"SULU!" Kirk cried frenziedly. His ears sought the sound of Spock's voice, knowing it was gone, while his eyes tracked the Valgard's cockeyed progress. The shuttlecraft was not altogether adrift. Someone, either Jaffe or Corey, was periodically hitting weak thrusters in an attempt to keep the craft level and on something close to its original course. "Get a tractor beam on that shuttle!"
"Aye, Captain! I'll try!"
"Don't try, Mister Sulu, just do it!" Kirk ordered. "Get them back in here before their systems fail completely and they're adrift, too."
The helmsman immediately turned away to work frantically at his console.
Kirk sat rigidly at the conn, staring at the static-filled viewscreen, his mind awhirl. He'd had a bad feeling about this station from the moment they had gotten their first glimpse of it. The only occasions in his life when he'd ever really gotten into trouble was when he didn't pay attention to his intuition. Why hadn't he listened to his instincts and gotten the Enterprise the hell away from here, let somebody else investigate things for a change?
He knew the answer to that as surely as he knew anything, and it only made him feel worse. It was one thing to endanger himself and his crew, and quite something else to consign another ship to its fate.
He was abruptly reminded of his remark back in the rec room all those thousands of years ago when Scotty was telling a harmless ghost story. Kirk's words came back to haunt him now. . . . "Whatever their goal, they evidently thought it worth the risk … it's the same risk you make in taking an active part in life … or becoming a Starfleet officer." Each one of the men and women serving aboard the Enterprise had known what they were getting into when they signed on, had known the risks. Each of them had known they might not come back.
But he didn't want it to be because of him!
Some of his inner turmoil and doubt had to do with his injury. The pain didn't help his mood. Loss of his landing party had raised his hackles till he was like a wolf on the defense. Add to that the power failures and a shuttlecraft gone adrift, and it was a wonder he wasn't chewing off his own leg to get out of the trap.
The only good news since the arrival of the space station had been Spock's call, letting him know the landing party was, for the most part, still well (except for Markson, of course …), and Scotty's discovery that the ship's problems were being caused by, as the chief engineer so succinctly put it, "that ugly piece of garbage." At least Kirk wasn't cold at the moment. Frustration pulsed his blood so hard through his veins, he wondered if he'd ever feel cold again.
He caught himself finger-drumming a rapid, monotonous tattoo on the arm of his chair and quelled it, curling his fingers tightly against the palm and clenching them into a white-knuckled fist. Starship captains weren't supposed to have nervous tics. And even if it happened that they developed one, that sort of thing wasn't supposed to be aired where the rest of the crew could see it.
But it sure beat losing it altogether.
"Mr. Sulu?"
The helmsman didn't turn, so intent was he on his controls. "I'm able to get partial power to the tractor beam, Captain, but not enough to pull the shuttle in. I can maintain their distance from the ship for an indefinite period with a pulse beat on the tractor beam." He glanced over his shoulder. "That should save us some power, rather than initiating a steady pull, and it will keep them close by."
Kirk nodded. "Very good, Mr. Sulu. Do so. Uhura, try to get a message through to Corey and Jaffe and let them know what we're doing. I don't want them to think we're going to just leave them out there."
"Aye, sir." She sounded exhausted from relaying the uncountable inquiries, status reports, and all the other messages flooding her board, but bent to the task immediately, her mellow voice not even giving hint of all that went on as it reached across the distance to the shuttlecraft and the security personnel within.
"Captain?"
Kirk turned to Scotty, who now stood beside the conn. "Yes, Mr. Scott. What is it?"
The chief engineer looked troubled, as well he might. He didn't even glance down at the status board in his hand, just held it out to Kirk. "Update on current conditions, sir. I'm afraid it doesn't look very good." He was the most apologetic Kirk had ever seen him, as though this entire thing were his fault.
Would that it were, but Kirk knew exactly at whose feet the blame must be laid. He glanced at the board. Life support was failing on several decks, despite efforts to bring it back on line. On other decks, systems continued to flip on and off like the lights on an old-fashioned Christmas tree. Both cases had prompted the evacuation of personnel to the large areas of the officers' and crew lounges, rec room, mess, and gymnasium. Systems shipwide were steadily and resolutely failing with no way to boost or preserve them. It was only a matter of time before the Enterprise was as dead in the water as the Romulan space station.
The long list made Kirk feel as though someone had punched him under the heart. "I've blown it, haven't I, Scotty?" he asked quietly.
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"Me," Kirk explained. "I missed our chance to escape from—" He waved a hand toward the screen. "Whatever that is over there. My first priority is not to endanger this ship or her crew, but I've done it in spades. The minute I knew there was something wrong, I should have had the ship withdraw—"
"And leave behind the landing party?" Scott was aghast.
"It's not my first choice, Mr. Scott, no. But I have to consider the welfare of the rest of the crew, balancing the lives of six against those of four hundred and ninety-four." Kirk felt like such a traitor saying it, but it was the truth. Spock, Bones, and the others knew the risk when they signed onto a Federation starship. There was never any guarantee you'd be coming home from any particular mission, and none of those aboard the station would want him risking the lives of the rest of the crew just for them. "Maybe we could have beamed the team back aboard from a greater distance, instead of sitting here letting our energy reserves get sucked away. Or we could have sent for help from Starfleet Command. If we'd had another ship here …"
"That other ship would be as disabled as the Enterprise is right now," Scott predicted sternly. "Captain—" He stepped closer, lowering his voice to give them the semblance of privacy on the crowded bridge. "Captain, we lost contact with the landing party first. There was no indication of any other trouble at that time that would have warranted withdrawal of the ship."
"But—"
Scott spoke over his captain's protest, something he had almost never done in all his years serving under James Kirk. "The minor aberrations that were initially reported were so small as to fall under the category of any of the minor routine fluctuations and malfunctions we get aboard the ship from time to time. There was no way to tell it would lead to the Enterprise's losing power. Captain—" The chief engineer laid a gentle hand on Kirk's arm. "Don't blame yourself. There's no way you could have known."
"But, I should have known, Scotty!" Kirk maintained strongly. "The Enterprise is my ship, and I—"
The crackling sound of Christine Chapel's voice came over the intercom. "Sickbay to Captain Kirk."
Kirk's eyes closed almost by themselves. He hurt so badly. Worse, his ship was hurt, was dying around him, inch by inch. If this was one more crisis … "Go ahead, Doctor."
"Captain, I've just taken temperature readings on several crewmen reporting a sensation of cold. In every case, internal temperature has dropped by several degrees."
"Cause?"
"Unknown, Captain."
A chill worse than he'd felt to date, a chill that had nothing to do with the minimalization of life-support systems, coalesced around Kirk's heart like a sheen of ice. In his brief contact with Spock, the Vulcan had said something about Romulans dying of hypothermia in conditions where it couldn't possibly exist, and now the same thing was happening to the crew of the Enterprise.
His sixth sense shrieked, clawing its way up the inside of his skull with taloned feet. This time he would pay attention to it. "Dr. Chapel, I don't have details so you're going to have to trust me on this, but I have every reason to believe that the crew is going to suffer hypothermia."
"Hypothermia? But, Captain, the ship's ambient temperature is—"
Kirk cut her off. "I know all about the ambient temperature, Doctor. Just trust me. There is a very real danger of hypothermia. According to Mr. Spock, several Romulans aboard the space station suffered the same fate despite station temperatures that would indicate otherwise. Take what precautions you can to ensure the safety of the crew."
"Yes, Captain," her crisp tones replied. "Chapel out." She might not completely understand what he was getting at or why, but she'd follow his orders to the letter, of that Kirk was certain. But her efforts would do little good if they couldn't get out of here soon.
"Scotty." Kirk tugged the chief engineer's sleeve.
"We need a plan and we need a plan now, otherwise the landing party and everyone on this ship is going to die. Is there any way at all to gain enough power to distance the ship from that damned station?"
Scott shook his head. "Captain, I've tried everything I can think of and I'm clean out of miracles. Besides, sir, if we left the landing party—" Kirk's eyes meeting his cut the chief engineer off in mid-sentence. The captain had already made it quite clear what he was prepared to do, if need be, to ensure the safety of the greater portion of his crew.
Kirk's mind raced. There had to be something they could do. He had never believed in the no-win scenario, and he wasn't about to start now.
A reverse tractor beam, to push the ship farther away from the station, was out of the question. They were having a hard enough time keeping Corey and Jaffe within reach with just small pulse bursts.
Kirk leaned forward. "Scotty, could we do a fast evacuation of the air in the shuttlebay to propel us away from the station?"
Scott nodded. "In theory, Captain, though I don't think there'd be enough air in it to move us far enough away to make it worth the effort."
"We have to try something, Mr. Scott."
"We can't do it, Captain." Sulu turned and looked back at them sadly. "The shuttlebay doors never reengaged when Valgard took off."
Dammit. Kirk closed his eyes briefly. "What if we divert all remaining power to our shields? Can we raise them strongly enough to protect systems and get them back on-line at least long enough to get us away from here?"
"I'll let you know in a minute, sir." Scott stepped over to his console.
The captain knew he wouldn't like the answer before Scott opened his mouth. The chief engineer's face said it all. "At present capabilities, Captain, our shields would only raise forty-eight percent, if that. That's enough to give us power to coast out of here only if we have a big hill to give us help."
Kirk's eyes sought each face on the bridge. "Does anyone have any suggestions?" They were all silent, staring at him, waiting for him to make the inevitable decision, which he didn't want to make …
… but which he would, as captain. "Scotty—" His voice caught and he cleared his throat. "Do we have enough power to initiate self-destruct?"
The silence on the bridge was deafening. Scott nodded, expression stoic. "Aye, sir, but not for long—less than a half hour."
"Understood, Mr. Scott. Sulu, leave off the pulse bursts to Valgard. On my order, you're to use the same to draw us closer to the space station. We want to make certain we take it with us when we go."
"Aye, aye, sir," the helmsman said numbly.
"Uhura, if you can, let Jaffe and Corey know what's coming. And see if you can raise the landing party one more time. They should know about this as well, so they can … prepare themselves."
Kirk sat straighter in his chair, not wanting to think about what he was about to do, and unable to think of anything else. He touched a button on the chair arm. "Captain's log, supplemental. There seem to be no further alternatives open to us. The Romulan space station continues to leach our energy, putting the entire ship's crew, as well as the landing party, at the mercy of slow death by hypothermia. Every attempt to reverse this process has resulted in failure, or inability to even make the attempt due to power loss. It is only a matter of time before my ship is as dead and adrift as the Romulan station. Once Starfleet is aware that we have lost contact, they will send Federation ships to seek an explanation. We are unable to send a subspace message warning Federation and other ships away from this sector, and both the Kongo and the Lexington will be here shortly. I cannot allow another vessel to suffer the same fate as the Enterprise; therefore, there is only one recourse open to me." He glanced briefly at Scotty, Sulu, and Uhura, and was profoundly touched when each of them nodded accord with his words. Kirk took a deep breath. "We will use our remaining power to get as close to the station as we can in order to destroy it when the ship … explodes." The word tore out of him, leaving him feeling raw and wounded. "Upon my order, Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott will jerry-rig every photon torpedo aboard the Enterprise to ensure their detonation at the time of self-destruct as an aid in destroying the space station. Commendations are in order for the ship's entire complement of crew. Full responsibility for these actions is mine. Kirk out." His finger jabbed the button hard and he stared stonily at the viewscreen.
Maybe he would have to start believing in the no-win scenario after all. Then again, maybe not.
Kirk glanced around the bridge at the solemn faces of his crew. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have twenty minutes before we will be close enough to the station to institute the self-destruct. That gives us twenty minutes to come up with another solution." His fingers curled into a fist and he pounded gently on the arm of his chair. "And I intend to do it."