"Planet NC1 701," Captain Kirk mused, gazing passionately into the middle distance. "A true pastoral jewel. Sparsely inhabited." He leaned forward in his chair, elbow cocked on the arm rest, fingers thoughtfully stroking his chin, his lips quirked into a gallant smile. It was possible, Elizabeth thought, that in his mind, he was already admiring the vistas of NC1 701. His expression hardened minutely as he continued, "It lies...deep inside Wraith space...well beyond the limits established by Dr. Peter Grodin, before his...untimely demise." At this, he pounded one fist gently against the table. Peter's death still grieved him deeply, but he mastered himself, and went on. "It's of vital strategic importance--to every hive ship in the quadrant. Dr. Weir--" He focused on her, his entire body radiating intensity. "I propose--that my team--Lieutenant Uhura, Dr. McCoy, and Spock of the Athosians--attempt a reconnaissance of the planet, in the hopes of...finding some...weakness of the Wraith."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but Rodney beat her to it. "Are you crazy?" he yelped. "You'll die a dozen times over before you even reach the planet's surface."

"Logically," Spock said, "it would not be possible for any individual or group to die a dozen times, since our team is comprised of four people, none of whom is in any way immortal."

Elizabeth caught Teyla's gaze and raised an eyebrow. This was not the first time Spock had tried reason Rodney out of his hysteria. It wasn't having a noticeable effect so far.

"Spock is a member of a small group of Athosians dedicated to a philosophy known as Kolinahr," Teyla explained. "He shuns emotion in favour of making logical decisions. Followers of Kolinahr have kept my people alive when panic might otherwise have overwhelmed us."

"Yes, well, what's very logical about this plan is that it is going to fail," said Rodney. "That planet is surrounded by cruisers and darts. It's insanity."

"Believe me, son, I've tried telling him that," Dr. McCoy said. "It hasn't swayed him yet."

"And your team is willing to volunteer for this mission?" Elizabeth asked.

"If we can help the people on that planet..." Lieutenant Uhura said, in her soft, musical voice. "It's our duty to try."

Elizabeth nodded, and steepled her fingers in front of her. "Captain Kirk, your plan doesn't leave much room for us to help you, if you run into trouble," she said.

"To be precise," said Spock, "we would be two thousand, five hundred and sixty-seven point eight light-years away, necessitating thirty-nine years, one month, ten days, sixteen hours, and forty-seven minutes to reach at a puddlejumper's top speed, with only a twelve point two percent chance of a successful rescue."

Rodney nodded. "Exactly, yes. So you see, it's a dumb idea, really. No one should be sent to their eighty-seven-point-eight-percent chance of death on a whim."

"On the contrary, Dr. McKay. The knowledge gained about the Wraith's abilities and weaknesses would be an exemplary addition to our tactical database. The participants in the mission must, of course, be aware that the good of the many is greater than the good of the few." Spock raised an eyebrow at Rodney. "Or the one."

Rodney sputtered and started waving his hands around, ranting about a perfectly rational, healthy, and, yes, logical-thank-you-very-much appreciation for life, until one flailing arm nearly knocked Elizabeth's mug right out of her hands. He stopped to apologize, but she had the feeling it was more to the coffee he'd almost spilled than to her.

"Gentlemen," she said. "I agree that we stand a lot to gain from the mission you're proposing. But I'm still concerned about the risks. If Dr. McKay and Mr. Spock are right--"

"Which of course they are," Dr. McCoy said. Both Spock and Rodney paused, mouths already open to defend their calculations, then they met each other's eyes and said nothing, Spock with an infinitesimal shrug and Rodney with a long-suffering sigh.

"Dr. Weir," Captain Kirk said, wrapping his hands around hers (which still clung tightly to the mug), "we can't let this opportunity escape. Yes, there is a risk! No mission--to an alien world--from another galaxy--could ever be...exactly what we predict. But...we are all adventurers. Each one of us. In our own way. You, Dr. Weir...are here for the adventure. And maybe it is time that we took this risk. If the benefits are half of what they could be, then--the risk is worth it."

Elizabeth's mouth quirked, whether in amusement or annoyance she wasn't quite sure. Captain Kirk was a charmer, with his warm hazel eyes and his boyish grin. One glimpse of his rakish good looks was enough to turn most women into Harlequin romance covers, complete with soft focus lenses. The illusion was broken, however, when he opened his mouth. Did he honestly think that she was going to melt and give his team a go because he twinkled at her? She gently took her hands back from their hostage situation. The mission was certainly important, and none of Kirk's team was backing down. Doubtless, they understood the dangers better than she did. Kirk was probably heroically looking forward to them. "All right," she said. "I'm still a little concerned about the plan, but each of you has made good points. You have a go."

They all started to leave the office, when John raised a hand from where he was leaning against the back wall, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Wait, wait, there's only one thing I don't get," he said. "That rescue mission scenario? Has a success probability of only twelve point one eight. Shouldn't you have mentioned that in your threat assessment, Spock?"

Spock turned to John, blinked twice, and said, "Twelve point one eight three, Colonel, but in the interests of expedience..."

Rodney folded his arms across his chest, glaring from Spock to John and back again. "Lunch started fifteen minutes ago," he said peevishly. "They're serving almost-meatloaf with sort-of pudding for dessert, Ronon is out there right now taking my spot in line, and you--" He rounded on John, "want to argue about math. The math of the death of people who aren't me." He shook his head and flicked his fingers at Spock. "And you! The meeting is over. You have a go. So go."

John rolled his eyes. "Fine, Rodney, we're going. And I promise, you can have my pudding."

Rodney's eyes lit up. "You're forgiven. Now, hustle."

Elizabeth followed them out of her office. Kirk and Uhura debated what supplies would be necessary, while Spock explained his threat-assessment calculations to a chortling McCoy. "Owned!" McCoy said. "Sorry, Spock, but you were just owned. By a human. Whose biggest job around here, far as I can see, is shooting things and flying really fast."

Elizabeth shook her head. From the direction of the transporter, John and Rodney were debating whether or not what the mess was producing these days could really be called pudding, and then, just before the doors closed, Rodney said in a loud and carrying voice (basically, his usual voice), "Twelve point one eight two seven. Actually."

Planet NC1 701 filled the jumper's forward view, a marvel of cerulean ocean and verdant land masses. Lieutenant Uhura, at the puddlejumper's controls, had cloaked the ship, and neatly evaded every Wraith dart that passed, all unknowing, within a mile radius of their position.

Kirk contemplated the planet, leaning forward eagerly from his position in the copilot's seat. Uhura had the Ancient gene to an unusual degree, nearly as strong as Colonel Sheppard's own; it was as though her entire life had prepared her to speak for the Atlantean computers. She was a fine officer and a beautiful woman, and her dark, luminous eyes never wavered from the puddlejumper's screens as she calmly steered them through the enemy fleet.

"In all the cosmos, I have...rarely had the privilege of seeing a planet so...beautiful, so wondrous, so...imperiled," Kirk said. "After proceeding through the Stargate, we are...making our final approach. Due to Lieutenant Uhura's skillful flying, we have remained...undetected. However, the risk--once we have landed on the surface of this...amazing world...will surely increase. Perhaps only the Ancestors--from their long-forgotten graves--could tell us...what we are about to encounter."

"...Riiight," came Dr. Weir's voice from the radio after a short pause. "We'll expect your next transmission in three hours. Good luck, Captain."

Kirk nodded. "Gentlemen," he said to Bones and Spock, sitting behind him in the rear of the jumper's cockpit. "Our mission is one of strict reconnaissance. The hive ship on the planet's surface is our objective."

"Jim, are you sure--"

Kirk shook his head. "Bones, don't worry. I don't plan on any unnecessary heroics."

"You've had to eat those words before." Bones reached into his pack and drew out his field first aid kit. "I have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen down there, Captain. And you're behind on your vaccinations. Carson asked me to make sure you'd had all your shots before we got to NC1 701."

Kirk grinned at him and extended his arm. "Of course, Doctor. Spock, report?"

"I can sense only one Wraith awake in that hive," Spock said. "Like Teyla, however, I can be fooled by distance or if the Wraith are hibernating."

"If they're hibernating, they won't bother us. Lieutenant, take us in."

Uhura brought the puddlejumper through NC1 701's atmosphere, landing them in a small gully only a few thousand yards from the hive ship. Kirk made sure all his team had their P-90s at the ready, although Spock, for philosophical reasons, carried only the traditional Athosian fighting sticks, which he called lirpas.

They hiked through the vegetation until they could make out the unnatural mountain that was the hibernating Wraith ship. Its entrances were deserted, and Kirk easily led the way deeper into its corridors. They were nearly at the central computer room, when the sound of Wraith stunners whirred through the air.

Captain Kirk saw his team fall to the ground, even as he was overcome.

He came to with a Wraith queen standing over him. She was a creature of terrible, alien beauty, pale-skinned and with titian locks flowing down to her gown, which was as white as fresh ivory. She smiled gently at him, tilting her head, her sharp teeth gleaming in the bluish light of her sanctuary. "Captain Kirk," she said.

"Yes," he answered, standing up warily. Her guards were just outside the small room. He was unarmed, but his hands were free.

"You have come to take information from the Wraith," she said. "Is this situation...to your liking?"

"Where are my people?" he demanded.

The queen ran her finger along the side of his face, her feeding claw chill and sharp against his cheek. "They are my guests, Captain. Surely you cannot object to that?"

Kirk fought down his growing desire to agree with her--to do anything to please her. "On Earth," he said, "there is a predator known as a wolf. It is a strong, beautiful animal, which hunts in packs to cull the weaker members from the herds of its prey. It is...a fierce creature, and completely amoral."

"What is the point of this?"

"And," Kirk said, "it inhabits all our baser nightmares. Even though it only feeds to satisfy its hunger...humans have long thought it to be evil."

"They fear it?" the Wraith queen asked. "They bow before it? Then we are alike."

"No," Kirk said. "You are evil. You use...fear and panic to dominate the galaxy. And that is your weakness, because humans have a power--a power so strong, and so beyond your comprehension--that you will never know it, until we use it to defeat you."

"And what is that power?"

"We--work together, combine our efforts...and...we love our fellow man." Kirk glared at the queen in contempt. "We--have...love."

The queen laughed. "But love will not save you today."

She plunged her hand towards his heart. Nausea and weakness surged through him at the contact, and he knew no more.

Spock considered their situation. He, Doctor McCoy, and Lieutenant Uhura were prisoners of the Wraith; Captain Kirk was no where to be seen. The soldier Wraith had dragged them into their current cell, but they were no longer watching. Finishing his assessment, Spock stood up and made his way to the door. "I believe that, if we can make our way out of the holding area, that I can find our way to the queen's chambers," he said. "That is where the captain was headed. Once we have found him, we can return to the puddlejumper."

"Ah, yes, if we can escape," McCoy said, tapping on the webbed titanium alloy that served as their cell door.

Spock eyed him askance. It was unfortunate, but perhaps inevitable, that the doctor was becoming more like Dr. McKay the longer they stayed on Atlantis. Nevertheless, he was correct; there did not seem to be any simple means of egress from the cell.

Lieutenant Uhura knelt down and drew a knife from a concealed sheath in her boot. "Mr. Spock, if you would be so kind."

Spock raised a single eyebrow and stepped aside, giving Uhura a free view of the cell door's control panel. With a flick of her wrist, her knife went whirling through the air, striking the control panel. It erupted in sparks, and the door to their prison melted away.

"Fascinating," Spock said.

"It's a trick that Dr. McKay taught me," Uhura explained, retrieving her knife and sliding home inside her boot. "But Ronon showed me how to throw the knife."

"Indeed," Spock said. "That was a fortunate trajectory, Lieutenant. I commend you."

"Yes, well done, Lieutenant," Dr. McCoy said. "But there's no time to pat ourselves on the back. We've got to get to the captain."

They rushed through the corridors of the hibernating ship, passing humans caught in the deadly webs. The metallic mental taste of the Wraith queen was strong, and Spock followed it to the heart of the great ship. They burst into the queen's chamber, Lieutenant Uhura with her P-90 blazing. The queen screamed at their entrance, and it seemed that the entire vessel shivered with her rage and pain. Uhura fired until the queen fell, bloody and lifeless, to the decking. Spock could no longer feel her mind in his.

Dr. McCoy rushed to the captain's side, where he lay on the floor, his eyes rolled back in his head and his features limp. There were five bloody tracks on the center of his chest. McCoy checked for his pulse, for a moment that seemed an eternity. Finally, he slumped, looked up at the two of them, and said, "He's dead, Spock."

Spock tensed. There were other Wraith on their way; time had run out. He lifted Jim Kirk's body to his shoulder. "We must return to the puddlejumper," he said. And he carried his captain out of the hive ship, and home to Atlantis.

"I must, of course, return to the mainland," Spock said, as he followed McCoy to the infirmary. "My place must be there, since I have proven myself unable to be a member of a Stargate team. I will inform Dr. Weir of my resignation immediately."

McCoy couldn't help grinning. "Don't look so gloomy, Spock!" The doors hissed open and he waved Spock to precede him. "These things have a way of working out."

"That sentiment seems highly inappropriate, Doctor," Spock said, turning to look over his shoulder. "Our leader--my friend and yours--is dead due to my negligence."

"Actually," Jim said, swinging his legs around on his bed to face the door, "I'd say your attention to your duty was irreproachable. Wouldn't you say, Bones?"

"Oh, indubitably," McCoy said, trying to contain his glee.

For a split second, Spock's face stayed in its customary blank mask. Then, his eyes widening, he bounded forward and grasped Kirk's shoulders. "Jim!"

"Yes," Jim said.

"You're alive!"

Jim nodded with just a hint of smug. He was still a cocky bastard, recently back from the dead or not. "Thanks in no small part to Doctors McCoy and Beckett," he said.

"Aye," Carson said, looking up from Kirk's chart. "Although in the future you might consider that my life is so much easier when all the jumper teams don't go around poking hive ships to see if they'll get mad."

"You haven't convinced Colonel Sheppard's team not to," McCoy said. "The rest of us are just following his example."

Spock gaped helplessly for a long second, and then abruptly cleared his throat and let Jim go. He stepped back and straightened his spine. "This is...unexpected...to say the least," he said.

"Well, Spock, it's like this," McCoy said. "Jim was dead, but it wasn't the Wraith queen that drained him."

"Nope," Jim said. "That was all Bones."

"Well, it was Carson's research that gave me the idea," McCoy said. "A Wraith won't feed if it thinks its prey is dead. So--that shot I gave him simulated death. It only took a few moments' work with the defibrillator to have him back to his usual self."

"Captain," Spock said. He paused, and glanced around at the group of people surrounding Jim's bedside--from Carson, still frowning at test results, to Uhura and McCoy, and even Teyla, the leader of his people. "It is fortunate that you are not dead," he said stiffly. "Our team would be less successful without you. Logically--"

"Logically?" McCoy scoffed, rolling his eyes. The others might be taken in by the most obvious load of bovine scatology he'd ever heard in his life, but he knew better. "You were glad to see him! None of this Athosian Kolinahr stuff for me, Spock. I know you better now."

"Logically," Spock continued, "our further efforts against the Wraith can only be improved by the Captain's continuing survival."

"Oh, yes, now I see," McCoy said. "That's very logical, yes."

"I thought so," Jim said. He sprang down from the bed and clapped Spock on the shoulder. "Logically, it's good to see you, too, Spock. Now, let's go debrief Dr. Weir."

"Logical," McCoy muttered to Carson and Teyla. Teyla raised her eyebrows, and Carson blinked.

"It seemed quite reasonable to me," Teyla said. "Did you not find it so, Dr. McCoy?"

"Oh, sure," McCoy said. "In a pig's eye."

And, so saying, he left Carson to explain Earth proverbs to Teyla, and followed his team to the debriefing.

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December 16, 2005