Chapter 5
by Trish Bennett

Admiral Fitzpatrick was not looking forward to his next transmission to the Enterprise. Primarily because he had nothing encouraging to say.

The Federation Council was at its usual cautious best. He had tried to explain the gravity of the situation, and he believed he had done an adequate job of it. But they had tied his hands, for all intents and purposes, in a situation where he believed timing would be crucial. And the admiral was frustrated to the verge of rage.

The abduction of Starfleet personnel under ordinary circumstances posed a grave threat to Federation security. But a starship captain, with the information that he possessed...the results could be absolutely devastating.

A man of that position was a special breed, trained and conditioned to withstand enemy interrogation to a certain degree. But the Klingons were a ruthless people, brutal beyond human endurance. And with reports of a mind sifter circulating through the cosmos, it did not take a very active imagination to consider the possibilities.

He could see the enormous danger facing the Federation. He could also see the enormous danger facing James Kirk, whom he considered a personal friend. Could he survive a savage Klingon interrogation? Would he be better off if he didn't?

A few short days ago, he had shared a bottle of Saurian brandy with Kirk, assuring him that Starfleet was on top of the situation. But in that brief amount of time, something had gone dreadfully wrong, and there was nothing left to do but see the problem through to its conclusion... whatever that conclusion may be.

There were many things he had told the captain that night, and many things he didn't. But he did make a promise to Kirk, one that he had every intention of keeping. He had to keep the Enterprise out of harm's way.

It would certainly not be an easy task under the present circumstances, but he had to try. It might well be the last thing he could ever do for a friend.

Fitzpatrick sighed heavily as he reached for the communication switch on his desk.

"All right, Angie," he said wearily. "I'm ready for the Enterprise."

The signal from Starfleet came through just as McCoy was preparing to leave the briefing room. Spock allowed him to remain on the condition that he remain silent. Although the doctor agreed, both of them privately doubted it was a promise he would be able to keep.

When the admiral's image filled the small viewscreen, his face appeared frustrated and concerned. He seemed to have aged several years in the few brief hours since his last transmission, and the circles under his eyes betrayed his weariness.

His voice, however, had not lost its authoritative resonance. "Commander Spock, status report."

"The Klingons have entered the neutral zone, Admiral," Spock replied crisply. "Their present heading is a small star system just within our sensor range. I have ordered an analysis of the system. The Enterprise is holding position inside Federation space."

"Have you established contact with the Klingon vessel?"

Spock's voice was solemn. "We were... permitted to witness the murder of one member of our landing party. Another was conspicuously unaccounted for. We assume that he has also been killed. That has been our only communication with the vessel."

Fitzpatrick's eyes closed briefly. "Kirk is still alive, then?"

"Affirmative... although he appeared to be injured."

Fitzpatrick sighed deeply. "Commander Spock, we have been in contact with the Klingon High Council. They deny any knowledge of these events but refuse to render their assistance with the renegade vessel. They say they would consider any violation of the neutral zone to be an act of war."

Spock gazed steadily at the image on the viewscreen before him.

"With all due respect, Admiral, what did you expect them to say?" There was no malice in his tone, no hint of sarcasm. It was merely a question sparked by genuine curiosity.

Fitzpatrick glared at him. "Mr. Spock, Starfleet cannot afford to lose a man like Jim Kirk, nor can we allow terrorist activity against any Federation personnel to go unchallenged. But we can afford to lose the Enterprise even less. The entire fleet has been placed on alert. I have ordered the Yorktown and Excalibur to rendezvous with you and await instructions."

McCoy's face brightened and he clasped his hands together in a silent prayer of thanks. Spock merely raised an eyebrow.

"When do you anticipate their arrival?"

Fitzpatrick's shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but his voice remained crisp. "At maximum warp, approximately three days."

McCoy's face fell. "Three days!" he exclaimed, finally stepping into the admiral's view. His outburst drew a stern gaze from Spock, but he ignored it and faced the screen. "We can't just leave them out there for three days! We have to do something!"

Fitzpatrick appeared only momentarily surprised by the doctor's presence, but he made no mention of it.

"Doctor McCoy," he said gently, reassuringly. "Please believe me when I say that I know how you feel. I consider Jim Kirk to be a very good friend. But you must understand the Federation's position..."

"I don't care about the Federation's position!" he snapped, only vaguely aware of the frantic tone of his voice. "I just watched your friend, chained like an animal, being beaten by those..." He cut himself off and spun to face Spock, pounding his fist on the table in frustration. "Spock, you saw what they did to Ensign Graham! For God's sake, man, tell him!"

Spock's voice was as firm as his gaze. "Please control yourself, Doctor."

It was a quiet, simple statement but enough to penetrate McCoy's blind fury. He glared at Spock briefly, then straightened from the table, smoothed his shirt, and locked his hands behind his back. He was clearly fuming.

"My apologies, Admiral," Spock said at last. "I must admit, however, that I do not believe Captain Kirk has three days. I believe he will be dead in considerably less time."

Fitzpatrick seemed affected by his words, but his position remained unchanged.

"You have your orders, Commander. If the Klingon vessel should attempt to re-enter Federation space, do whatever you must to secure the safety of the captain and the Federation. But under no circumstances are you to take the Enterprise into the neutral zone." He squared his shoulders decisively. "The Klingons say they would consider it an act of war. I personally would consider it an act of mutiny. Do I make myself clear, Commander?"

"Perfectly clear, Admiral," Spock replied without hesitation.

"Very well." Fitzpatrick's tone softened slightly. "Notify me if there is any change. Otherwise, I will contact you before the scheduled rendezvous. Starfleet out."

The viewscreen went dark. McCoy realized only after a moment that his mouth was open.

"Mutiny? Is he serious?"

"I believe he is quite serious, Doctor," Spock replied, rising from his chair for the first time since their arrival. "I must return to the bridge. I assume you wish to accompany me."

He started past McCoy, but stopped when the doctor laid a hand on his arm.

"We can't just leave them out there, Spock."

"I know, Doctor," he replied. "But at the moment, I am at a loss for alternatives."

Kirk could not decide which was worse -- the total lack of feeling in his arms and hands from the loss of circulation or the sharp, burning tingle of its return. He had felt an enormous sense of relief upon being released from the overhead beam, but the relief was short-lived. His shoulders were painfully stiff, and he was still shackled and blindfolded. He had very little hope of escaping his captors at the moment.

He would have to be patient. An opportunity would surely present itself. Kirk could only hope that he would be able to take advantage of it.

The Klingon guards were as silent as ever as they led the humans through the corridor of the battle cruiser. The disrupter planted firmly in Kirk's spine, however, made their intentions uncomfortably clear.

He felt Lieutenant Girard in close procession beside him and suddenly wished he could see her. She must be terrified, he thought. On her first surface mission with the Enterprise, she had already witnessed the brutal murders of two of her colleagues. And he could only imagine what their Klingon captors had in store for them.

"Are you all right?" Kirk asked, hoping the authority he forced into his voice would help to console her.

"I think so," she replied.

Her voice was surprisingly calm, and Kirk felt a sudden rush of pride. After what had already happened and facing an uncertain future, she was holding up remarkably well. A fine addition to the crew of the Enterprise.

He heard a door slide open, and with a few more strides they were forced up a step onto a platform. A transporter platform?

"Wait a minute," Kirk demanded, drawing his arms up instinctively to cradle his tender ribs. "What's going on here? I demand to know..."

A short, sharp Klingon command interrupted him, and Kirk's voice was lost in the hum of the transporter. A moment later, he found himself standing on a rough, craggy surface. The arid stench of the Klingon vessel ws quickly replaced by a damp, musty odor. There was a definite chill in the air, but not even the hint of a breeze.

The Klingons wasted no time moving them out, and it was a long, arduous hike. The surface was damp and slick, which made it nearly impossible to get a sure footing. It was difficult to maintain his balance with his hands bound together, and every twist and turn of Kirk's body sent stabbing pain pummeling through his chest.

He got the distinct impression they were in some sort of cavern, and from the angle of their descent, they seemed to be heading deep below the planet's surface. He made a concerted effort to concentrate on directions... the number of steps they took before turning left or right... anything that may help them find their way back out of this maze tunneled in stone.

He had no way of knowing how much time had elapsed since their abduction or how far from Margala 3 they had been taken. And what of the Enterprise? Spock would certainly be in pursuit. But if the Klingon ship had cloaked... and he could only assume that it had... there would be nothing for him to pursue...

Kirk shook his head quickly, trying to clear his jumbled thoughts. The first order of business, as always, was survival. The second would have to be escape. He could not just sit still and blindly hope for the cavalry to come riding over the hill. As much as he would like to, he had to proceed with the assumption that from this point on, he and Girard were on their own.

By the time they reached their destination, it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to breathe. He took quick, shallow breaths trying to keep the pain at a tolerable level.

One of the Klingons seized the manacles at his wrists and again fastened them securely above his head. Kirk gasped at the sudden movement and struggled fiercely to catch his breath. But even through the fog in his head, he heard a heavy thud, then the unmistakeable crackle and hum of a force field being activated. After a moment, the heavy footsteps diminishing into the distance convinced him that they were alone.

"I was just starting to feel my fingers again," came a voice from beside him.

The remark brought a grim smile to Kirk's lips. "Mine, too." His voice sounded raspy and dry, even to his own ears.

"Captain...what's going to happen to us?"

Kirk breathed as deeply as his injured ribs would allow. "I only wish I knew, Lieutenant."

The grim faces of Spock and McCoy did little to improve the mood of the bridge crew.

"Status of the Klingon vessel, Mr. Chekov," Spock said crisply as he moved to assume the command chair from Sulu.

"We lost them for a few seconds when they entered the star system, Mr. Spock," the ensign replied without looking up. "But we relocated them quickly. Now they're just...sitting there."

"Analysis of the star system?"

Chekov straightened from the scanners now and turned to face him. "There are seven planets in all, sir. Two of those are Class M, but both appear to be uninhabited."

All eyes turned to Spock as he gazed intently into the viewscreen, but he was unaffected by the questioning stares. There was an unbearably long silence before Sulu finally spoke.

"What are we going to do, Mr. Spock?"

"The Yorktown and the Excalibur are scheduled to rendezvous with us in approximately seventy-two hours," he responded, silently noting the entrance of chief engineer Scott to the bridge. "Until then, we are to hold position and await further instructions."

The statement evoked a startled response from the normally complacent Scotsman.

"But Mr. Spock!" he exclaimed, moving to stand with McCoy at the rail of the upper deck. "One Klingon cruiser is certainly no match for the Enterprise. We could..."

"One Klingon cruiser that we are aware of, Mr. Scott," Spock said. "I appreciate your optimism, Engineer, but we have no way of knowing if there are other cloaked vessels out there, just waiting for the Enterprise to violate treaty."

"But what of Captain Kirk?" Scott's face was nearly as red as his uniform.

Spock gazed at him briefly, then once again locked his eyes on the viewscreen.

"I believe the captain will understand the delay." His voice was firm, but he was clearly not pleased with the decision.

"Understand it, maybe," McCoy toned in, unable to suppress his anxiety any longer. "But will he be able to survive it?"