Captain!”

Jim jolted out of his memory to see a lot of equipment floating around him. He knew he was holding it up, and he fought hard to keep it that way. It was hard to understand the sensation. His senses felt expanded, the items brushing against his mind the way a breath of air danced over his skin. The slightest drift in his thoughts and it would all fall to the ground. Starfleet wouldn’t be impressed to learn he’d destroyed fragile scientific equipment due to a loss of control.

“You must focus, Captain, and –”

Sweat speckled Jim’s brow. “Spock, stop. I can do this.” Concentrating hard, hands held out, Jim lowered everything to the ground. Feeling a distinct sensation of letting go, Jim found himself suddenly on the deck too, staring at the ceiling. His head pulsed with the strain, his heartbeat pounding so hard he thought he might throw up.

Spock’s face appeared above his own. “Breathe, Captain. Would you like me to inform Doctor McCoy of your condition?”

“Just give me a minute,” Jim said, hoping his head would settle. “Concentrating like that… it’s hard.”

“You appear unwell,” Spock said. “Perhaps a return to sickbay would be – ”

“Shhhh,” Jim said. He could feel himself swaying, felt bubbles rising inside him, up, up, up until they popped behind his eyes and –

“Stay where you are, Captain.” Spock’s voice came from above somewhere. Jim was only aware of the ceiling and the lights blaring down at him. “I will call Doctor McCoy.”

“Spock, wait!” He sat upright, wincing as his head thudded. “I’m okay. I just overdid it.”

“I am uncomfortable with keeping Doctor McCoy in the dark about this,” Spock said.

Taking a deep breath, Jim pulled himself to his feet. “There, see? I’m fine.” He swallowed hard. He felt hollowed out. Hungry, actually.

“I suggest you sit down if you insist upon remaining here,” Spock said.

Jim agreed and took a seat. “Okay, so, did any of what I said help?”

“Perhaps. Visuals transmitted at certain frequencies do have the capacity to adapt brainwaves,” Spock said. “That may account for the changes in your brain chemistry.”

“Transmitted?” Jim asked. “I thought I heard a voice speaking to me.” He’d heard it again… or remembered hearing it. “After that, the next thing I knew I was in sickbay.” He rubbed his head. He felt better already. “Sorry. I will control this.”

“Perhaps a simple meditative technique would help,” Spock said. “Your loss of control was peculiar. You appeared to be in a trace.”

“Did I?” Jim asked. “I was remembering something. Words. About… about a gift?” Whatever he’d remembered, it was already drifting away again.

“If that is the case, I suggest you do not attempt to remember anything else without supervision,” Spock said.

“Yeah, maybe.” Except it wouldn’t be that easy. Who could control what they did and didn’t remember like that? And Jim didn’t believe for a second that Vulcans managed that level of self-control. No, his bigger concern remained the danger could he be putting everyone in if he lost control of himself so easily. Maybe isolating himself would eventually be inevitable. Eyeing one of the tricorders Jim had accidentally dropped, he reached out to it. It flew into his waiting hand. “Have you got everything you can out of the logs and the shuttle?”

“No. There is further data to gather, and the science department is running computer models on the potential of the new elements you detected,” Spock said. “We are attempting to trace the origin of the anomaly.”

“Okay,” Jim said. “If Sulu and Chekov are certain they can handle getting the ship through the debris field, you can examine the anomaly to your heart’s content. Bring in as many people as you need.”

“Thank you, Captain, but I do not do this for my ‘heart’s content’ as you say. Rather, it is to explore the unknown and learn all we can about this phenomenon. Doctor McCoy has provided me with up to date brain scans and – ”

“Wait. My brain scans?”

Spock cocked his head. “Of course. You are the only one aboard affected by this.”

Jim discovered he was surprisingly uncomfortable with the idea of the crew looking at his brain. “Uh, they’re gonna be anonymized, right?”

“News travels fast on a starship,” Spock answered. “Your absence has been noticed.”

“Fine,” Jim said, hoping his dismay wasn’t too obvious. “Let your team know it’s my brain. Just promise me you’ll throw them in the brig should any of their jokes tip into insubordination.”

“As the human sense of humor often escapes me – ”

Jim held up both his hands. “Spock. Just do what you have to do.”

“Understood, Captain.”

Leaving Spock to summon his team, Jim abandoned the lab. As much as he wanted to go up to the bridge and make sure everything was alright, he knew better than to tempt the wrath of one Doctor Leonard H. McCoy. Instead, Jim swung by the mess hall again and grabbed a sandwich before heading to his quarters. Tempting though it was to just float the sandwich to himself, he used his hands. He didn’t need an audience if he keeled over again.

Back in his quarters, Jim made quick work of the sandwich. Bones wasn’t wrong about his appetite. It felt like he’d run a marathon. He couldn’t stop eating. Making himself a mug of tea, he settled himself at his desk.

And stared at everything around him.

Everything loose.

Everything not bolted down.

He shouldn’t.

Not so soon after the lab…

Except he couldn’t resist.

Plus he needed to work on his control.

He started small; a model of the Kelvin he kept in his quarters. He couldn’t suppress the childish pleasure he took from making his father’s ship zoom around. And it was getting easier, too. Like all things in life, practice made perfect. He was gaining control and maybe a little finesse too.

With everything becoming too easy, Jim decided to up the ante. He reached out, plucking books off the ground. It joined the model Kelvin, dancing through the air exactly as he wanted.

His head gave a warning throb. Jim guided the items back to where they belonged. He dropped onto his bed, hands coming up to rub away the ache. It slowly subsided, replaced by a hefty exhaustion.

Jim fell back. He was asleep before he could stop himself.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Jim experimented whenever he had the chance. He had a few slip ups, moments when his attention drifted and his telekinesis slipped his limited control. He woke up daily with personal belongings strewn across his quarters. Bones wasn’t happy about it when he came by every morning to check in on him.

“If I find a neuro-suppressant that works on this, I’ll be dosing you with it,” was his daily threat.

However, Jim definitely had bigger mishaps. He couldn’t apologize enough for his one-and-done food fight that left most of the crew in the mess hall wearing their breakfast. Bones had locked him down in sickbay for an entire morning after that, just to make sure he wasn’t about to blow a vessel in his brain. Jim hadn’t meant to do it; he’d been reading the reports on the debris field. Sensors detected huge amounts of natural and manufactured materials. Metals and plastics were mixed in with minerals typically found on M-Class planets… they couldn’t rule out that the debris field had, once upon a time, been a planet. They were days into the field and so far, there was no sign of finding an end to it. The thought of all that stuff surrounding them caught Jim’s imagination and… well…

Breakfast for morning wear.

So, stuck on restricted duties and soon to “be confined to quarters, Jim, I swear, if you cause anyone else burns when their coffee slaps them in the face”, he practiced wherever and whenever possible. He stretched his legs when visiting various departments (no, not the bridge, Bones) and catching up with the crew… He just practiced whenever the crew stepped out and left him alone in an area. He had plant pots dancing in the botany lab, a pile of dirty uniforms shooting through the sonic cleaners in the ship’s laundromat, and even raised a table and chairs when he found an unoccupied meeting room.

But while his endurance grew, his control lagged behind. He worked with a few of the natural psionics in the crew, taking tips, learning how weight wasn’t an issue when it came to telekinesis. What he could lift with his mind didn’t necessarily match what he could lift with his body. According to them, control came with practice. He was, they all told him, expecting way too much so soon in his telekinetic development.

It was worth the almost constant headache if he could get this under control. But it was more than that. It was like a need, a compulsion. He had to keep testing his ability the same way he had to keep breathing. That was why he spent the afternoon with the security team, working with Hendorff and his people to test potential combat situations. Not that he wanted to be in any, but at least the security officers could get some practice in. Jim discovered, much to his amazement, that throwing them around without touching them was easy. They came at him with all manner of training weapons, and he just thought them away.

It was, however, exhausting. After throwing around Hendorff’s fully padded officers around for a few hours, Jim took his leave when his head began to hurt so viciously, it messed with his eyesight and twisted his gut. The urge to keep practicing remained, but he was past his limits. On his way back to his quarters, he lost focus, and tripped up everyone standing around him.

“Sorry, sorry!” He said, helping up a blue-shirted ensign closest to him.

She grinned at him. “First breakfast, now this. I’m starting to think I’ve upset you, Captain.”

He couldn’t help smiling back. “You definitely haven’t, Ensign Sidartra.”

Drained by his efforts and his accidents, Jim retreated to his quarters. Even with the pulsing, gut-churning pain in his head and the exhaustion tugging him down, the itch was there, the need to keep trying, to push himself just a little bit more.

Practice more. Get stronger. Better. More powerful.

He’d stopped practicing in his quarters because there was nothing left to move that wasn’t bolted to the deck.

Could he tear something loose?

Something like his bed?

A voice in his head whispered about the regulations governing willful damage to starships… The voice didn’t overcome his curiosity. The louder voice telling him he needed to get in contact with Bones for some much needed painkillers was a little harder to ignore.

One more thing, then he’d call Bones.

There. A compromise.

Jim looked at the bed, pushing back against his exhaustion and the strain. He ignored the drumming beat of his headache and instead reached for the bed. He pulled. Hard.

And sent his bedding flying.

His bedding, and everything else in his quarters not bolted to the ground. Jim’s hands shot out and he caught everything before it could hit the ground again. He couldn’t stop the amazed chuckle. Okay, not what he’d planned, but not bad ei –

Scalding agony shot through his head, pulsing through his sinuses. Everything dropped out of the air as he fell to his knees, hands cradling his throbbing head. He retched, only to bring up acidic bile. Shit. He’d pushed it way too far. Pushed it, and lost control again.

He needed to call Bones. He’d promised. Jim owed Bones, owed the crew, honesty. Especially if he was going to keep having accidents that impacted them. He’d tripped ten people over just now, thrown breakfast over thirty; what if he’d lost control somewhere like engineering where people could fall and really hurt themselves? He pushed himself to his feet, his quarters spinning around him. Staggering to the comm unit, Jim fell against the bulkhead. It was the only thing keeping him upright. He activated the comm. “Kirk to Sickbay.”

“Sickbay here, Captain.” It was Nurse Chapel. “How can we help?”

“I, uh – ” A vicious flash of pain shot through his skull. Black spots bloomed across his vision. “I think I need Doctor McCoy.”

“He’s dealing with a patient right now. Can I help instead?”

Jim’s vision blacked out before he could answer.

He could see it again. The sunset in space. The shuttle faded around him, warmth suffusing him. There were sounds filling his ears, sounds like voices… like… like music… Singing? No… beeping…

“Jim?”

There was another voice. Different. Deeper.

“Open your eyes.”

No. Not yet. The image slipped. He needed to hold on, needed to hear…

A gift for you ….learn… betters.

“Jim!”

He jolted out of the dream to find Bones staring down at him. “I was –”

“Being a damn fool,” Bones said. “Being on restricted duties is not an excuse to do what you’ve been doing. Hendorff contacted me. Told me about the games y’all were playing. Said you seemed to be in pain when you left. Then you go and pass out on one of my nurses.”

“Forget about that,” Jim said. “I think I’m remembering more from the shuttle.” He tried to sit up, only for Bones to push him back down. Not that he needed to. The pain in Jim’s head was enough to put him back down. Thankfully, Bones was fast enough with a bowl when Jim vomited again.

“Migraine?” Bones asked, helping him to sip some water.

“Bad one,” Jim ground out.

“Believe it or not, your brain isn’t actually damaged,” Bones said.

“So what’s with the headache?” Jim asked. Even talking hurt. He closed his eyes to block out sickbay’s blinding lights.

Jim did not want to think about how he’d gotten here. He was back in the isolation room, too.

“Best answer I’ve got is it’s like a muscle strain,” Bones said, eyes on readouts above Jim’s head. “Same you’d get if you exercised harder than your body can really handle. And you’ve done way more than you can handle.”

“Gonna be okay?” Jim murmured.

“Yeah,” Bones said. “You gotta learn to stop pushing things. There’s no telling if this will become dangerous or not. This is your brain we’re talking about, Jim. There are limits to what we can heal.”

“You said there’s no damage,” Jim said.

“I did, but that’s not to say there won’t be.”

A cool hand rested over his forehead. Jim leaned into Bones’ touch. “Feels good.”

“I bet. You’re running a slight fever. At least I think you are. Maybe this is just the temperature you run at now you’ve got superpowers,” Bones muttered.

Jim didn’t feel so super right now.

Bones’ hand slipped away. “I’m gonna get you an icepack. You are gonna stay right here and sleep. No more making shit float around. It’s not as cool as you think it is.”

Jim couldn’t help it, couldn’t help the compulsion to keep pushing, keep experimenting. It felt natural to him. But this headache. It was something else. Like his skull might shake itself apart.

When Bones pressed a hypo to his neck, Jim didn’t complain. The flush of painkillers racing through his system brought so much relief he nearly cried. He kept his eyes firmly shut, even as tears of pain and relief forced their way through his lashes. A cool compress rested over his brow too, further chilling the headache.

“Think you can stay put for a while?” Bones asked.

Drowsy oblivion rushed over him, pulling Jim down. He fell back into sleep, through layers upon layers of dreams until…

Sunset in space.

It stole over him, a heavy, drunken feeling. He looked into the sunset, felt incredible peace spreading through him.

It was so, so beautiful.

He heard something. A sound. High-pitched. It cut through his head, the pain rapidly escalating.

The light faded. Everything faded.

Except for a sudden, intense explosion in his head.

…gift… from your betters.

Jim jolted awake, heart pounding, chest heaving, gut aching, head…

Head feeling fine, strangely.

A hand rested on his shoulder. Jim jolted, pushing out without thinking. “Get away from me!” He heard a crash, looked down and saw Bones on the deck, looking pained.

Jim launched himself off the biobed. “Shit, Bones, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to –”

“I’m fine, forget it. Shoulda known better than to try waking you like that. Nothing’s broken.” Bones pulled himself back to his feet and hauled Jim up with him. “You’ve been out since last night. How are you feeling?”

Jim shook his head. “I don’t… I didn’t…”

“Jim, listen to me. I need you to breathe, okay? Take a deep breath. I’m fine, okay? You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I could have!” There was a chance he could hurt everyone aboard the ship if he couldn’t control himself.

“But you didn’t. Breathe Jim. Everyone’s safe. Just sit yourself back down and – ”

Jim tried to breathe, but he couldn’t slow it down. The edges of his vision fuzzed out. He felt his knees unlock, felt his body crash into something warm and firm.

“Okay, there we go. Open your eyes, Jim. Slowly. You’re in sickbay and I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Bones’ voice pulled Jim back out of the nightmare. It drifted away, taking the words and the images with it. Cradled in his arms, Jim looked at his friend, saw that he was okay, and let out a breath that was almost a sob. “Sorry.”

“That was one helluva nightmare,” Bones said.

“I thought… I heard a voice.” Jim shook his head. “I can’t remember it.” Frustration burned inside him. “It’s slipping away. And I can’t control any of this well enough. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I told you, I shouldn’t have touched you like that while you were coming round. You’re jumpy when you’re not telekinetic. Sorry.”

Swallowing hard, Jim pressed his hands against his face. He let out a massive groan. Then his stomach gave a hefty growl. Jim laughed. “I can’t believe how right you were about the hunger thing.”

Shaking his head, Bones helped Jim get his feet back under him. “One of these days you’re gonna actually believe me when I tell you something.” Together, they walked back to bed got Jim settled. “Let’s stick with something nice and simple like soup. That way, if you hurl, you can clear it up yourself.”

Jim squirmed. “Punishment, huh?”

“Nah,” Bones said. “Just don’t think it’d be fair to have anyone else clean up after you today. Not after the Breakfast Incident.”

“Do you have to make it sound like that?” Jim groaned. Trust Bones to make it an Incident. Then again, he was probably lucky it wasn’t Spock. Starfleet would probably have a ten-page report on it by now.

Bones sighed. “Just rest, okay? And don’t do anything telekinetic. I gotta go check Lieutenant Dreig’s leg. How she managed to break it playing Solitaire I’ll never know.”

“Solitaire?” Jim repeated. “No way.”

“Way, apparently.” Bones shrugged. “It’s a weird universe, Jim. Now, you better still be sat right here when I get back.”

“Aye, sir,” Jim said.

“Pain in my ass,” Bones declared, heading out the isolation room.

Jim did what he was told. He ate his soup when it was brought in, accepted a PADD and read over the latest reports. They were still in the debris field, but the ship was coping easily. He flicked over to the communications department and saw that Uhura and her people were picking up on a number of transmissions in the area, some of them incredibly old and, interesting, some of them coming from subspace. Uhura theorized they came from the space station they were on course to reach, the one detected by Deep Space Two. Her team were hard at work translating what was coming through. He sent Uhura a message, asking her to let him know the moment she had a translation. She messaged back in Andorian, just to keep things fun.

Of course, Captain. I hope you’re doing well and not ruining anyone else’s breakfast.

Smiling, Jim responded in Tellarite. Breakfast is the most overrated meal of the day. It is lunch people should look to protect.

Ending the conversation, Jim jumped over into the science department’s reports, noting that their computer models suggested an unknown catalyst was necessary to create the mind altering effect…

They had the sunset, the chemicals, picked up on the unusual radiation…

They didn’t have the voice. Why did he keep forgetting the words? Had someone beamed aboard the shuttle and then beamed out again? He couldn’t remember.

Jim’s mind wandered, drifting away from his work. The PADD on his lap trembled.

No. No more practice. Not while his headache was only held back by a hypo.

He refocused his attention, checking over what stellar cartography had to offer. Beyond the debris, and the alien space station, there were a number of planets waiting to be explored. There was even a Y Class planet out here. Demon Class, his brain helpfully supplied. He wondered who it had been to coin that particular phrase. Still, it would make for an interesting study. He was certain Spock’s science team would enjoy the opportunity to examine a planet in such a chaotic state. However, if there were M Class planets, they’d be good for shore-leave, or even –

His mind wandered again, poking and prodding at all the loose fixtures and fittings surrounding him. He heard something rattle, and saw the small equipment tray next to his bed drifting off the deck.

“Dammit.”

He dragged his attention back to the PADD, looking for something to read, watch, do…

The equipment tray launched itself upwards. Jim barely grabbed it in time to stop it crashing against the ceiling, His hands came out, helping his mind to guide the object back to the deck.

Maybe he did need to talk to Spock about ways to maintain control. Because randomly making stuff move around just because he couldn’t focus on the thing he actually needed to do was a problem. It was like part of his mind had, well, a mind of its own. He couldn’t keep up with it. Because as soon as he dropped the tray, something else started shifting. He looked over his shoulder and saw a monitor attempting to dislodge itself from the wall.

Not good. What if he tried focusing on one specific thing? Jim wrenched his attention back to his PADD. With a single thought, it leapt into the air.

The monitor stopped rattling.

Okay. Just the PADD. He could do that. He could focus on that. Make it spin slow, lazy circles. It took next to no effort, and the more he focused on that, the easier it was to keep his over-excited thoughts to himself.

He lost track of time, caught in the single-mindedness that was his focus on the PADD.

“Jim, what did I tell you?”

Jim looked up and saw Bones glaring at him. “Sorry,” he said. He dropped the PADD into his hand. “I just… had to.”

“How’s the head? Your painkillers must’ve worn off by now.”

Jim stared at him. “What? How long have I been here?”

“Four hours. Lieutenant Dreig’s leg is healing well, but we’ve had a few people come in with space sickness. It’s a little unusual but not totally unexpected.”

Heart stuttering, stomach sinking, Jim shook his head. “Check again, Bones. It can’t be that long. I was just…” He waved a hand at the PADD and it broke free of Bones’ grip. “Sorry! Sorry. I just…” He ran his hands through his hair. “What’s happening to me?”

“Did you just lose track of four hours?” Bones asked, voice grim.

“Uh…” Jim’s concentration drifted. Pressure rose in his head. Things rattled and moved around him.

“Jim, focus!” Bones ordered. “Close your eyes and relax. Maybe… maybe imagine holding everything perfectly still.”

Jim did. He thought of stillness.

“Okay,” Bones said. “It’s working.”

The pressure subsided, falling away like a receding tide. Daring to open his eyes, Jim sat up straighter. “I think you need to get Spock down here. I can’t control this like we need. I just lost four hours and it feels like five minutes,” he said. “It’s not just me wanting to test myself anymore. It’s more than that. It’s a compulsion. A need. I can’t stop it.”

“You feeling it right now?” Bones asked.

Jim nodded. “Like an itch in the back of my head. I can ignore it for now, but it’s getting stronger.” His fingers danced over the PADD’s casing. He was here because he’d overdone it yesterday… “Maybe I just have to use up everything I have and then it’ll calm down?”

“Maybe, but I’d rather you didn’t knock yourself unconscious every day,” Bones said. “We need to work on helping you control this. Or at least controlling the urge.” He grabbed the PADD again. “Starting now.”

“I was using it for work, I swear!”

“Yeah, four hours ago,” Bones said.

Sighing, Jim flopped back on the biobed. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Once Spock’s down here, we’ll find somewhere for you to really let loose.”

Jim stared at Bones. “Are you serious?”

“Resisting isn’t working,” Bones said. “And you’ve gained some measure of control. Not a lot, sure, but some. If I can get a picture of how you’re doing what you’re doing, maybe we can fix this quicker than waiting for it to wear off,” Bones said. “I’m gonna call Spock and gather some equipment. I can’t do anything without more information, and whether you like it or not, Vulcans have better self-control than most of us. He may be able to help. But first, we’re gonna see exactly what you can do.”

“Just bring a few hypos,” Jim said. “In case my head tries to explode.”

Chapter Text

An hour later, Jim stood with Bones and Spock in one of the least used cargo bays. It was a storage area for their larger gear, where they kept massive, shuttle-sized cargo containers. Some contained survival gear for natural disasters and rescue missions. Others were set up to be mobile labs and offices capable of fitting several people for longer planetary survey missions. The particular cargo bay also had a selection of ground vehicles, depending on the situation. Jim had yet to find a good excuse to put any of the motorbikes to good use.

“Alright, let’s get set up.” Bones busied himself attaching sensors to Jim while Spock set up monitoring equipment.

“Is all this necessary?” Jim asked, reaching up to the sensor attached to his temple.

Bones slapped his hand away. “Yes. We need more data if we’re gonna help you.”

“Doctor McCoy is correct,” Spock said. “The better an understanding we have of your neurological condition, the sooner we may be able to support your control of the telekinesis.” Spock placed numerous objects on the ground ahead of them. The smallest was a basketball, the largest an empty cargo container big enough for two people to stand in. “We need to undertake methodical experiments.”

“You mean rather than letting me experiment in on my own?” Jim asked.

“Precisely,” Spock replied.

Jim felt the hands gathering around his head, bigger than ever. He was ready for this. He wanted this. He could do it. The items quivered on the deck, bouncing like they were caught in their own miniature quakes.

“Whoa, Jim, wait a damn minute so we can finish setting up the monitoring equipment!” Bones barked from the other side of the cargo bay.

Jim blinked hard. He pulled back. “Sorry.”

“Captain, a simple visualization meditation may help with your self-control,” Spock said.

“Sounds great,” Jim said, unable to tear his eyes off the objects. “What would you suggest?”

“Picture a calming place. A quiet place. A place where nothing can reach you. And in that place, you are in control. Of everything. Nothing happens there that you do not want to happen.”

Jim’s mind followed Spock’s soothing tone, back to the shuttle, to the sunset in space. Nothing needed to happen here. He could feel stillness, revel in it.

“Good.” Spock’s voice sounded distant. “Hold onto that peace until we are ready to begin.”

It wasn’t hard. Jim’s mind drifted as though in a dream, settling back into the shuttle. He’d left Deep Space Two, feeling relieved to have passed on all that he had to Starfleet, including an array of commendations for his amazing crew. He’d listened to the updates from the ‘Fleet, something it was trickier to do the deeper into space they went. Deep Space Two was the last outpost, and it was behind them. They were the trailblazers, the one Starfleet followed. Two years into their five year mission, and Jim had found peace in the great unknown. He’d found his place. That feeling of being lost, of living the same day over and over, had faded. And for the first time, Starfleet’s brass finally seemed to be happy with his performance and that of his crew.

So long as they didn’t foist another uniform change upon them anytime soon, that would be great.

He’d prepped the shuttle for warp and activated the autopilot when he saw it. The sunset in space. He’d set the sensors to scan, heard the sound of alerts, but they’d faded fast beneath…

Beneath…

A voice.

A gift for you so that you may learn from your betters.

It hadn’t come through the comm system. The voice was in his head, speaking directly, and it brought…

Pain.

Jim lurched out of the memory.

“There you are,” Bones said, his impatience carrying across the cargo bay. “You went pretty deep into a meditative state there, according to the scanner. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Hah hah,” Jim shot back, trying to shake off his uneasiness. He’d tell Bones about what he’d remembered later. This couldn’t wait much longer. The pressure had grown. “Are you two ready?”

“We are, Captain,” Spock said. “We need to start slow to calibrate the sensors. For now, restrain yourself as best you can until we have established a baseline of your abilities.”

“The moment it starts to hurt, let me know.” Bones waved a hypo. “Don’t get carried away, because if you do, we’ve got phasers set to stun.”

Wide eyed, Jim stared at Bones. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Spock said. “If you were to lose control in such a manner that we were unable to reach your side, a phaser would be our next best option.”

“Noted,” Jim said. He took a breath and turned his attention to the ball. The sensation of invisible hands rushed out from within him, grabbing it. He bounced it like he was setting up for a shot. It was even easier than before.

“Impressive,” Spock commented. “Doctor, I’m reading a massive increase in neurotransmitters.”

“Yeah, I got that too. Aside from the headaches, Jim’s biology has adapted pretty comfortably to it. If I saw this in anyone else, I’d be worried about a stroke.”

“Gonna need a snack after this,” Jim said.

“I’ve got a few energy bars ready for you,” Bones said.

“I do not believe this change could be affected by the elements the shuttle’s sensors detected,” Spock said. “It must be connected to the radiation you detected, and the other features.”

“It was a gift,” Jim said, the words escaping him.

“Elaborate,” Spock said.

“Yeah, what?” Bones demanded.

Jim pulled the basketball into his hands. “There was a voice. On the shuttle.” He bounced the ball with his mind. “They said this was a gift from my betters.”

“And you didn’t think to mention that before?” Bones demanded.

“I didn’t remember,” Jim said. “It doesn’t feel real. It might be a dream.”

“Could have been a hallucination,” Bones said.

“Or a communication,” Jim said. “Like the ones Uhura’s working on.” He threw the ball across the cargo bay, plucking it out of the air before it could hit the deck and pulling it back. He did it a few more times before letting it drop. “How’s that baseline looking?”

“I have established a number of parameters with which to measure your performance,” Spock said. “You may, as Doctor McCoy terms it, let loose.”

“Alright.” Jim rolled his head from side to side, feeling the satisfying crunch as his neck popped. He couldn’t hide his grin. “Let’s do this.”

“Don’t break anything,” Bones ordered from his side of the cargo bay.

“Agreed. We are a long way from any Starfleet outposts where we could acquire replacements,” Spock added.

“That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” Bones snapped.

“Settle down you two,” Jim said. Their sniping at each other truly knew no end. “And stay behind me.”

“If anything hits me, I’m taking it out of your alcohol stash,” Bones muttered.

“If you shoot me with a phaser, I’m taking it out of yours,” Jim shot back.

He focused on the empty cargo container. Opening it, Jim easily deposited the other items into it, before closing the hatch and lifting it off the decking.

“You feel no difference in the weight and size of the object?” Spock asked.

“None,” Jim said.

“Fascinating,” Spock said. “It suggests a number of hypotheses.”

Feeling the first, faint stirrings of his headache, Jim lowered the container to the deck. He released a breath. “Any you care to share yet?”

“No,” Spock said. “They require further examination. Please, continue.”

“If you feel okay to,” Bones said.

Jim did. He extended his reach, lifting everything back out of the container. He followed Spock’s suggestions until he grew bored. “Isn’t there anything else?” Jim chafed at the restrictions. He wanted to do more, could do more. “Anything bigger?” He bounced on his toes, ignoring the dull ache in his head. His whole body burned with pent up energy. He couldn’t contain it. “I can do bigger.”

“You could do with concentrating,” Bones shouted. “You’re making everything move around!”

Jim looked and saw Bones clinging to his console to keep himself grounded.

“Focus, Captain,” Spock called when some of the large cargo containers rattled on their shelves. “The moment your attention drifts, so does the control of your telekinesis. It makes you a risk to others.”

Stomach tightening, Jim wrenched his control onto the huge cargo containers stacked against the cargo hold’s walls.

And they were moving. Not a lot. Just enough to graze the deck beneath them.

That was it.

He chose a mobile lab and wrapped his thoughts around it. He felt more power rising through him, all the pent up energy he had inside finding a release.

“Jim, what the hell are you doing?” Bones asked in his least amused, most monotone voice.

“Captain, this was not what we had in mind,” Spock said. “You should cease this level of activity immediately.”

“I can do it,” Jim said. “Let me try.”

“I will sedate you if I have to,” Bones snapped. “Via phaser if necessary.”

“Gimmie a minute.”

Everything trembled around them. Jim pulled. His hands reached out, feeling the invisible threads connecting him to the massive cargo container. He felt other things moving around him, took blows as smaller cargo containers tore free of their positions on the shelves and smashed into him.

“Dammit, Jim, it’s too much! You have to stop!” Bones shouted.

An alarm sounded out. Moments later, Sulu’s voice hit the air. “Bridge to Commander Spock. Sir, we’re getting readings up here suggesting the cargo bay is under attack. Do you require security?”

“No. Doctor McCoy and I have matters under control,” Spock said. A distant part of Jim’s mind marveled at how calm he sounded. “We are aware of the cause and will deal with it now.”

“Sir, that’s not all. It’s about the alien space station in the debris field. There’s a –”

Jim pushed everything else out of his consciousness. Nothing else mattered except doing this. Proving he could do this. Focusing everything he had for the first time without distractions. Maybe, if he did this, he’d wear himself out and he wouldn’t keep disrupting the crew’s lives.

“Jim, I swear, if you don’t stand down, we will stun you!” Bones shouted.

The mobile lab moved, screaming across the deck as he dragged it off its mooring. It moved across the deck, sparks marking its path. He was doing it. He was –

Agony shot through the very center of his head. It took his breath away. His hands fell to his sides. He staggered back, muscles and joints failing. He hit the deck, his head crashing hard against the flooring. Jim couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe past the agony in his head. Crushing pressure squeezed his skull. Lights were suddenly too bright, noises too loud. He squeezed his eyes shut, clamped his hands over his ears, but it wasn’t enough.

This wasn’t a stun shot. No one had shot him. Yet. This was something else.

Strangest of all, the world seemed to slow. He heard footsteps running toward him, swore he felt the deck vibrate with every step.

And then he heard Spock, his voice drawn out and distorted.

“Mr Sulu, bring the ship to a complete stop and divert all available additional power into the shields. I will return to the Bridge shortly.”

“Understood. Sulu out.”

A burning hot hand grabbed Jim. He felt the awful touch scrape over his skin, his hypersensitive nerves screaming at the touch.

“What did we say about pushing it?”

Bones. But he sounded wrong too.

Everything was wrong.

Including with the ship. Something was wrong with…

A deafening snap-hiss sounded in his ear. Hypospray. It did nothing.

And now there was something else.

Something building up inside him. A terrible, awful wave of power. Jim squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to hold it in. If he let it out, Bones and Spock would be hit. The ship would be hit.

“Get away from me!” Jim ordered.

“No way, Jim,” Bones said. “Your body is going into shock. Your brainwave readings are off the scales and you are going to sickbay whether you like it or not.”

Despite the acidic pain bleeding through his body, Jim pushed himself up on his hands and knees. Forcing his eyes open, he saw Bones beside him and Spock running over.

“Get back!” he gasped. “Both of you!”

He pushed. Bones and Spock skidded away from him, their boots shrieking over the deck.

He threw up, the sound noisy. Black spots bloomed across his vision. Shit! He couldn’t lose control here. He felt power slip free.

The mobile lab flipped through the air. Jim wrenched the power back into himself. He closed his eyes, thinking of Spock’s centering exercise.

It wasn’t working.

“Go!” Jim shouted.

“Jim, let me help!” Bones shouted.

“Get away from me!” Jim ordered. “I can’t hold it for much longer!”

Spock turned back to his station. “Doctor, the Captain is correct. I am detecting a massive energy build up around him. We must take cover!”

“We can’t leave him!” Bones snarled.

“Get out of here now!” Jim grunted. “It’s an order!”

“Now, Doctor!” Spock said.

Jim ran across the cargo bay to the furthest corner. Every step left sent fire through his body, his vision almost whiting out. He needed something to focus on, something to channel everything into.

The mobile lab.

He reached out, grabbed it, and threw everything he had at it. A terrible roar built inside his head, and maybe he was screaming, Jim had no idea. Raw kinetic energy burst out of him and into the cargo container. He raised it off the ground, tossing it back and forth like it was nothing. It smashed into the deck, into the ceiling, the bulkheads, everything and anything and it still wasn’t enough.

Smash it.

He needed to smash it.

Jim reached for it, the power finding every nick, every scratch, every hint of damage and held tight. Held tight and pulled. Pulled harder. Pulled and tore and stretched and –

Jim tore the mobile lab into pieces.

He had nothing left. Nothing at all.

He felt the greatest sense of release. Relief. He closed his eyes.

Jim was unconscious before his body hit the deck.

Chapter Text

As soon as the crashing fell silent, Leonard ran back into the cargo bay. Spock followed him. He saw Jim crumpled on the floor, surrounded by…

Surrounded by…

“Holy shit,” Leonard breathed. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “How is this possible?”

“An incredible achievement,” Spock said.

Jim had destroyed the mobile lab. He’d ripped it apart.

“This may suggest a hypothesis as to why the ship is surrounded by the remnants of a planet,” Spock said.

A chill bolted down Leonard’s spine. The implications of that were too much for Leonard right now. He focused on the problem he could fix: Jim.

The ship shuddered beneath them. Struggling for balance, Leonard ran to Jim’s side as Spock contacted the bridge. Leonard didn’t allow himself to get distracted. He had his tricorder open and scanning. Jim was alive, and he didn’t appear to have caused himself any serious damage. The headache registering on the tricorder would be a living hell if Jim came to right now, so Leonard risked administering a hefty painkiller. Overall, the tricorder stated Jim had just exhausted himself. There was no brain damage, no stroke, no heart attack from the adrenaline overload… Just plain old over-exertion again. And yet… how could one person create so much destruction? “Dammit, Jim.” Leonard’s heart stuttered. It couldn’t be good. It couldn’t be safe. “You are gonna hurt when you come to.”

“The energy readings the sensors picked up are impressive,” Spock said from his station. “The output rivals that of numerous weapons. If he continues to gain power – ”

“Spock, I do not wanna know,” Leonard said.

“How is he?” Spock asked.

“Fine, all things considered,” Leonard said, still not fully believing his own words. His eyes drifted once again to Jim’s wreckage. “I can’t… Spock, how is this possible?”

“I do not know.” Spock looked up from his readings. Leonard knew him well enough to recognize the concern in his eyes. “And if we do not find a way to stop it, the captain will be powerful enough to rip the ship apart. Of that I am certain.”

Leonard must’ve heard him wrong. “Spock, that can’t be –”

“Possible? I assure you, Doctor, it will be. Sooner rather than later.”

The ship shuddered again, the red alert siren wailing. Smaller cargo containers came loose from their shelves, plummeting to the deck. Leonard pulled Jim close, hunching over him. Fever radiated through Jim’s clothes. He’d really done it this time.

And it was really going to get worse?

“Doctor, I must return to the bridge,” Spock said. “We cannot spare power for the transporters due to the shields. Will you be alright returning Jim to sickbay?”

“Yeah, I’ll get someone down here. Just go, Spock. And don’t let the damn ship shake itself apart.”

“Keep me posted,” Spock said before he ran out of the cargo bay

Five minutes later, a medical team arrived with a stretcher. They got Jim back to sickbay, where people were already coming in with injuries from the ship’s shuddering and tipping. Leonard took Jim back to the isolation room at the back of sickbay. Leonard knew it wasn’t enough to hold him anymore, but at least he was far enough away from others that he wouldn’t throw them off their feet or…

Actually, Leonard didn’t want to think about the ‘or’.

With Jim settled on the biobed, Leonard set up every scan he could think of. He needed to know what this level of psionic activity had done to Jim’s brain. Pulling up Spock’s scans from the cargo bay, Leonard felt his eyebrows reach their limits when he saw the numbers Jim’s neurological output had produced. It was a testament to the monumental changes in his body that he hadn’t stroked out. Whether or not it was sustainable remained to be seen. Jim couldn’t go back on duty if he kept losing control. He’d obviously channeled everything into the lab, but if he did that accidentally…

He couldn’t let himself dwell on that dark thought. Leonard skimmed over the tests M’Benga had run on a range of neuro-suppressants. None of them worked, and they were running out of options. If they didn’t find something soon, their only hope would be the alien space station.

Assuming they made it there in one piece.

The isolation room’s door opened. M’Benga was there. “Sorry, Leonard, but we need you. We’ve got a number of casualties coming in, and those cases of space sickness we were dealing with? They just got a lot worse.”

Leonard nodded. “Alright. Jim’s stable for now. I’ll – ”

The ship gave another almighty shudder. Leonard braced himself against Jim’s bed, grabbing him before he could roll off. What the hell was going on out there? Strapping Jim into the bed, Leonard set the monitors to alert him the moment Jim showed any sign of regaining consciousness. He also set up a number of proximity sensors in the room, just in case anything started moving.

“Sleep,” Leonard said, wishing he could will Jim to stay out cold until this latest crisis was over. “And please don’t smash anything else.”

With that, Leonard rushed out to the main bay.

Spock stepped onto the bridge to see a viewscreen full of debris. Sulu vacated the captain’s chair and delivered a brief overview. “The field has become too dense for us to pass through. The space station we are heading towards is transmitting a message. We think it’s having an effect on some members of the crew, causing space sickness.” Sulu’s gaze went to Uhura.

Turning to Nyota, Spock didn’t even need to ask for her assessment. She was on her feet already. “Commander, I haven’t allowed anyone in my department to fully open the transmission because it bears too many similarities to what the captain experienced. We’re putting filters over it to protect ourselves, but we’ve definitely picked up on the image of a sunset in space. We have enough evidence to safely state the space station is the source of the anomaly Captain Kirk encountered.”

Fascinating. Spock moved to the unmanned science station. That wasn’t proper procedure. In his absence, someone should have taken his place. He looked to Sulu.

“Lieutenant Czuka is unwell,” Sulu said. “A lot of your department have had to report to sickbay with space sickness.”

“Can the shields be adapted to block the transmission?” Spock asked.

“No,” Sulu said. “We’ve already tried.”

“Filters are the best we can do,” Uhura said.

Returning his attention to his station, Spock noted that the ship’s scanners had detected the same new elements the captain’s shuttle had discovered in many of the fragments surrounding the Enterprise. There were similar radiation traces too.

Definitely a planet. Definitely the source of the transmission and the anomaly. How it was generated, and why, remained a mystery. The real question was how to stop it and protect the crew. If anyone else developed abilities like the captain, the Enterprise would be in very real danger.

A terrible groan rolled through the ship. Spock barely caught his balance in time to save himself from hitting the deck. Others weren’t so fortunate. The crew helped each other to their feet. “Report, Mr Chekov,” Spock said.

“We’ve come to a complete stop,” Chekov said. “We appear to be caught in the debris.” He turned to Spock. “The field has blocked the navigational route I charted.”

“Can we use the phasers to free the ship?” Spock asked.

“Not without taking power from the shields,” Sulu said from the helm. “They’re the only thing keeping us from serious damage.”

Spock moved to the captain’s chair. “Bridge to engineering. Mr Scott, we will require an estimate on how long the shields will remain fully operable.”

“Aye, Commander, I’m working on it. But if you want a simple answer, it’s this: if we don’t find a way to free ourselves before we run out of power, the debris field out there will destroy us.”

An enlightening statement. Spock didn’t allow it to perturb him. “We will find an alternative solution,” he replied.

“I know. We’ll do what we can down here. Scott out.”

The ship rattled again as another chunk of unknown origin bumped against their shields. A number of plans ran through Spock’s mind. He parked the more dangerous options; there was no need to risk the crew’s safety unless all else failed. Spock ordered the sensors to be recalibrated, and had probes sent out further into the debris field to see if it broke up ahead.

Reports flooded in from the probes. All sent back a single image.

The ancient space station, overlaid by a stunning sunset.

A jolt of concern slid past Spock’s control. He felt the image reach into him. It wanted to relax him, wanted to wind its way past his control.

Spock could not allow it. “Lieutenant Uhura, shut off the viewscreen.”

“Sir, I… I can’t…”

Spock turned to see many of the crew staring in wonder at the screen. He moved to Nyota’s station, jabbing the controls. The screen flicked off. A collective snap passed through the bridge crew, all of them shaking off whatever hold the image had had over them.

“Is everyone alright to continue working?” Spock asked.

A chorus of “Aye, sir” came back.

“Did anyone hear anything?” he asked. “Voices? Words?”

The looks of confusion on their faces suggested they hadn’t heard the voice the captain spoke of. Another fact to be thankful for.

The space station, whatever it was, posed a threat to them all.

And the ship was trapped and being bombarded by debris.

It was times like this Spock missed Jim’s way of thinking outside the box.

Although, as an idea took shape in Spock’s mind, perhaps it was he who might, as they say, be thinking outside of the box on this one.

Perhaps, after all these years, Jim Kirk had influenced his manner of thinking.

The feeling of movement brought Jim back to consciousness. His body felt too heavy while his head felt strangely disconnected. Only one thought drifted through his loopy head.

What had he done this time?

He opened his eyes to almost complete darkness. Blinking hard, his eyes slowly focused on his surroundings.

Sickbay.

Again.

Memories stirred in the sludge holding his brain together. The bed shuddered beneath him before he could pull himself out of the mire. Something… something wasn’t right…

Wake up. He needed to wake up.

Lethargy clung to him like the thickest of blankets. He was tangled in it, his mind already sinking back beneath it. He fought hard, tried to get up.

Something held him in place, stopping him from moving. The adrenaline crashing into his system pushed back against the exhaustion. His vision cleared, his thoughts with it, and Jim remembered where he was and why.

What he didn’t understand was why sickbay was so dark. He couldn’t hear the monitors he knew Bones would’ve linked him to.

No.

Worse than that.

He couldn’t hear the ship’s engines.

“Computer, what is the current stardate?”

No response.

Shit. Jim reached for the straps holding him. They weren’t restraints in a medical sense; they were there for emergencies. Like the ship crashing emergencies.

Freeing himself, Jim slid off the bed. His knees held him, even as his head begged for him to not be upright. Hunger roared inside him, thirst backing it up. How long had he been here?

Bones. He had to find Bones.

Staggering out of the isolation room, Jim stepped into the main sickbay. Sound and noise assaulted him. There were people everywhere, filling the beds. The ship rocked again, sending Jim careening sideways. He caught himself against a biobed, the patient on it curled up and pale.

“Captain!” It was M’Benga. He came running, his hands held out as though he might need to catch Jim at any second. “We weren’t expecting you to come around yet.”

“What’s happening?”

“I’ll have Commander Spock fill you in shortly,” M’Benga said. “First, we need to get some nutrients into you. Leonard was very clear on that.”

Jim’s heart quaked inside him. Where was Bones?

M’Benga took him into the CMO’s office. There was no one in there, and Bones’ belongings were all over the floor. “Did I do this?” Jim asked. Had he lost control in his sleep again?

“No, I promise, this is nothing to do with you,” M’Benga said. “Stay there, I’m going to bring you something to eat.” He handed over a communicator. “The main communication grid is down to preserve power. This is all we have. Commander Spock gathered all the senior staff about an hour ago. They’re putting their heads together to get us out of this.”

Out of what? M’Benga disappeared before Jim could ask. He flipped the communicator open. “Kirk to Spock.”

“Spock here. Captain, it is good to hear from you. I trust you are feeling better.”

Jim smiled faintly. “Bring me up to speed, Commander.”

“We are currently experiencing –”

“Jim!” It was Bones. “Your ass better still be in sickbay or so help me, I’ll – ”

Pinching his nose, Jim barely held in a sigh. “I’m in sickbay. With M’Benga. Who I think is gonna feed me. Give the communicator back to Spock so he can tell me what’s going on.”

“What’s going on is he has a crazy plan that I don’t even want to contemplate and if he goes through with it, I will launch his green ass right in to the next sun we fly by!”

Snorts of laughter sounded over the air. Jim couldn’t help smiling. “Looks like I’ve interrupted a meeting.”

“Captain, we are trapped in the debris field with no apparent means of escape,” Spock said. “All of the ship’s power has been redirected towards the shields and life support.”

“Did you just lie, Spock?” Bones hissed. “You damn menace! You have a very apparent means of escape that –”

“Bones!” Jim called out, wincing at the dull pain that sent through his skull. He’d really let loose that last time. His head still wasn’t happy about it. “Can you let Spock finish?”

“Fine,” Bones grumbled. “I’m coming back down there. It’s gonna take a while ‘cause we’re stuck with Jefferies Tubes, but –”

“Captain, I am here.”

Spock launched into an overview of their situation. Trapped. Remnants of a planet surrounding them. The alien space station nearby. Source of the anomaly. Transmission capable of passing through shields but a filter kept the visual component from causing any transformations. Power levels running low. No way to escape the debris field.

“What if…” Jim hesitated.

“Oh, no,” Bones said. “I know what you’re thinking because Spock’s thinking it too, and the answer is no. Did M’Benga tell you you’ve been unconscious for eight hours?”

“No, he did not.” Eight hours? “But what if it’s the only option? What if I can free the ship?”

“You would have to be outside the ship,” Spock said.

A spacewalk while shoving debris away from the ship? That sounded intense. “Okay.”

“Captain, you would need to clear a path ahead of us,” Sulu said. “The path behind is blocked for at least two hundred thousand kilometers. We’re not going back the way we came. We must approach the alien space station and shut down its communication relay.”

“It’s the source of the spatial anomaly, but we don’t know why,” Uhura said. “We’re hoping we can find out if we board the space station.”

“Understood,” Jim said. Seems like the crew had been busy while he’d been asleep. “I’ll get you there.”

“Are you recovered enough to attempt this?” Spock asked.

Not yet, but it wouldn’t be long. The pressure grew inside him, the energy levels rising as the headache diminished. “How long do we have until we’re out of options?”

“I estimate no more than six hours,” Spock said.

“Alright,” Jim said. “We’re gonna do this. Prepare your departments. Sulu, get this ship ready to move.”

“You’re not doing a damn thing until I get down there,” Bones fumed. “This is insanity! It’s –”

M’Benga slid in just as his boss launched into a tirade that somehow involved the sentence if I wanted to deal with idiots, I would’ve carried on working in the Academy’s clinic! M’Benga passed over a bowl of soup and an incredibly orange energy drink.

“ – so help me Jim, if you so much as poke your pinky finger out of sickbay, I am gonna – ”

“I’ll be ready as soon as Bones is happy,” Jim told Spock.

“I believe ‘happy’ is an inappropriate term to use in this context,” Spock replied.

Jim almost snorted soup through his nostrils.

“Are you well, Captain?” Spock asked.

“Yeah, fine,” Jim wheezed. “I’ll get back to you. Kirk out.”

“I’ll give the team a head’s up,” M’Benga said. “The boss is definitely on the warpath.”

Jim sighed. “When isn’t he?”

By the time Bones made it back to sickbay, Jim had downed three bowls of soup, two orange flavored sports drinks, three energy bars, and retreated to the isolation room. The telekinesis had awoken and regained its strength to the point that if he didn’t concentrate hard on keeping his soup bowl elevated, his mind wandered to other, bigger, challenges. He needed to save his energy for the real challenge ahead.

“I don’t like this,” Bones said, running a tricorder around Jim’s head. “I don’t like a damn thing about it. I wanna be clear on this.”

“You’re very clear,” Jim said. “But we don’t have a choice.”

“I know that, because if we did, you wouldn’t be going anywhere. Dammit, Jim, you smashed up an entire mobile lab. You better hope we don’t need that anytime soon.”

Guilt tore through Jim. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but if it hadn’t been the lab, it would’ve been something else, something more essential.

“Dammit, Jim, focus!”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Jim heard a distinct groaning as the biobed attempted to shear itself off its fixtures. “Shit, sorry!” He returned his focus to the bowl. “At least this time I can put it all to good use.”

“Someone’s gonna have to go out there with you,” Bones said. “Monitor you and –”

“No.” That was too risky, especially given the damage he knew he could do. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re a worse liar than you think,” Bones said.

Jim couldn’t risk taking his attention off the bowl, even though he wanted to look Bones in the eye and swear he’d do everything he could to keep himself safe. Except being captain meant knowing that the crew, and their ship, meant more than his own life. Ensuring their survival was what he’d sworn to do.

He understood that now. He should’ve known it from the beginning, but he hadn’t. Even after all these years, Chris Pike’s words hadn’t faded from his mind.

You don’t appreciate the chair.

He hadn’t back then. Hadn’t until he’d awoken weeks later from a coma. From death. He’d been arrogant, cocky and flippant, and other people had paid the ultimate price. He couldn’t be that person again. He’d sworn he wouldn’t be. He respected what it truly meant to carry people’s lives in his hands. They weren’t numbers to wave around, to proudly state he’d kept every last one alive. That was pride. Arrogance. Stupidity. Loss was inevitable. Not understanding that had been a sign of his own immaturity.

He hadn’t deserved the Enterprise. Hadn’t deserved the crew’s loyalty. But it was different now. He was different. He asked his crew to put themselves at risk every day. What kind of captain wouldn’t do the same? What kind of monster wouldn’t –

“ – hear me? Stop!”

A sharp pinch on his hand snapped him out of his thoughts. The soup bowl was now in a thousand pieces, and the walls of the isolation chamber looked like something had tried to tear them down. The screens were shattered, the bulkheads cracked, the light fixtures swinging loose.

“Shit,” Jim breathed. He looked at Bones, panic threatening to get the better of him. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Bones said.

He wasn’t. Jim saw a thin line of fresh blood rolling down Bones’ face. Something had cracked him in the head. Jim reached out. Bones caught his hand.

“Forget it,” he said. “It’s barely a scratch.” Bones dragged Jim to his feet. “As much as I don’t like it, you do need to free the ship because hopefully whatever caused this is aboard the ancient space station and we can dial you back down to normal. Let’s get to the shuttlebay. You can suit up there and head out.”

“I’m sorry I broke the isolation room,” Jim said as Bones led him out of sickbay.

“Yeah, that’s great. How ‘bout you concentrate on not breaking anything else?” Bones said. “Because I don’t think the ship can take a beating from inside and outside.”

As if to prove his point, the ship quaked around them. It almost knocked Jim off his feet, but instinct kicked in and he threw out his hands, catching himself midair.

“Whoa.” Yeah, there were perks to this he’d definitely miss.

Bones grabbed him by the back of his shirt, wrenching him upright. “Let’s get this finished before the ship runs out of power and all that debris starts punching holes in the hull.”

“Yeah, no one wants their blood boiling,” Jim said.

“That’s assuming we even survive that long,” Bones muttered as they resumed their run through the ship. “More likely we’ll be – ”

“Bones.”

“– sucked out into space or take an explosion to the face when the –”

“Bones.”

“ – power conduits blow or –”

“Bones! Enough, I get it!” Jim reached the hatch to the Jefferies tubes. It snapped clean off and nearly decapitated them when he accidentally pulled it over to them. “Shit, sorry.”

“This is what I’m talking about! This is –”

Jim shoved him into the tubes. “Enough, okay? Enough.” It was a long trip to the shuttle bay on foot, and he wasn’t interested in listening to Bones lose his mind for the entirety of it. “It’s almost over, alright? We’re getting out of here.”

“And getting you back to normal,” Bones said. "Somehow."

“Agreed,” Jim said.

Normal never sounded so good.

Chapter Text

By the time they reached the shuttle bay and Jim suited up, it took every scrap of concentration to maintain his self-control. The wave had built up inside him frighteningly quickly, and he could only hold so much in. He’d shattered more than a few interfaces, torn a few ladders off the bulkheads in the tubes, and even knocked out an entire deck’s lighting system.

And all of that was nothing. Not even the tip of the iceberg he held inside.

He felt something press against his neck. “Anti-emetic,” Bones said. “You’re gonna need it. Everybody aboard needs them right now.”

Jim allowed himself a nod. The power inside him rose like a tide. If he didn’t do something with it soon, he’d drown in it. Bones slid Jim’s helmet over his head, activating the oxygen feed. “Get out there and free us,” he said. “I’ll be waiting for you in sickbay.”

Jim nodded, trying not to lose focus while also picturing what had to be done. Get out, get to the front of the ship, and clear a path.

Easy.

He could do that.

He could throw huge hunks of unknown planetary material around space.

Yeah, no problem.

The tiny hands gathering around him danced at the thought of it.

“Hold on,” Bones said. “Don’t let go. Not yet.”

Metal groaned around them. Jim looked, spotted a shuttle straining against its docking clamps. He could feel his connection to it, feel the way his thoughts could easily lift it up. He gathered the power back, pulling it into himself. “Fuck.” He looked at Bones. “I can’t hold onto this for much longer.”

“I know. Go! And make sure you clear a path.”

Jim didn’t need telling twice. Leaving Bones to head into the shuttle bay control room, he ran to the shuttle bay door. Moments later, it slowly opened. Space beyond was littered with rocks and wrecked ships.

Spock’s voice suddenly filled his head. “Bridge to Captain Kirk.”

Bones answered for Jim. “Don’t talk to him right now, Spock. We barely got down here without him accidentally tearing the ship to pieces.”

“Understood.”

With the shuttle bay finally open, Jim launched himself into space. The EVA suit’s boosters enabled him to get into position on the ship’s saucer section with ease. He probably could’ve moved himself there with his own power, but he needed to save it.

He was going to need every last scrap of strength. The massive chunks of rock hanging around him were big. Very big.

It was strange, being outside with the shield shimmering around him, flashing where the debris field made contact. He reached out, trying to close his thoughts around the closest piece of space trash.

He felt his power bounce off the shield.

“Shit.” Jim activated his suit’s comm unit. “Kirk to Spock. You’re not gonna like this, but I need you to drop the shields.”

“Captain, if we drop the shields, we will have no defense,” Spock said.

“Yeah, you will. Me. But if you don’t drop the shields, I can’t do anything.”

“You cannot manipulate matter beyond the shields?”

The ship lurched when a massive, shuttle-sized rock hit the shields. Jim staggered to one side, grateful the magnetized boots kept him attached to the hull. Dammit. He did not have time to argue; not with larger debris coming at the Enterprise. He needed to do this, now, before he lost control and wasted everything he had. “Spock, trust me. Drop the shields. I’ll clear a path. Sulu, make sure you’re ready to get us to that space station.”

“Aye, Captain,” Sulu said.

“Understood,” Spock said. “Shields dropping.”

Jim planted his feet in a bladed stance, ready for a fight. The shields disappeared. Jim launched into action, catching rocks and throwing them away, crashing them into each other to clear through the debris field and keep anything from hitting his ship, his home, his crew.

And it wasn’t just rocks. There were fragments of ships in the field.

Jim couldn’t spare the mental focus to take in specifics. He had to protect the crew and their ship.

He could do this. He could keep going. Immense power worked through him, responding to every thought. Nothing else existed to him, just the rocks and wreckage standing between them and the space station. He sank deeper into the flow, his mind connecting with everything in his path and sending it spiraling. More. More, more, more. It was incredible. He felt disconnected from his body. He existed as energy, and with every object he threw away, the ship moved closer to the alien spaceship.

A gift for you so that you may learn from your betters.

And then his mind crashed without warning, pulling him back into his body. He blinked, surprised to find himself on his knees, the ship’s shining hull under his hands. Pain screamed through his skull. He’d done more than he’d ever tried before, his body complaining, and yet the power howled inside him, begging to be unleashed.

“ – to Kirk. Come in, Captain.” Spock’s voice sounded like to came from the other side of the galaxy. “If you can hear me, there is a large asteroid directly ahead of the ship. It is the last one standing between the ship and the space station. If you do not clear it, the ship will sustain heavy damage. We cannot bring phasers online soon enough to fire on it.”

“C’mon, Jim. Get up!” Bones’ voice was just as distant. “You have to do this!”

Jim forced his head up. He saw it racing towards the ship; a massive chunk of rock the size of the saucer section, hurtling closer every second. Staggering to his feet, Jim ran forward, summoning everything he had left.

He caught the rock.

That wasn’t enough. It was too big.

If he could trash a lab, he could wreck a rock.

He pushed everything he had outward, felt the energy wrapping itself around every inch of the meteor, finding every crack, every fissure, every tear. And then he started to pull. Harder and harder. He pushed past the pain. He had to do this. He couldn’t let Enterprise take a hit.

Jim’s throat ached with the roar echoing from deep within. He could barely see past the static blinding him. But he could see enough.

Saw the meteor.

Saw it coming apart.

Felt himself pulling it apart.

There was resistance. Tough formations that would not break, would not separate.

A ragged laugh broke free of Jim, teeth bearing in a feral grin. He tasted blood on his tongue, felt a hot gush flood across his lips.

Yes. Yes, they would break apart.

He could break anything he wanted to break.

The meteor shattered into two pieces.

Jim’s knees gave out. He shoved one half away from the Enterprise, but he had nothing left. The second half was going to hit.

No. No, he couldn’t fail. Not now!

Jim threw out a hand.

Nothing happened.

He’d burnt himself out.

And then light. From the phasers. Hitting the debris and shattering it.

It was the last thing Jim saw before everything went dark.

A voice followed him down.

You have learned well from your betters.

And then he saw it emerging from the darkness.

The sunset.

Except this time, it wasn’t in space.

He watched it setting on the horizon of a vast ocean.

Voices filled his head. All doing the same thing.

Screaming.

The noise shattered the world.

This time, the darkness didn’t let Jim go.

Spock watched the last of the debris blocking their onward trajectory explode. He couldn’t deny the distinct feel of satisfaction running through him. He did not, however, allow it to alter his focus. “Report, Mr Sulu.”

“We’ve got a clear path to the space station, Commander.” Sulu said.

“The captain?” Spock asked.

“Mr Scott beamed the captain aboard,” Sulu said. “He’s in Sickbay.”

Knowing better than to contact McCoy at this precise moment, Spock kept his focus on the matters he could deal with. “Take us to the space station,” he ordered.

“Aye, sir,” Sulu said, hands moving over the helm controls.

“Engineering to bridge. I’m bringing all our power levels back up to normal,” Scott said over the comm. “Now we don’t have to maintain shields, we can send power back to all non-urgent systems.”

“Communications?” Spock asked.

“Up and running,” Scott said.

“Lieutenant?” Spock turned to Uhura, knowing he needed to ask no more of her.

“I’m still picking up on the transmission,” Uhura said. “We will need to make certain there’s nothing aboard the station that could cause similar effects that the captain has suffered before we send an away team.”

“Agreed,” Spock said.

“I am scanning,” Chekov said. “The structure appears ancient.”

“How ancient?” Spock asked.

“Scanners suggest five hundred years, sir,” Chekov replied. He turned in his seat. “There’s something else. I am detecting several elements in its makeup unknown to the Federation except for the samples picked up by the captain’s shuttle.”

“Fascinating,” Spock said. “Will we be able to beam aboard?”

“I believe so,” Chekov said. “I cannot detect any shields.”

“This debris field was the shield,” Sulu said. “Whether it was supposed to be or not.”

“A logical conclusion,” Spock said. “We have seen numerous wrecks in the field.” They’d watched the derelicts fly away after the captain threw them away from the Enterprise. “It would seem many were lost here.”

“They had five hundred years to get lost here,” Scott said.

The Enterprise arrived at the ancient space station within minutes. It was tiny, probably capable of sustaining fifty crew members, assuming they were humanoid. Time had not been kind. The image on the viewscreen revealed large hull breaches.

“Power levels?” Spock asked.

“Minimal,” Scott said. “If you’re planning on going over there, you’ll need suits. I cannae detect life support of any kind.”

“If there’s minimal power, how are they sending out the transmission?” Sulu asked.

“What power remains is going to the communication system,” Uhura said. “It’s sending out on all frequencies, including subspace, but there are signals going out that our computer cannot interpret.” She looked over to Spock, an apology in her eyes. “The technology is beyond ours.”

“Is their computer core accessible remotely?” Spock asked.

“Unlikely,” Scott said. “If you want the data, you’ll have to get up close and personal.”

“I’m detecting radiation similar to what the shuttle’s sensors picked up,” Chekov said. “The levels are low.”

Spock used the captain’s chair to access his station’s readouts. Indeed, the radiation levels were so low they weren’t likely to damage organic life. However, he remained reluctant to send anyone aboard, given the nature of communications emanating from the station. While he wanted to gain an understanding of the space station and its purpose, their main concern remained the anomaly it caused. His human side, forever lacking in strict Vulcan discipline, suggested he simply order the station be destroyed. As always, logic won out.

“Can we interface with the communication system?” Spock asked.

Uhura worked on her station, consulting the people either side of her. Spock knew humans well enough by now to recognize negative answers when he was about to receive them.

“No,” Uhura said. “We will have to board the space station to shut everything down manually.”

“Understood,” Spock said. “Lieutenant, prepare any security measures you feel the EVA suits will require. Have Mr Scott assist you.”

“Aye sir,” she answered.

An alert sounded. Everyone turned to the ship’s systems officer. Lieutenant Shai, an Andorian, looked up from his station. “It’s sickbay, sir. I’m picking up dangerous power fluctuations.”

Spock didn’t have a chance to contact McCoy. The ship shuddered, alarms sounding off.

“McCoy to bridge. Spock, whatever y’all are planning on doing, you better do it fast otherwise Jim’s gonna shake this ship apart. He’s out cold and we can’t bring him round. Hell, we can’t get close to him. The power he's emitting hasn't stopped like before. He’s in the isolation room and we’re about to pump it full of a neuro-suppressant that might settle him for a couple of hours, but he’s beyond controlling this. The human brain wasn’t built for this. I know he’s undergone some changes, but it’s too much.”

“Worst case scenario, Doctor?” Spock asked.

“Worst case? He smashes a hole the size of Iowa into the Enterprise, we all get sucked into space, and we all die.”

“An unpleasant outcome, regardless of your exaggeration,” Spock replied.

“Just get some answers, Spock! We’re running out of time!”

“Update me once you have administered the neuro-suppressant,” Spock said.

“I will, but if this doesn’t work, I’m gonna need another alternative. McCoy out.”

Concern fading beneath his logic before it truly registered, Spock made a rapid decision. “Ensign Chekov, join Lieutenant Uhura and Mr Scott on the away team.”

“Aye, sir.” Chekov dashed off the bridge.

Spock looked at the viewscreen, gaze moving beyond the space station. “Mr Sulu, monitor the debris field. Shoot down anything that comes within range of the ship.”

“Aye, sir.”

He turned to the navigation station. Ensign Darwin had taken Ensign Chekov’s station. “Are we at risk of losing a clear path out of the debris field?”

Spock watched her rapid calculations. “The captain cleared a significant area,” she said. “The debris is still adrift and appears to be moving away from us. The field beyond the station is significantly thinner than it is here.” She looked up from her station to face him. “Sir, I believe we can remain here for several days without running the risk of the debris field closing us in. As long as we do not have to redirect power from the phasers to the shields, we should be able to shoot our way clear of the remainder of the field.”

It was a reassuring answer, the best they could reasonably expect. “Monitor the debris field,” Spock said. “If our onward trajectory becomes uncertain, inform me immediately.”

Darwin turned back to her station. “Aye, sir.”

Spock turned his gaze once again to the space station. The answer to the captain’s condition could be aboard.

“Scott to bridge. We’re good to go down here. The plan is to beam aboard the station, download the data from the computer core, and shut down any remaining systems causing the spatial anomaly.”

“Understood,” Spock said. “Keep open comms with the Enterprise at all times. If you begin to suspect you are suffering any ill effects from the systems, we will beam you back immediately.”

Another alert sounded from the ship’s systems. “Commander, I’m reading power outages in sickbay,” Lieutenant Shai said.

“McCoy to bridge. Bad news, Spock. The suppressant didn’t work. Gonna need another idea, fast.”

Spock glanced at the alert readouts himself. The ship was in very real danger if the captain wasn’t contained. “Doctor, the captain was unable to manipulate anything beyond the ship’s shields.”

“You didn’t think to mention that before Jim knocked out all our power?” McCoy shot back.

“Apologies, Doctor.” Logic guided Spock to the most logical option. “Can we beam him to the brig for sufficient containment? It has the strongest shielding available to us.”

“Yeah, but you’ll need to clear out all the personnel until the shields are active. They’ll be thrown around like ragdolls if not. I’ve never seen anything like it, Spock. It looks as though it comes on in pulses, and whenever one happens, telekinetic energy just bursts out of him. We’ll have to transport him during a lull.”

Fascinating, certainly. “Would you say it has increased with our proximity to the space station?” Spock asked.

“Hard to tell. He’s been gaining strength for days. If it is the space station, it must be emitting something that he’s attuned to that the rest of us are not, otherwise we’d all be tearing stuff apart with our brains.”

“We will scan for such radiation now, Doctor,” Spock said. “Get the captain to the brig. If the forcefield fails, inform me immediately.”

“You better hope it doesn’t,” McCoy said, ending the call.

Spock retreated to the science station, intent on finding the cause of the captain’s growing strength. One way or another, Jim needed to be stopped. Otherwise, the Enterprise and the crew wouldn't survive.

Chapter Text

Uhura’s tricorder was open and scanning the moment they materialized aboard the space station. They’d transported into a long, narrow corridor, so narrow they had to walk single-file. Their magnetized boots were the only thing keeping them attached to the deck. Everything was dark, silent, and derelict. Their suits provided light. The station had lost gravity, meaning a great deal of trash floated around them.

“Creepy,” Scott muttered.

To shake off her own unease, Uhura focused on their surroundings. She saw signs on the walls, alien text written on them. She scanned them, hoping the translation matrix would have some luck with them. Nothing. It would require further time and analysis. Spotting what looked like a computer interface, she ran a hand over a nearby bulkhead. She thumped it a few times, but without power, it wouldn’t reactivate.

“The core is near the center of the station,” Chekov said. “I’m picking up faint power readings.”

“Very faint levels of radiation too,” Scott added. “Matching what the shuttle’s sensors detected.”

“Anything harmful?” Uhura asked.

“Negative. The suits are protecting us,” Scott said. “I cannae believe there’s anything left. This place has been out here for longer than Earth’s known how to use electricity. Imagine that!”

“Reminds you just how new to space exploration Earth really is,” Uhura said. “Let’s go.”

She pushed onward, turning down new derelict corridors when Chekov told her to. The walls remained close. Either this alien race had been far smaller than humans, or they hadn’t felt the need to create broader walking spaces. They saw more signs, even artwork. Uhura scanned it all, recording it in case this was all that remained of a lost civilization.

The corridor led into a larger space, one where at last they found dim lights pulsing in what had to be the mainframe computer. Suspended by countless cables in the center of the room, the computer core looked like a strange, mechanical heart. The cables had a strange feel to them. Uhura worried they might lash out, grab her and pull her in. Suppressing a shudder, Uhura looked to her tricorder. It picked up on subspace transmissions. They were being sent out in regular bursts once every minute. Excellent. Everything was here in this one place.

“I’ll start downloading the core’s data,” Scott said. “Gimmie a hand here, laddie.”

“Aye, sir,” Chekov said. He opened his kit, pulling out a large battery pack. “This should help.”

He activated it, and the computer burst into life. Lights flashed, screens flickered. Uhura found herself watching the cables. Nothing moved. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the interface. She didn’t recognize the language. It was completely unknown. She could learn to read it later. Right now, at the very least she needed to shut it down. And as soon as Scott and Chekov had the data they wanted, that’s exactly what she would do. Because she could already see the power levels building in the communications network, saw that the frequency and the strength of the messages being sent grew with each passing second.

“This is definitely the source of the radiation alright. Its running through one of these cables directly into the communications system,” Scott said, his tricorder scanning the massive cables. “Most of these aren’t power conduits. Some are sending elements into the machine to be sent out with the transmission.”

“How is that possible?” Uhura asked. She’d never heard of anything like it.

“Some kind of transporter technology?” Chekov offered.

“Maybe,” Scott said. He shook his head. “This tech is beyond me.”

It was beyond all of them. “Do they match with what the captain encountered?” Uhura asked.

“Aye,” Scott said.

They had all the information they needed for now. “Uhura to Enterprise.”

“Go ahead,” Spock said.

“Sir, it may be a good idea to communicate with Deep Space Two and stop any incoming or outgoing traffic. We may have powered up the systems here and the spatial anomaly the captain encountered may reopen.”

“Understood. We’ll alert them now. How long do you expect the download to take?”

“At least an hour,” Chekov said. “There is an incredible amount of information.”

“Can you shut down the communication network prior to completing the download?” Spock asked.

Without being able to translate the computer system and work her way through it, Uhura knew their only option would be messier. “I’d need to jam the frequencies, but doing so would also cut off communications between us. We wouldn’t be able to request a beam back.”

“Understood. The situation here requires that communications be cut off immediately. We believe that increase in the station’s power output is having an adverse effect on the captain.” Spock’s words sent a spark of concern through Uhura’s stomach. “Many of the crew are suffering from worsening space sickness as well.”

“What kind of adverse effect?” Uhura asked.

“He has continued exhibiting powerful blasts of telekinetic energy. He has caused some damage to the ship as he is unconscious and unable to control the power,” Spock said.

“How much damage are we talking about?” Scott asked.

“A considerable amount,” Spock replied. “Your department will be kept busy for several days. The brig will require significant work. We have had to evacuate that deck, and those surrounding it as well.”

Uhura blinked. Had she heard that right? They had Kirk in the brig? Maybe it was the only part of the ship that could hold him.

“I’m just grateful we’ve got a ship left to repair,” Scott said.

“We may not if you do not hurry,” Spock said. “The captain’s power is still growing exponentially. Shields will not hold him for long.”

Uhura shared a look with the others. They needed to move faster.

“We will send a shuttle to meet you. Once it is in position, we will update you and you can cut off the communication system,” Spock said.

“Understood. Uhura out.”

She looked at the others, saw her concern mirrored in their gazes. “I’m going to try and begin translating some of this,” she said.

“Aye. We’ll speed up this download,” Scott said.

Chekov nodded. “If we create a direct, physical connection, we will be able to override the degraded wiring.”

Uhura nodded. The sooner they could leave this place, the better. She pulled a PADD out of her EVA suit’s pocket, linking it with the tricorder and activating the translation matrix. It was slow going, the old operating system sluggish even with the power boost. Uhura hadn’t been wrong in her previous analysis: the space station operated on technology beyond the Federation’s understanding. This wasn’t something she could work her way through in minutes: this would probably take years of study if the civilization behind its creation was lost. As much as she wanted to hack her way through the coding, they would have to go with the less elegant signal jamming. She began work on that, contacting her department aboard the Enterprise to beam a jammer over. It appeared in a flash of light, and she set to work on tuning it to everything coming out of the space station, ready to activate the moment the shuttle was in position and able to tell them where to meet it. She wouldn’t be able to shut down the parts of the system emitting radiation and the unknown elements, but if she took out the verbal and visual elements, the space station wouldn’t be capable of transforming anyone else.

“Okay, we’re tapped in directly,” Scott said. “That’ll make this go quicker.”

Chekov stepped back, his tricorder out and scanning. “I am picking up a number of unusual interfaces with this computer core,” he said.

“Unusual how?” Scott asked.

“I think they would require telepathic abilities to interact with,” he said.

“Okay, everybody take a step back,” Scott said.

“Sir?” Chekov asked, even has he followed orders.

“Listen, I’ve dealt with enough weird alien stuff in my time to know I do not want anything poking around in my brain. And unless you missed it, the captain’s been throwing things around with his mind.” Scott, to Uhura’s amusement, tapped his helmet to make his point. “And the truth is, this technology may be ancient, but it’s still unknown and still more advanced than our own. So, we’re going to keep our distance.”

“Understood,” Uhura replied, taking a step back too.

“Maybe we should have brought some of Mr Hendorff’s security team with us,” Chekov said.

“Not sure what good a phaser would be against any ghosts in the machine,” Scott said.

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Chekov said.

“Don’t be so sure, laddie!” Scott said. “My wee granny used to say –”

“McKenna to away team.”

“Away team here,” Uhura answered before Scott got too carried away.

“I’m sending you the shuttle’s location and how to reach me,” McKenna said. “Once you receive the transmission, Commander Spock requests that you block all further communication. It’s, uh, getting kinda bumpy on the Enterprise.”

“Understood,” Uhura said. Her tricorder beeped with the incoming information. She memorized the route before looking at the others. “Once I block communications, it will also silence our comms. You’re going to have to use sign language.”

“The download won’t take much longer,” Scott said. “We’ll be done in five minutes. Did you hear that, McKenna?”

“Aye sir, I’ll expect you here in no less than ten minutes. McKenna out.”

Uhura looked up at the others, her hands ready to activate the communication jammer. “Ready?”

“To be off this ghost station? Absolutely!” Scott replied.

Uhura jammed all the frequencies she could.

Total silence fell.

The brig’s main forcefield failed. Jim had managed to shatter the emitters. It forced the security team to set up a series of forcefields, using backups and redundancies. Even with those, Jim had wrecked a huge section of the brig and the security department’s training area. And with his power growing, the forcefields barely held him. When one buckled, another layer was added. Except the ship was running out of emitters, and it would soon be far too dangerous for anyone to get close. Jim’s power had increased, and if it didn’t level off soon, he wouldn’t just be punching holes in the brig; he’d be taking out decks.

And the hull.

Leonard monitored Jim from the relative safety of an office on the deck below security. The ceiling overhead had cracked, the power systems forced to run off backups because Jim had knocked out the primary EPS conduits. Leonard couldn’t get any closer without being tossed around like a damn football. Even the security team in EVA suits and magnetized boots struggled to get close enough to set up the additional forcefields and monitors. Jim’s biosigns were so far into the red, Leonard couldn’t bring himself to look at them. What he struggled to tear his eyes off was the visual feed coming in from the ragged remains of the cell. Jim was suspended in midair, his limp body held in place despite his being unconscious.

“Spock to McCoy.”

Leonard activated his comm. “McCoy here.”

“The station’s communication system is down. That should begin to lessen the captain’s outbursts.”

Outbursts. Trust Spock to make it sound like Jim was throwing a tantrum. “I’ll keep you posted, but given how much strength he has, I’d say it’ll take a while for it to taper off.”

“Understood. Spock out.”

Hours trickled by. Leonard used a timer to keep track of the time between Jim’s outbursts. Three a minute, down to two, down to one a minute… The brig shuddered under the assault until, at long, long last, the readings coming from Jim’s brain finally leveled off. They were still way too high, but they weren’t increasing. Even the psychic outbursts lashing at the forcefields lost their intensity. It was the first bit of positive news Leonard had received in days, and he clung onto it.

The office door opened. Leonard looked up and saw M’Benga stepping in.

“How’re the rest of our patients?” Leonard asked.

“We’ve managed to discharge all of the space sickness cases,” he said. “Seems a lot of them resolved themselves the moment the space station ceased broadcasting.”

“Unbelievable,” Leonard muttered. “What’re the chances we’ll encounter more long-lost alien races with the ability to unleash this kinda holy hell on us?”

“More than you want,” M’Benga said, tone light. “Hopefully now, the captain’s neuro readings will steadily return to normal.” He looked at the screen. “Wow. That is weird.”

“I know,” Leonard said. It was freaking him out, seeing Jim holding himself in midair like that. “The shuddering has calmed down.”

“Forcefields aren’t taking such a beating anymore either,” M’Benga said.

“He tested the damn things to their limits,” Leonard said.

M’Benga took the PADD with a whistle. “That’s our captain,” he said. “Keeping his crew on their toes.”

Fondness fought with worry. “Don’t give him any ideas,” Leonard said. “Anyway, engineering’s gonna have to figure out how to make these forcefields stronger. Just in case something like this happens again.”

“Let’s truly hope that never happens,” M’Benga said. He looked to the bio-readings. “How long do you expect him to remain unconscious?”

“Not sure,” Leonard said. What Jim had done with the debris field blew his little exhibition in the cargo bay out of the water. And then he’d gone on to do all of this with zero downtime. “Once the telekinesis dies down, we’ll be able to get in there and actually treat him.” Jim was exhausted, seriously dehydrated and in obvious pain. He was in real danger of burning himself out.

“How long until you’d expect another outburst?” M’Benga asked.

Leonard looked at the timer. A fresh burst of relief bloomed in his chest. “He’s overdue.” Two minutes and nothing had happened. “Shutting off the transmission must’ve worked.”

“Excellent,” M’Benga said. “This may be over soon.”

Not soon enough for Leonard’s liking. He wanted Jim to be back to his usual, human, self right now.

“Go get yourself a coffee and something to eat,” M’Benga said. “I’ll monitor him. If anything changes, I’ll update you.” He grinned. “Besides, you know what the captain’s like. He only really accepts your advice…”

Leonard snorted. “Yeah, right.”

M’Benga carried on. “…So you need to be fully rested for when he’s really causing us trouble.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” With one last look at Jim on the monitor, Leonard stepped back. “I wanna know the minute he stops levitating like some kinda circus act too. Once he does that, we should be able to get in there and treat him.”

“No more circus act, gotcha.”

Shaking his head, Leonard grabbed his PADD went to the mess hall, filled a canteen with coffee and a grabbed a sandwich. Taking a seat, he glanced over the reports, saw the away team had successfully returned and were hard at work on the space station’s computer data. The station had completely stopped transmitting, and sat in space, silent and apparently harmless. Leonard resisted the urge to contact Uhura. His impatience wouldn’t help her translate anything faster. No point contacting Scott or Chekov either to see how quickly they were working their way through the space station’s computer files.

For all he’d lectured Jim about needing to find stillness and focus, Leonard knew he was in the exact same position.

And he didn’t like it. Goddammit, he hated not being able to do something when something needed to be done. Leonard tried, and failed, to distract himself with updating patient charts. After a couple of hours, he stopped pretending. Grabbing his coffee canteen, Leonard headed back to his borrowed office. M’Benga sat in there, monitoring Jim’s biosigns. “Before you ask,” he said before Leonard could even open his mouth. “His neurological readings are still coming down. He’s still trying to tear the room apart, but not so frequently and not with quite the same levels of power, which is nice. I estimate you’ll be able to get in there in about three hours if these readings continue going down.”

“And the rest of his vitals?” Leonard asked.

“Nothing we can’t fix when it’s safe to enter,” M’Benga said. “I considered trying another neuro-suppressant, but computer simulations suggest they’ll remain ineffective.”

“Just gotta be patient,” Leonard said.

M’Benga fixed him with a stare.

Leonard rolled his eyes. “Just spit it out, Geoff.”

“You’re more like him than you think you are.”

“I am no-”

“Uhura to McCoy.”

Leonard nearly sent his communicator flying as he tore it out of his pocket. He turned his back on M’Benga’s snort of laughter. “McCoy here. Go ahead, Lieutenant. Gimmie some good news.”

“I’ve translated some of the message the station was transmitting along with the image of the sunset. I think it acted as a trigger phrase,” Uhura said. “There’s a chance there’s a deprogramming phrase in here as well. I’m searching for it now.”

Hope rose in Leonard.  

“The message is –”

“Whoa, wait, you sure saying it isn’t gonna set me off?” Leonard asked.

“Not unless you’ve looked at pictures of a sunset in space lately, and been exposed to a subspace communication also spewing new elements and radiation previously undiscovered by the Federation?”

Leonard smiled. “Not recently.”

“It’s a simple message, which is why I think it’s a trigger phrase. ‘A gift for you so that you may learn from your betters.’”

Leonard glanced at Jim’s levitating form on the monitor. Nothing. “Arrogant of them,” he said.

“Oh, extremely,” Uhura agreed.

“Still no idea who these people were?”

“Not a clue,” Uhura replied. “I… Wait! Wait, I think I have it.”

“Have what?”

“The counter-phrase,” she said.

“Wait. Let me patch you through.” Leonard hit the comm unit for the brig. Or, rather, what was left of it. “Okay, go ahead.”

“‘You have learned well from your betters.’.”

Leonard looked at Jim’s readouts. There was no change. “Guess we must be missing something,” he said. “Still, he is getting better. Just slowly.”

“Maybe he heard it before,” Uhura said.

“What do you mean?”

“The space station was broadcasting until we shut it down. There’s a chance he heard the phrase and it initiated some kind of transformation.” Leonard heard her take a deep breath. “It might take a while, but we will get to the bottom of this.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for trying, Nyota. You know I appreciate it. Jim will too, once he’s conscious.”

“Give him time, Leonard,” Uhura said. “You know Kirk. Everything’s always gotta be on his terms.”

Leonard smiled. “Yeah, he’s a pain in the ass like that.”

“If I learn anything else, I’ll update you,” Uhura said. She ended the call.

“Well, I’ve got some patient charts to update and some vaccine protocols to review,” M’Benga said, standing up and stretching. He patted the chair. “All yours, boss.”

With all the dignity he could muster, Leonard planted himself on the chair and resumed his not so patient wait.

Chapter Text

He was floating in nothingness, body numb. It felt good. Felt peaceful. He wanted to stay here. Wanted to sleep. But he could feel himself surfacing, rising into heaviness and pain.

“Jim?”

He didn’t want to answer, but the voice pulled him further out of sleep, no matter how hard he fought it.

“Just a little more.”

Jim’s eyes cracked open. He frowned. There was darkness here, too. But it was louder. He could hear something pulsing, heard someone else breathing, felt a terrible ache between his eyes.

“It’s about time.”

“Bones?” Jim asked. He blinked hard, trying and failing to clear his vision. “You there?”

“Yeah." A warm hand cupped Jim's cheek. "Listen, ‘cause you’re gonna pass out again any second, the ship and the crew are safe and – ”

Jim had too much of a headache to pay much attention. He drifted back into the darkness, the floating feeling engulfing him again.

You have learned well from your betters.

The words swirled around him. He sunk into a dream of a sunset over water. He couldn’t hear the wash of the waves, only screams. The ground shook beneath him, tearing apart. Thrown into the sky, Jim couldn’t orient himself. Everything turned around him.

“C’mon, Jim. Wake up. You’re dreaming.”

Jim heard Bones, heard the ship’s familiar sounds, but he didn’t smell sickbay’s unique scent. Weird. He couldn’t open his eyes either, not with all the spinning. The whole universe danced around him, spinning and twirling until his head threatened to split open and –

“Get it all up, Jim. Better out than in.”

He threw up until the only thing coming out was bile. He felt a familiar hand rubbing his back. When he managed to open his eyes, he focused on the blue blur that was Bones.

“Lemme get you some ice to chew on, help with hydration and get rid of the taste,” Blurry Bones said. “Relax. I know you’re feeling pretty scrambled right now, but you’re a lot better than you were.”

He didn’t feel it. He’d felt pretty good floating around in nothingness until…

The sunset and the screaming.

“Stay with me, Jim. Open your eyes.”

He dragged them open. He didn’t want to do it, but he also really didn’t want the bile taste staying in his mouth.

Blurry Bones reappeared. He spooned ice into Jim’s mouth. The ice tasted amazing, the chill pushing the drowsiness away. Jim managed to keep his eyes open. “Ship in one piece?”

“Ship’s fine, crew’s fine, and you are almost back to your normal self,” Bones said.

“We’re out of the debris field?” Jim asked.

“Yeah. You cleared enough for us to get through,” Bones said. “No more cases of space sickness either.”

Great. That all sounded perfect.

“How are you feeling?” Bones asked.

“Uh…” How to even answer that question?

“Eyes open, Jim.”

He hadn’t even realized they weren’t open.

“Yeah, still not open, Jim,” Bones said.

It took a huge effort, but Jim managed to open them again. His head rolled against his pillow. “Everything was… floating. Spinning.”

“Sometimes we strap you back down but you float your way free anyway.”

Jim stared at the Bones Blur. “What?”

Bones pressed a hypospray to Jim’s neck. “Just don’t worry about it for now.”

Jim could do that. He felt himself giggling. “Don’t think I can worry ‘bout anything.”

A hand brushed over his hair. “Now, before you fade out on me again, are you still feeling nauseous?”

“Nope.” Jim let his eyes close again. “Head feels weird.”

“You still got a headache?”

“Nah.” Jim knew he was smiling. “Head’s too loose. Body’s a big ol’ lump.”

Bones snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Jim swallowed. “D’you need anything else from me?”

“Oh, so sorry to keep you,” Bones said. “Go on. Go back to sleep.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Jim mumbled.

He disappeared back into sleep.

It flashed through his dreams. Space all around him, littered with broken ships and shattered rocks. He held out a hand and they moved with his thoughts, following his every command. Power rushed through him in a warm, unrelenting torrent. He could move anything, do anything. Nothing could stop him.

A voice called to him, stuck on repeat.

Learn from your betters.

Learn.

Betters.

Learn from…

Over and over, until it filled his head and blotted out everything else. The voice boomed. He couldn’t get away from it, couldn’t silence it. His head pounded with it. It rose inside him, a tide of pain that he needed to get away from, needed to –

“Whoa! Jim! Wake up!”

Jim jolted upright. Several hands caught him before he fell off the biobed. Blinking hard, Jim’s vision cleared. Bones was there, M’Benga and Nurse Chapel too. Pain thundered through his head. He pressed a hand to his aching skull.

“Deep breaths, Jim,” Bones said. “You’re fine. Just getting rid of that last telekinetic energy.”

“What did I break?” Jim asked.

“Nothing we can’t replace,” M’Benga said. He stepped back, looking to Bones. “Let me finish up the scans. We might be able to use a neuro-suppressant now.”

“Nightmare, Jim?” Bones asked.

“No, I can hear –”

You have learned well from your betters.

“There’s a voice,” he said, cradling his head. “In my head. I can’t make it stop.”

“Your brain is still operating on a higher than normal level. Better than before, but still unusual,” Bones said. “What can you hear?”

“‘You have learned well from your betters’,” Jim said. He noted Bones’ strong reaction. “What?”

“Uhura thought it might be a trigger phase. One that could reverse the telekinesis. Looks like she was right and – ”

Bones’ words fell away beneath the chanting in Jim’s head. It drowned out everything. The pain rose anew, the pressure with it. Power gathered inside him, too much to control.

“Bones, get back!”

Jim spotted a chair at his bedside. He launched it into the far wall, leaving a massive dent.

Except the wall definitely wasn’t one in sickbay.

And the wall the chair did hit was too far away because...

Because all the other bulkheads had shattered.

“Is this the brig?” Jim asked. 

“It was the only place that could hold you,” Bones said.

If this was holding him, Jim could only imagine the damage he'd caused elsewhere. “Did I break sickbay?” he asked.

“No. It’s a long story,” Bones said. “Worry about it later.”

Jim panted for breath, body trembling. He fell back against the bed. Exhaustion wrapped around him, pulling him down. He looked up, saw Bones scanning him with a tricorder.

“Still hearing the voice?” Bones asked.

“No,” Jim said. He tried to raise his hands to press to his head, but he didn’t have the strength.

Bones nodded. “Your neurochemical levels just dipped again. It’s a good sign.”

Good sign? Jim squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on not throwing up. “Ready for this to be over,” he managed to spit out.

“I know you are,” Bones said. “But we’re almost through it, promise.”

“How long?” Jim asked.

“Have you been here?”

“Mmm.” The pain in his head was hitting migraine levels. Sounds hurt. Movement hurt.

He felt yet another hypo bite his neck.

If Bones answered his question, Jim was unconscious before he heard the answer.

Leonard sat in the mess hall with Uhura, the two of them nursing coffees and slices of peach cobbler. It was never too early for sweet treats aboard the Enterprise, especially after recent events.

“The species appear to have died out entirely," Uhura said, slicing up her piece of cobbler and popping a piece in her mouth. "The debris field? Absolutely was their planet. Spock’s team have found all kinds of remains upon closer examination, although nothing that could indicate biological remains. Many of the ships have similar designs, suggesting they too originated here. We have no way to tell what caused the destruction.” Uhura flipped her hair over her shoulder. “They were pretty self-assured. Cocky, really. The arrogance bleeds out of their written records, and we've barely begun the translation process. These people thought they were the greatest the universe had to offer, and wanted to spread their greatness to all they encountered.” Uhura took a sip of her coffee, leaning back in her chair. “Hence the message that was part of the triggering mechanism. ‘Learn from your betters’. From what we’ve translated, that seems to be their entire approach: we’re the best, so we must bring others up to our level.”

“That’s a helluva way to treat others,” Leonard said.

“Didn’t stop people from trying to reach the space station. From what we can tell, it was abandoned over two hundred years ago. Over the centuries, the planet’s debris field also became a ship graveyard.” Uhura handed over a PADD. “There are wreckages out there from countless species, none of whom are currently known to the Federation.”

Leonard felt his eyebrows raise. That meant they had a lot of First Contacts coming their way. And even more new diseases to worry about. He cut off another bite of cobbler. “What about the space station?”

“We’ve removed the remaining powercells. It’s just another wreck now,” Uhura said, sipping her coffee. “We’ve left warning buoys around the debris field too, just to be safe. Reactivating the station would be unwise.”

“Is Spock enjoying himself going over their scientific records?” Leonard asked. He’d found time to go over their medical records, found medicines that would be of huge benefit to the Federation if they could find a way to recreate them. “Arrogant though our mystery aliens may have been, they knew their stuff.”

“He’s putting together a proposal for the captain regarding several possible locations for further exploration, as well as a number of experiments he wishes to run on the elements we detected.” Uhura smiled over her mug. “I think our departments have enough to keep us all busy for a while. Especially engineering.”

“I’m sure Jim’s gonna be very apologetic once he can stay awake for longer than ten minutes at a time,” Leonard said.

“How is he?” Uhura asked.

“Better,” Leonard said. “Brain chemistry’s back to normal. He stopped throwing shit around the brig yesterday. He’s just sleeping off the exertion and the headache.”

“It’s been quiet without him,” Uhura said.

“Less explosive too,” Leonard said. “Scott thinks it’ll take a week to complete all the repairs. The isolation room won’t be up to Starfleet code until then, so tell Spock he better not fly us into anything contagious until it’s safe to do so.”

“We’d better avoid needing to use the brig too,” Uhura said, finishing off her cobbler.

Leonard drained his coffee. “Maybe we should stay put for the week.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Uhura asked with a smile. She stood. “Give Kirk my best.”

“You got it. And tell Spock not to visit until I tell him. I know Jim’ll probably get hold of a PADD and message him, but –”

“Always ignore Kirk until Spock’s heard from you first.” She reached over, squeezing Leonard’s hand. “Call me if you need backup. I can find plenty to occupy him with.”

“As always, Nyota, you’re too kind.” Leonard stood too. “Better go see if he’s coming around.”

“Sure you don’t want backup?”

Leonard laughed. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

They went their separate ways, Leonard always feeling calmer for his weekly coffee mornings with Nyota. She’d become a dear friend over the years. She understood him in a way few people did.

Although he wasn’t certain even Nyota Uhura would be able to make sense of a semi-drugged, barely conscious James T Kirk. He’d been chatty in his sleep, although none of it made sense. Given his recent brain activity, Leonard supposed he should be glad Jim could talk at all. Entering the brig, Leonard found Jim resting comfortably on his side, stirring but not awake yet. He checked over the readouts, noting with relief that, at long last, everything was registering as normal. No more telekinesis. No more fever from all the extra brainpower. Normal, regular, Jim Kirk.

Who could not sleep forever, even though he’d certainly tried.

Walking around the biobed, Leonard reached out to Jim, giving him a gentle shake. “C’mon, Jim, time to wake up.”

Jim’s eyes cracked open. Leonard watched his friend slowly coming up to speed. “Bones?” He looked around. “Is this the brig?”

“Yeah,” Leonard confirmed. Obviously Jim didn’t remember the last time they’d covered this. “It was the only place with the shields that could hold you. Well… Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Jim squinted at him. “What did I do?”

“Later, Jim.” Trust him to focus on anything other than himself. “How’s the head?”

“Fine,” Jim said. He yawned. “Think everything’s fine.”

“Believe it or not, I actually agree,” Leonard said. He reached over, adjusting the bed until Jim was more upright. “You’re yourself again.”

“The ship? The crew?”

“The ship’s almost back in one piece. You left a few dents.” He stepped back and revealed the wrecked state of the brig, including the decimated cells, wrecked observation posts, and the numerous shield emitters. “You’ve kept engineering busy.”

Jim had the good grace to blush.

“And the crew are fine. They’ve all enjoyed the relative peace and quiet.” Leonard held out a cup of water.

“Ha ha.” Jim took the water, sipping it. “How long have I been here?”

Uh oh. Leonard took the cup back from Jim. “Four days.”

“Four days?”

“Before you freak out, you should know that the first forty-eight hours were entirely your own doing.” Leonard watched the cogs turning. “You cleared a path for the ship. It was insane. We made it to the alien space station, found the source of the spatial anomaly and shut it down. You were unconscious for the entirety. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Jim asked.

“Take a look around,” Leonard said, stepping out of Jim’s line of sight. “Every dent, every smashed panel, every scratch, is courtesy of you. It took a lot to contain you.”

Jim was wide-eyed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t –”

“There was nothing you could do. And don’t worry, you didn’t hurt anyone.”

“But it’s over?” Jim asked.

“Yes,” Leonard said. “And as soon as you’ve eaten and look a little less pale, I’m happy for you to go to your quarters. You’ll be on light duties for another two days, just to give yourself a chance to get used to being regular old you again.” He held out the cup again.

Jim took it, sipping thoughtfully. “The voices I heard…”

“The alien species we encountered. Well, more like we encountered the memory of them.” Leonard leaned against the bed. “If they’re still alive, they’re not in this sector. Uhura’s team hasn’t finished with the historical records yet, but that debris field you cleared? A lot of that used to be a planet.”

“Huh,” Jim said.

Leonard frowned. “You alright?” It wasn’t like Jim to be incurious.

“I think I saw it in a dream,” he said. “Looking over the water at the sunset but then…” Jim shrugged. “It was just gone.” He rubbed his eyes.

“Jim?” Leonard asked. Had he missed something in a scan? Jim didn’t seem like himself. Brain damage couldn’t be ruled out after something like this.

“Hungry, I guess.” Jim smiled. “Don’t worry, Bones. I’m me again.”

“Let me disconnect you from everything, and we can go to my temporary office,” Leonard said, heading over to the wash station to clean his hands. The brig hadn’t been a terrible temporary sickbay, but Hendorff probably wanted his department back. “We’ll get you something to eat.”

“You’re actually letting me out of bed?” Jim asked, a hint of his usual humor suffusing his voice.

Leonard stared at him. “Unless you’d rather we kept feeding you nutrient supplements via IVs?”

“Release me this instant.”

There was the Jim Leonard knew so well. Five minutes later, Jim was slouched in a chair in Leonard’s temporary office, working his way through a bowl of pasta. By the time he was done, he looked ready to take another nap. His eyes were half-lidded and he had an impressive case of bed hair. He also looked deep in thought.

“What is it?” Leonard asked, knowing better than to let Jim Kirk brew on anything for too long. “Missing your superpowers already?”

“No.” Jim’s voice contained a certainty. Leonard was impressed. Once upon a time, Jim probably would’ve flaunted his telekinesis until it landed him in several people’s beds. Time had changed him. Calmed him. Focused him in ways Leonard hadn’t thought possible. “I’m trying to work it out.”

“Work what out?” Leonard asked. Trust Jim to already be a million miles ahead of him.

“The motivation,” he said. “Learn from your betters… Learn what?”

“How superior they considered themselves to be,” Leonard said. “Chekov found evidence aboard the space station to suggest these aliens would’ve had considerable telepathic and telekinetic abilities. They probably saw that as making them better than others.”

“What if it wasn’t that?” Jim asked, tapping his fork against his bowl. “What if it all overwhelmed them? Their planet’s gone after all, and they might be too. Hell, we don’t even have a name or an image of their species. Maybe this is their way of teaching a lesson.”

“The word ‘betters’ doesn’t exactly suggest humility, Jim.”

“Hmmm.” Jim sat back. “Not what I meant.”

“All I see is a dead alien species who used a spatial anomaly to alter anyone who didn’t meet their expectations,” Leonard said. Trust Jim to wake up in a philosophical frame of mind.

“What if it’s that and more?” Jim asked. “‘Learn from your betters’. We’re better than you, but also it destroyed us, so we’ll destroy you too if you become too powerful like we did.”

“That’s one helluva way to pass on a message,” Leonard said. “And a pretty big leap in logic.”

Jim laughed, dispelling the room’s heavy mood. “What did Professor Janeway always say in our ethics classes?”

“Don’t apply human reasoning to alien cultures,” Leonard quoted.

“Exactly,” Jim said. He stood up, pushing his empty bowl over to Leonard. “I’m gonna head back to my quarters.”

“Fine,” Leonard said. “I’m serious about light duties. I don’t mind Spock coming down to talk to you, but if I catch wind of you heading up to the bridge…”

“…you’ll forcibly sedate me and have me dragged back down here? Because I’ll actually need to be in the brig for insubordination?”

“Ah, Jim, you know me so well.”

Jim grinned. “Yes, I do.”

Leonard pointed to the door. “Go on, get. And take a damn shower. The smell of you is offensive to at least five of the species aboard this ship, and I’m including humans.”

Jim got to his feet. “Aye, sir. Reporting to the shower in my quarters, sir.” He was headed to the door in a second.

“I’ll check up on you at the end of my shift,” Leonard called after him.

Jim waved and then he was gone.

Leonard leaned back in his chair. Another alien encounter survived.

He’d pour himself a celebratory shot the moment he was off duty.

Freshly showered and dressed in sweatpants and his ageing Starfleet Academy t-shirt, Jim got to work tidying his quarters. Spotting the model of the Kelvin, he tried to reach out with his mind, but the feeling that had accompanied his telekinesis was gone. Now, all he could do was remember what it had been like.

The power… It’d been…

Fun.

Exciting.

Intoxicating.

Dangerous.

And ultimately, not meant for him.

You have learned well from your betters.

He had. There was nothing wrong with being a nice, normal, garden variety human being who didn’t accidentally punch holes in the bulkheads of starships when he got distracted. He could only imagine what an entire planet full of uncontrollable psychics could do.

Smiling to himself, Jim reached out, plucking the Kelvin off the floor with his hand. There was definitely a lesson in this. Absolute power et cetera, et cetera…

Quarters back in order, Jim grabbed his PADD off the shelf he’d left it on and took a seat at his desk. He accessed the work being carried out on the alien species and dug into the translation of their computer archives. He wasn’t really sure what he was looking for. Maybe an idea of their biology, or a concept of their history. Instead, it looked as though the crew had focused on translating everything to do with what’d happened to him.

He needed to stop getting in so much trouble.

What was of interest were the star charts that had been pulled out of the space station’s database. They went far beyond what the Enterprise had picked up on scanners so far. The charts were hundreds of years old, but it wasn’t as though planets got up and moved. Some of the planets listed in the unknown alien database were M-Class and full of life. Maybe these worlds would know more about the species who thought others needed to learn from their betters. Jim had to admit the mysterious aliens were a source of curiosity now. It was a puzzle, one probably better suited for the Federation’s xenobiology and anthropology specialists. Still, it was something to research while they were out here.

The door chime sounded. “Come,” Jim called.

Spock entered. “Captain, Doctor McCoy suggested I visit you. It is good to see you fully recovered.”

Jim stood. “Yeah, sorry about the damage I caused.”

“I believe that apology should be reserved for Mr Scott,” Spock replied. “However, had you not cleared a path through the debris field, it is highly likely that the ship would have been far more seriously damaged, if not outright destroyed.”

“Always the optimist, Spock,” Jim said.

“It is logic, Captain.”

Of course it was. “So, what have you been doing while I was asleep?”

“We have continued mapping the area, and the star charts taken from the space station have proven highly useful, despite their age,” Spock said.

“Still no sign of the species themselves?” Jim asked.

“None,” Spock said. “However, I believe I have found something that may be of interest to you.” He pulled a PADD out of his pocket and handed it over. “Lieutenant Uhura found it in the communication network. She believes it should have been transmitted along with the spatial anomaly that caused your telekinesis. She also assures me that watching the video will not cause any adverse affects.”

Taking the PADD, Jim hit play on the paused video. The screen filled with a familiar sunset. It still filled him with a sense of peace and relaxation, even with the memory of the screams and the explosion.

Until a face replaced it.

The alien creature appeared humanoid, with skin as white as an Aenar. Their eyes were huge, and a deep, burning orange like the sunset. In place of a nose were two large slits, and their mouth was far smaller than a human’s.

“We are your betters,” said a surprisingly deep voice. “We are the guardians of this universe. Ours was an empire that should have lived for eternity, had we not fallen foul of our own greatness. It makes sense that we alone defeated ourselves. And as such, given our most gracious nature, it falls to us to teach our lessers a lesson they will not learn from any other.”

“It’s gonna be a great lesson,” Jim muttered.

“A moment, Captain,” Spock advised.

“Power is wondrous. Power is life. Power saves, and power creates. But too much is destructive, and too much will annihilate the greatest of us.”

The message ended with the shot of a stunning sunset over an immense city. Orange, red, pink, gold. It was beautiful.

The screen went blank. Jim blinked. “Is that it?” he asked.

Spock plucked the PADD out of his hands. “That is, as you say, it, Captain.”

Jim found himself laughing. “That’s a helluva way to tell someone power corrupts.”

“I am reminded of Professor Janeway’s teachings at the Academy regarding interspecies ethics,” Spock said.

“Yeah, Bones and I covered that one already,” Jim said. “It’s pretty arrogant of them to think no other species would learn their lesson about the corrupting nature of power.”

“Unfortunately, without further information on their species, there is little more we can say about them,” Spock said.

“That’s why we’re out here, Spock.”

“In this case, I do not believe these aliens would consider themselves new lives or new civilizations. Based on what we have learned thus far, they pre-date many of the Federation’s members own warp capabilities. To them, our races would seem infantile.”

Jim fought off a yawn. He didn’t have the energy yet for a full debate. Especially not with Spock. “How about a game of chess?”

“I would enjoy that,” Spock said.

“Great,” Jim said. “I think we’re overdue for a rematch.”

“Given that I am ahead by five matches, it hardly constitutes a rematch,” Spock replied.

“That,” Jim said, setting up his three-dimensional board. “Is a challenge I am willing to accept.”

Spock’s only response was a twitch of the eyebrow.