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Nero’s voice still rang in his head, even as he snagged a fresh EVA suit and forced himself not to gag at the scent of replicated materials that had a faint scorched scent of the actual replicator itself. He punched down his sense of smell and dragged on the suit. He turned his attention inward for a second as he stepped into the suit and started dragging it up his hips, squirming a bit as he went.
The EVAs weren’t tight, and he could control the hints of claustrophobia that any person tended to have when they were stuffing themselves into one of the suits. He left the helmet on the seat as he flicked his fingers through various motions, mentally playing with an old keypad in his head.
Jim figured he could compensate for that sort of a loss in dexterity. He slid down both his sense of smell and sense of touch, even as he punched in a quick request code he remembered from his two months on the Jefferson the summer before. A small bottle of peppermint oil shimmered into existence. Jim used the dropper to completely numb out his sense of smell by dragging the clear aluminum dropper under each nostril. He then hurried towards where the shuttle waited, tucking the bottle into a small pocket on the suit, helmet cradled under one arm.
Jim watched Olson sniff and look around as he settled into a bucket seat. Jim pulled out the small bottle and shrugged, gesturing towards his face. The engineer frowned but pulled out a flask and passed it across. Jim only had to breathe in to catch the fumes from a rather potent peppermint schnapps. He grimaced, shook his head, and passed the flask over to Sulu without taking a drink. Sulu drank and handed it back to Kirk. Jim grinned.
“Chris! Heads up!” He called, before he tossed the flask through the empty space between his seat and the open blast doors that separated the cockpit from the rest of the shuttle. The Captain of the Enterprise caught the flask and took a quick nip. He then tossed the flask back and Jim dropped it into Olson’s stunned hands.
“If we are going to pull off something insane, the right people might at least be buzzed about it.” Jim quipped. He heard Chris chuckle from his place at the helm. Olson was moonbelly pale as he shoved the flask into a chest pocket.
“Captain --”
“Save it. These bastards killed my best friend. A flask is nothing I haven’t seen before. Hell, most of the Admiralty has carried one at some point in the past. I don’t mind a last drink. Thanks for thinking of me Jim. Now, gentlemen, you will get one shot at this. If you don’t land it? You will not be coming back. The Enterprise is without communication or the ability to beam you back. Destroy that drill, by any means. Good luck.”
“Lock and load, gentlemen.” Jim muttered as he secured his helmet. He felt Sulu’s gloved hands as they started checking his back, making sure the seals were correct. He did the same for Olson, his touches perfunctory as he checked off each piece, tugging at various fastenings to ensure that they’d be able to make the jump without pressure being the thing that killed them.
***
Jim and Sulu both made the platform. Olson, the explosives, and his schnapps did not. Jim had a moment to curse that fact. The next instant, Jim heard the grate of metal against metal and turned to his left. The Romulan was hulking -- a mass of muscle and rage, with tattoo lines that are different from Nero’s. A bare moment is all Jim has to register that fact before a fucking sword flashed through the air, swung for a midbody strike,
Lurching out of the way, Jim twisted as his brain tried to rabbit on him. T’Kaya’s voice hissed Tash! through his memory as green blood flecked her lips. He snapped back into the present, her voice still ringing in his ears as he allowed ‘Fleet Combat Training to come to the fore. For an instant he heard the cackle of a hyena and he smiled.
As the sword ricocheted off one of the black EVA suit’s seals, he stepped in closer, trying to negate the reach that the weapon gave his opponent. Flame gouted up to the left, Jim sucks in a shaking breath even as he ducks a fist -- filing away that information, brain spinning through calculation for pressure, angle, pitch -- even as he manages to get an elbow through and aims high. He hoped for a throat shot.
Hearing spiking -- Jim actually heard his elbow crush soft tissue -- as he lashed out, the esophageal tissue collapsed and the Romulan choked. Gliding past, Jim reached up, even as his trailing foot shot out. Pushing hard, the enemy went lurching out towards Vulcan’s red deserts.
Jim only had seconds to catch his breath. Twisting around, he checked for Sulu. The man seems to be easily holding his own. Jim is impressed -- at least two Romulans are sprawled face down on the deck of the drill and Sulu is skewering a third right as Jim’s second dance partner scuttled out of the open hatch.
The new guy was slightly shorter -- by perhaps a handspan -- than the first. He actually raised his fists. Jim’s response is a bloody smile. It is exactly the kind of thing he excelled at. No one in the Academy had taken Jim up on bare hand sparring for at least a year and a half.
The first punch rattled his confidence and then he grinned, blood pouring from a split lip. He sidestepped the second blow and then lashed out with a foot, easily giving up any concept of ‘fair play’ as he settled in to do serious damage with only his hands. Jim kept away from a Zone by flicking through the four of five senses he did have enhanced.
Jim hitched in a breath when a bright spear of silver bloomed through the chest of the Romulan. He met Sulu’s eyes over the dying man’s shoulder. Sulu stepped back. He raised an eyebrow and Sulu shrugged. Jim’s attention snapped to the hatch again as it opened and two Romulans boiled out. Jim took a breath and stepped forward again, Sulu at his left shoulder.
Jim closed his eyes as tears were ripped from his eyes by Vulcan’s dry winds. He was pragmatic as he plummeted towards the planet’s surface. He’d deliberately thrown himself after one of his people. He made an adjustment in his calculations and straightened himself out, helping himself get that slightly faster falling speed he needed. Slamming into Sulu hurt like a bitch, but he grabbed the other man and just allowed themselves to tumble over and over for a few seconds before he tightened his grip around one wrist and prepared to force himself to kick free.
***
They slammed into something hard the next second later. Jim groaned as Sulu thudded down on top of him. Chekov cheering suddenly registered. Jim sucked in a pained breath and tasted ship recycled air -- there was still a faint trace of a too sweet metallic compound that he remembered from the perfume.
“Clear the pad, I am beaming down to the surface.”
Jim’s attention snapped to the Vulcan and his hearing zeroed in on that too fast heartbeat. He automatically checked it against what he had stored at the tribunal. Much, much faster. Sulu scrambled off him. Jim lay there for an instant, worried, and then levered himself upright and off the pad.
White light engulfed Spock. Jim waited precisely two of Chekov’s heartbeats before he vaulted up the steps. “Sulu? You have the bridge. Mr. Chekov? Beam me down, same co-ordinates. That’s an order.”
“Vat?” Chekov asked right as Sulu acknowledged the order.
“Got it, Mr. Kirk. Do it, Pavel. He’s Acting First.” Sulu said. Chekov only blinked, nodded, and hit the correct controls.
Jim came down about a foot from where Spock was running up a path. Jim took half a breath, to test how well the tri-ox was still working, his breathing tried to hitch, but he figured it would do. He then went from standing to a full out run, knowing it was the only way to keep up with a Vulcan going full tilt.
Jim locked himself into Spock’s heartbeat. He memorized it, knowing he’d probably have to find it amidst a lot of very frightened individuals. T’Kaya had disabused him of the idea that ‘Vulcans do not feel emotions’ years ago. She had not been able to hide the fact she was scared at times, when they were forced to meld to keep Jim’s active projective Empathy from reaching out past their little group of terrified survivors.
Jim jagged left as a mini-quake shook down red stone nearly on his head. He grimaced at the green blooded pulp at his feet. Somebody hadn’t been as lucky. He forced himself to keep up, tracking the flash of Science blue that showed him the correct turns and the right junctions.
“The planet's not safe, it has only seconds left -- we must evacuate now --.” Spock stated. Jim nodded politely to a female elder and took the woman’s elbow, not bothering to do more than smile and gesture towards the entrance. The mini-quakes had Jim automatically shielding the woman each time, and then a choked off whimper caught his ear. His head swiveled and he spotted a small girl cowering in a corner. He let go of the older woman’s elbow and lunged for the child, scooping the kid up with a soft grunt as heavier vulcan muscle registered. He shifted her weight into a more comfortable carry and darted back to the group. He glanced over as another elder followed his lead, snagging a child from a dark recess and clutching the boy close. Each person did so, others reaching out and jerking small forms to them.
They hit daylight at a run. Jim realized he was next to a cowled woman and did a quick check of the group. He saw Spock doing the same. Jim tapped his suit, “Kirk to Enterprise… pull us up, now!”
“Aye, Mr. Kirk.” Chekov responded. White light started to swirl around them as another mini-quake shook the ground. Jim’s hand darted out as the cowled figure wavered. His hand clamped around the thin wrist and he hauled the form closer to his body as rock dropped away. They vanished in the next second.
Jim resolved clutching child and cowled figure on the very edge of the platform. He staggered as the figure’s weight tipped him the millimeters necessary over the edge and he fell. He twisted so that the child and the figure landed on him and not on the floor.
A snarl of challenge rent the air. Jim twisted automatically, putting himself bodily between the child, the cowled figure and a pissed off male vulcan. He came up fast and hard, and snarled in return, facing off against a Vulcan male in dark robes.
Jim’s gaze flicked over the man, attention focusing sharply. Something at the back of his brain suggested he back down. A small noise from the child extinguished that idea instantly. He took a breath and blinked, even as he bent his knees.
“Move away from my Wife!” The man snarled. Jim glared and shook his head ever so slightly in the negative. He spread his arms out to shield her, even as his brain was rummaging around for any fact of child marriages in Vulcan culture.
“Mr. Kirk. My sa-mehk means no harm to my ko-mehk.” Spock said. Jim’s gaze flicked to Spock and then back to the dark clad Vulcan. He shook his head again. A small hand touched his shoulder. Jim blinked and tipped his head to the side. He isolated the heartbeat that belonged to the person touching him and frowned. Too slow.
“A Bonded Sentinel cannot harm his Guide. He will not hurt me.” Her voice was soft. Jim turned his head and got a good look at the woman’s face. Spock’s eyes stared back at him from a human face. Everything clicked for Jim and he nodded. Then the whine of the engines changed. He twisted towards the woman, snagged her easily about the waist and pulled her to the floor, tucking himself around her even as Enterprise suddenly lurched.
“What the hell?!” Bones grumbled. Jim frowned, wondering the same, even as his other hand flashed out and caught the child he had been carrying. He stopped her slide across the floor, back into the stairs that led up to the transporter. The Vulcans all lurched but managed to maintain their feet. Equipment that wasn’t secured rattled and slid across the floor. Jim kicked a box in another direction, to keep it off his legs.
“Enterprise is moving away from the resulting singularity.” Spock’s voice explained. Jim nodded once and unwrapped from around Spock’s Mom and the kid. He lets go of the cowl wrapped woman, realizing he had fallen into the instinctive need to protect a Guide from harm.
“Amanda?” The Vulcan man asked, even as Jim carefully tugged the child to standing and crouched in front of her.
“I am unharmed. That’s all he was trying to do. You are a Sentinel, aren’t you?”
“Sentinel?” Spock asked. Jim glanced up and nodded once, answering Amanda even as he focused on the child.
“Klau?” He asked, waiting for either a nod or a shake of her head. The child merely blinked, so Jim tipped his head slightly to one side and ran his hands gently across the child’s arms, wrists, and briefly across her hands.
“I’m not hearing the obvious noises for fluid rushing to fractures, and there’s too much terror in the air from all of us to be able to detect much more. I apologize for brushing across your hands, Miss. I just wished to ensure that you were not harmed.”
This time the girl nodded. Jim belatedly glanced towards Bones and is relieved to see that the Doctor-Guide is already pointing his tricorder at a potential patient.
“Bones? You okay?”
“Fine, Jim. Merely bumped. You?”
“Sore, but I expect that, fighting, Sulu landing on me, running after Spock, falling again, taking the shock from Amanda and the kid, I’m good though. Check them first. I can wait. Can’t feel anything odd.” Of course, Jim doesn’t mention the time he ran for a week with a very badly broken ankle during Tarsus. T’Kaya had blunted the pain to the point Jim had barely been aware of it. He twitched when the Vulcan male moved forward but Amanda stepped into his embrace without a flinch, so Jim let her go.
“Your name, Miss?” Jim asked, attention focusing again on the child.
“T’Vai, Sentinel.” Her eyes dropped. Jim heard the hint of a hyena’s snarl in warning and he spun to the side, once again stepping in front of the child. Spock stood to his left.
“Your wrist isn’t in the correct configuration. By your permission, Sentinel?” Spock asked, head tipped ever so minutely to one side. Jim frowned but nodded, shooting a quick glance towards Bones, to check to see if he had heard. He also drew up his shields, not sure if Spock’s telepathy was frayed after the loss of his planet, but knowing better than to be caught in such a backlash. Spock’s too warm fingers gently closed over his wrist. Jim hissed in pain.
“Fractured at the very least, Sentinel Kirk.”
“I know.”
“I’m certain your Guide can assist you in correcting your perceptions.” Spock responded, shooting a glance over towards Bones. Jim snorted slightly and then winced. Either he had massive bruising down his left side, or ribs had snapped. He frowned and knew he couldn’t afford an internal check without an anchor. His senses were skewed right now to the point he was inching towards zoning.
Jim glanced down at the fact that Spock’s fingers were still cradling his wrist. Spock started to loosen his grip and Jim made a protesting noise.
“I have overstepped my bounds, Sentinel, I ask your forgiveness, and that of your Bonded.”
“Jim doesn’t have a Guide, Commander. Keep him still for me?” Spock blinked but nodded as the Doctor materialized next to them. “Damn it, Kid. You busted a wrist and it looks like you mucked your ribs up good. What did you do, run into a truck?” Bones grumbled.
Jim choked off a laugh. Shit, that hurt. He shook his head and realized his free hand was at Spock’s hip. He was instinctively grounding himself on the minimal connection of hot skin against his wrist.
“Spock! Your conduct does not become your House.”
Jim’s attention shifted over Spock’s shoulder to the Sentinel that stood with Spock’s mother. Jim quirked his eyebrows.
“Pen-nil-bek, Nenat.” Jim murmured, pitching his voice for another Sentinel’s hearing and using Vulcan. The man blinked. Jim had identified him right, he was a Prime. He continued in Standard, speaking a bit louder, “I am at the edge of the Abyss and he is providing enough of an Anchor not to fall. His conduct honors his Clan and his Teachers.”
Jim saw Spock’s startled expression and he ignored Bones glare before he turned his head and spoke directly to his friend. “Spock’s a perfect complementary Anchor, Bones. I think I can get the pain thresholds re-set before you start mucking with my ribs and shit. I need a True Compliment right now, Bones. You’d distract me too much. Spock… somehow... doesn’t.”
“All right, Jim. He’s teetering, Spock. Keeps edging towards Zone. He’s been hit with a full dose of Prometonizine already once this week. Can you hold him steady enough to re-set his own thresholds and call him back?”
“I am a fully trained Guide, Doctor-Guide. I shall not fail a Sentinel in need.” Spock responded, dark eyes flashing briefly. His attention went back to the Sentinel that wavered slightly under his touch.
“I ride a dark wind. Will you be my stillness in the storm?” Jim asked, remaining in Standard, but using the vulcan phrasing, the way T’Kaya had taught him. It was a formal request of a Sentinel to a Guide, asking for an Anchoring.
“I stand as your shelter amidst the raging dust and howling winds.” Spock responded, eyebrow quirking up. Jim nodded, took a breath and closed his eyes, letting his body take up his entire consciousness.
Blood thrummed and rushed through his ears, each breath was a roar. His heart was a steady drum and pain nearly dropped him to his knees as he became fully aware of abused muscle and fractured bone. He knew he made some noise and then he felt a touch against his face and the pain lessened.
He projected a wordless relief outwards, recognizing a superficial meld when he felt one. He used that to set his thresholds higher, pushing up his pain tolerance, closing portions of his mind further to the agony of each breath as it pulled at broken ribs and strained muscles.
He felt the hand draw away from his meld points and then blinked as vulcan slipped through his focus and pulled him back into the wider world.
“Sarlah-tor, Klashausu Nenat!”
Jim blinked and obeyed the command. His response was given only when he was focused. He kept his tone respectful as he replied. “Zhu-tor, Kakhartausu.”
“God. Jim, speak Standard please?” Bones muttered.
“I’m fine, Bones. Lemme guess, you used Standard and it didn’t register?” Jim glanced at Spock, who still held his wrist.
“Correct, Sentinel. However, the Vulcan language did.” An eyebrow quirked up.
“My Training Anchor was a Vulcan Guide in very… trying circumstances. I always react to Vulcan. And I thank you for steadying me there. Your Teachers were truly the best. Your Clan is exemplary through your actions.” Jim said, stepping back and giving a slight bow to the Commander. The Guide nodded once, dark eyes closing and ear tips slightly darkening green.
“Keptin Spock, vhat are your orders?” Chekov asked, voice respectful. Jim’s attention fixed on Spock as he settled back into his role as second in command.
“What is the trajectory of Nero?”
“Guessing from vhat ve saw vith the ion trail… deeper into Federation territory, Kommander.” Chekov said. Jim blinked at that. He knew just how lucky they were at the moment. For some very fucked up reason the psychotic Romulan had allowed Enterprise to survive wholesale slaughter that had obliterated eight ships -- almost the entirety of the Auxiliary Fleet.
“Then we must rendezvous with the Fleet. Set a course for the Laurentian System.”
“Aye Keptin.” Chekov responded. Jim dipped his head and turned to follow the whizkid. Spock cleared his throat and Jim paused, head turning.
“Mr. Kirk, would you please escort our honored guests to quarters?”
“Of course, Captain.” Jim responded. Spock nodded once and withdrew. Jim turned towards the various Vulcans and hid a smile as he realized that Amanda had put an arm around the young girl he had grabbed up on instinct.
Jim took a breath and blinked, shoving down his sense of smell. There were too many vulcans, too close, and far too many that had been outright terrified just prior to beam up that it nearly made him Zone. He dug his nails once more into his left hand, trusting pain to keep him in control.
He grabbed a few red shirted cadets to help spread the load out and between the four of them, they managed to get all the Vulcans into various diplomatic suites. Jim personally escorted the Sentinel Prime and his Guide Prime and the young girl to a suite. Jim deliberately met the Vulcan’s gaze and narrowed his eyes.
“Sentinel Prime Kirk? On behalf of my people, I thank you for what you attempted to do, and for what you have already done.”
“I just wish I could have managed more, sir.” Jim responded, looking away now that he had been acknowledged with the correct status by a ‘visiting’ Prime.
Jim bowed briefly and then withdrew. He took a deep breath in the corridor, adjusting his slides, making certain he’d be able to deal with whatever would be thrown at him next. He also had a bone to pick with Spock as his Executive Officer. He also knew that he had to see Bones before anything else. The pain would only remain dormant for so long.
Bones only pointed and Jim stood still long enough for his wrist to be knit back together and his ribs patched. He barely hissed when a hypo was jammed into his neck. He blinked as his eyes watered. Vitamin shot. Again. He glared. Bones just shrugged.
"Try to keep your head on your tom-fool body, and get back to what you were doing, get me, Sunshine?" Bones growled. Jim nodded, knowing he'd scared his friend simply by the fact the man was using ridiculous nicknames. He vacated Medbay with due haste and turned towards a turbo-lift. He only glanced up when a cowled vulcan in dark robes glided up next to him, hands tucked into long sleeves. He nodded politely. Sudden shooting pain in his shoulder and a hint of dust was his only memory as he toppled headlong into blackness.