Chapter Text
When they had docked at the starbase, Jim had been thrilled to discover that that they’d had a grav-sphere football field. That had led to a cascade of quick communications with all the eagerness of a young boy ringing up the neighborhood kids’ houses, led simultaneously with professional pre-leave systems checks: Sulu, up for a quick round of soccer? Scotty, I’ll kick your ass. Bones, I know you’re in for a quick game. Chekov! In no time, and only an hour after the engines had been killed, 22 officers of the Enterprise had assembled on the field.
Surrounding them in an isolating bubble was a thick glass pane, far above the field itself. Its purpose was to alter gravity within the field. Jim was absolutely going to be trying out half-gravity baseball at some point, but for now, he’d had an urge for the good, old-fashioned Terran sport of soccer. Half-gravity was slotted for three games from now, at the end of this inter-departmental soccer tournament. Jim expected he’d be lauding his achievements by then.
If one were to get close to the edge of the field, they could look down at the starbase far, far below their sphere. The grav-sphere was anchored to it by a permanent tractor beam, nothing more than a dazzling beam of light that didn’t seem very substantial at all. Above them, Jim could see the synthetic atmosphere given by the starbase. It was emulating a cloudless sunny day, a perfect illumination for the game going on below. The temperature was bracing and dry, and Jim had been near-giddy when he’d changed into his civilian clothes. When was the last time he’d gotten to relax?
The current game was Command-Medical-Engineering (CME) vs Ops-Navigation-Security (ONS). Jim had a large smear of dark-red dirt (synthetic, to be sure, but it felt as real as the old field from his childhood in Iowa where he’d coached little kids playing baseball) across the front of his shirt, but C-M-E was up by two and that was all that mattered.
“I’m too fucking old for this,” Bones grumbled at his side as they jogged into formation. “Why the hell did I agree to this?” Chapel was on Jim’s other side, one smear of grass-and-dirt on her cheek. Jim didn’t think he’d seen her hair down in ages, but it was fastened against the back of her neck in a tight ponytail. The grass was so green here, and smelled, somehow, like it’d just been cut. Here he was, with his favorite people in the world.
“You can always go join the others,” Chapel advised the chief medical officer. She gestured with one direction towards the two senior officers who had decided not to play.
Nyota was sitting on a beach chair, reclined comfortably in her civilian clothing. A large black umbrella shielded her from the sun’s rays, her large sunglasses obscuring most of the upper half of her face. A PADD was in her hands; she languidly ran her finger over it once or twice. Jim didn’t think that she’d looked up at the game more than once or twice. Maybe when the victorious raucous yelling had disturbed her quiet academic endeavors.
Next to her, similarly reclining, was Spock. Spock had declined the use of an umbrella, though he had donned a pair of darkened sunglasses to protect his eyes from the sun. He also had a PADD in his hand. Jim had sort of figured that Spock wasn’t going to play in the game, but he’d been convinced that he wouldn’t when he’d seen his bondmate don black pants, a black tunic, and long black Vulcan robes. At least the robes were unfastened and opened, giving Spock (at least) the illusion of dressing-down. Together with Uhura’s similarly muted clothing, they looked like quite a pair. Occasionally Spock would reach over and press his fingers against the railing of Uhura’s chair, asking some question or another, to which she would respond quietly. Jim had caught Spock looking at him once or twice, though, and didn’t miss the opportunity to blow him a kiss to Spock’s light-hearted irritation.
“Yeah, I’ll pass on that. I think they might try and suck my blood if I wander over,” Bones shot back to his nurse.
“Hey, the only person that Spock’s allowed to suck is –"
The look Bones shot him was so severe and venomous that Jim cut himself off with a bark of a laugh. He caught the ball when it was tossed to him, setting it between him and his chief of security. “You ready, Lieutenant?” Jim teased. “You’re down by two. If you want to throw in the towel now, I won’t judge. There’s something to be said for knowing when you’ve gotten your ass kicked.”
Sulu rolled his eyes at him. Jim had to marvel how good it was to see everyone in civilian gear, exhausted and sweaty but thoroughly enjoying themselves. Nearly everyone looked dirty and sweaty, but there was a glitter to everyone’s eyes. “I’ve taken worse odds. There’s still time to beat you so badly that you’ll have to report me to Starfleet.”
“Big talk, man.” The referee, a monotone hologram, blew his whistle and the play was on. Sulu kicked the ball away from him before he could get it for himself. The ball continued towards their goal, with Chekov closely defending Sulu. Bones stood as goalkeeper, ready to deflect. Jim saw a streak of blond as Chapel went to fight for it.
“Captain!” Scotty barked out. Jim almost cracked his neck to look at him, about midway across the field. “Go towards their goal! I’ve got an idea!”
As almost 15 officers went to crowd around their own goal, Jim figured that it was a better idea than joining the fray. “I trust you, Scotty!” He called back, starting a slow jog towards Rand guarding the O-N-S goal. It was almost deserted, and Jim gave a quick jerk of the head in greeting towards the ops officer. “’Sup, Jan.”
“Jim,” she greeted stiffly, competitive. Jim leaned forward on his knees, watching the ball get passed back and forth between the others. Like he’d been shot from a bullet, Scotty was right in the midst of the crew. What are you planning, Scotty? “How’s the husband?” It was said with all ironic nonchalance - as if they were gathered around the water cooler.
His eyes shot over to said husband, clad entirely in black and reading very intently. Jim wouldn’t have been surprised if he was getting ahead on laboratory reports. On shore leave. Jesus.
“Going through a goth phase,” Jim remarked.
There was no way that Spock could have heard him, but his eyes lifted nonetheless. He lowered his sunglasses with one finger to watch him over the bridge of his nose. Jim waved. “Actually, I think we’re pulling off a pretty cool bad boy/golden boy dynamic.”
That made Janice laugh, pressing her hands to her hips. “Commander Spock, a bad boy. Don’t think I could imagine it. I’ll bet you a drink that he’s reading a science department report right now.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I know when not to take a doomed bet, Jan.”
“Captain!” Scotty howled from the other side of the field. The noise was loud enough to startle Spock and Uhura from their PADDs, now watching the game proceed. “Get your head ready!”
With an impressive amount of strength, Scotty’s foot made contact with the ball. It sailed over the field, directly to Jim. Jim couldn’t calculate the odds, but he figured, at a rough estimate, he had about one-in-a-million shot of making this move work. Could he impact the ball with his body, let it fall to the ground, and then take advantage of a relatively deserted field to make a goal?
Yes.
But he wasn’t going to do that, and Jim was positive Scotty knew that.
Jim leapt forward and, with less planning than he probably should have, headbutted it hard. At first, Jim didn’t even see where it had ended. He had fallen to the ground and the air had been knocked out of him. Jim blinked and saw stars, pressing one hand to his head. Ow.
He was brought out of his daze when he heard the thrilled cheers of his team behind him.
When he managed to look up again, he saw a frustrated Rand standing in front of the goal. Behind her was the football. It was nestled against the net comfortably.
How many one-in-a-million shots have I made in my life?
Suddenly, he was being grabbed by ten pairs of hands, Bones included. Jim turned around to realize that he was being lifted up in the air. He started to laugh as he was raised to the sky. “Captain, Captain, he’s our man,” Scotty belted out as the rest of the crew continued cheering him on.
Jim’s heart swelled in his chest. Ten pairs of hands were lifting him up, cheering his name. Across the field, he saw Chekov bitterly kick at the grass. Sulu put a hand against his shoulder in comfort.
The world shifted again as he was lowered to the ground. Chapel put a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady as Jim got his bearings, his head still a light ache. It would dissipate soon. “Where would I be without my team?” Jim relayed diplomatically. He slapped one hand on Scotty’s back. “That was a magnificent play, Engineer Scott. Couldn’t have done it with you.” The Scotsman beamed at him, genuine admiration in his eyes.
Before he could continue, he saw his team start to part. Sulu walked through them, and he heard the celebrations quiet all around him. Jim’s smile turned sympathetic, and he opened his mouth to assuage the wound.
Sulu thrust out a hand to shake. “Three up. I think that’s enough time to call a winner, and I can’t imagine a better play to end it on. That was one hell of a play, Captain.”
“And one hell of a competition,” Jim agreed as he shook Sulu’s hand. “Next round, let’s have the security officers switch with the medical officers. See how that shakes up.”
“Glad to know I’ve got a legitimate excuse to hurt you, Jim.” Bones was at his side, arms crossed over his shoulders. “Try not to bust that head of yours in the next play. Let me take a look at that. Jesus, you’re not eighteen anymore.” Suddenly, there were fingers tenderly probing at his skull, and Jim let out a small protest. “Just a bruise. Good. Your few remaining brain cells are clinging to life.”
“Hey, I took enough hits to the head when I was a kid. It’s basically cast iron up there,” Jim joked, rapping his fingers along his temple. The crew let out a jovial laugh, but Jim noticed that Bones, the only one in the circle who knew about his past life, only sent him a stern look. It’s a coping mechanism, Bones, liven up a little. “Alright. Everyone take a fifteen minute break and then we’ll start again.”
As the crowd of crewmembers dispersed, Jim turned back to stare at the two detached parties. His heart always warmed to see his bondmate, even moreso when he seemed relaxed. If it weren’t for the PADD placed in front of his face, Spock could have been sleeping.
The same PADD was placed down when Jim approached him. “Vulcan hospitality, babe – it means that this seat’s mine,” he greeted warmly as he slid onto the beach chair. It wasn’t large enough to comfortably support two men’s bodies, so he was half on Spock’s lap, half crammed in against the armrest of the chair. “Hey, Uhura.” Uhura waved a few fingers at him in greeting.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” She kept her hand raised in the air, displaying three fingers. Spock’s hand slunk around his waist silently.
Jim feigned thought. “Uh, I think I need the scientific advice of my first officer. It’s the concussion, y’know.”
A cold hand had suddenly found its way underneath his shirt, brushing against the skin of his side. Nevertheless, Jim yelped in surprise. Spock’s hand was cold. “He is being deceptive, Nyota. I sense no brain injury or pain from him.”
“Okay, I see how it is. What happened to being my partner in crime for the rest of my life, huh?” Jim flirted. He wrapped one arm around Spock’s neck to get close to him as he settled their foreheads together. Their bond fluttered at the touch – it was either that, or his own heart, or both.
So much of their lives were spent being leaders (and, even if both he and Spock cringed at the term, heroes). So much of their lives were spent making impossible decisions, sacrificing lives as if they’d been given the power. So much of their lives were spent trying to keep everyone safe. So much of their lives were spent being, in a word, mature. Jim was almost tearfully overjoyed to take advantage of a moment where he could be juvenile, light-hearted, stupidly and dumbly happy with a man he loved more than anything.
With one of the parties entirely Human and the other party half-Human, Jim knew that their bond wasn’t as telepathically strong as some Vulcan-Vulcan pairs. Spock had told him stories of Vulcan bondmates being able to read one another’s thoughts, their minds so closely interlinked that it was difficult to tell where one began and where one ended. Privately, Jim knew that it bothered Spock - he just didn’t have the telepathic ability to create a bond of that caliber.
They could feel one another’s emotions from a distance (strong ones, anyway), but Jim had never been able to get any sense of Spock’s thoughts, nor Spock of his. Touch made it easier to determine his more subtle feelings, while distance made it more difficult to determine even very strong feelings. The exact distance hadn’t been measured yet, but Spock had confessed that he’d once been able to feel Jim’s pain when he’d broken his leg on an away mission. It was a rough estimate.
Regardless, Jim couldn’t be more thrilled with the bond, as it stood. He wouldn’t want Spock to be inflicted with whatever ran through his mind on a daily basis. Especially now, feeling Spock’s own youthful happiness and playfulness reflected at him – Jim was content.
“Was that part of our vows?” Spock asked facetiously, meeting Jim’s bright eyes with his dark ones. “How odd. I don’t recall.”
His husband was relaxed, comfortable, and ever so slightly aroused by his bondmate partially sitting on his lap. “It was in with the fluff about sickness and health. Were you watching me out there, Spock?”
“I was. I also looked up the official regulations of the sport, to determine if what you did with your head is a legal move.”
“And?”
“Technically so, yes. It’s rather telling, that humanity considers their head to be another limb.” Spock’s arm loosened around his waist, wrinkling nose. His eyes flicked downward, and Jim sensed mild displeasure radiating from him. Jim followed his eyes. He’d just transferred some of the mahogany-colored dirt to Spock’s black robes. “You’re dirty.”
“That’s what happens when you have a little fun, Spock. Come on, join me next game. None of the science officers wanted to play. I’ll even let you be on my team. Or, if you really want to tackle me like Bones does, you can play opposite.”
“I am contenting myself in this chair, thank you. I will not be partaking.”
Jim let out an aggrieved sigh, raising his hand to delicately brush his fingers across Spock’s hair. “Come on. What about having some fun?”
“I will remain here. I have no need for contact sports as you do.”
“You know, I don’t think you’ve ever just had fun in your life,” Jim lamented in an overly dramatic fashion. His muscles released, causing him to lean against Spock’s chest entirely. Spock didn’t seem to mind, even as more of the dirt transferred. “Pretty sure you just read for eighteen years, joined Starfleet, then you met me and that was the first fun thing you’ve ever done.”
Amusement snaked lazily through Spock. His brown eyes shined at him with undisguised affection. “That is an accurate description of events, ashayam.”
Man, was he a sucker for being ashayammed. It made his heart flutter. Jim relented in his prodding. They had leave here for another two weeks. Jim had enough time to bring Spock out and have fun. Already, he’d made plans for him and Spock. Hell, he was even planning to sit through an orchestra with the guy. More than marrying him, more than bonding with him, Jim was certain that was the surest sign of devotion. What was more, he was even excited for it. Spock was his best friend, first and foremost.
Spock’s fingers were resting lovingly on his back, looking like his heart was sputtering as well. Love seeped through the bond, as clear as water, and Jim returned the same. It’d been so long since they’d just gotten a break, hadn’t it? They’d had so many difficult missions recently.
“Okay, okay,” Jim murmured. “How about a kiss for good luck? I want to keep my streak going.”
Spock removed his hand from Jim’s side and raised two fingers from it, his index and muddle. Jim’s hand was already up, having anticipated the action. If they were in their quarters together, maybe Spock would be willing to fully embrace him. There were about two dozen crew members present, though, and there were limits to that sort of affection. Jim was content with this.
Their fingerpads pressed together, and Jim closed his eyes to relax. He was willing to spend his entire fifteen minute break cuddling with his bondmate on this chair. Spock kept his fingers against his. Jim could feel his heart beat strong in his side.
Life on the ship was stressful. There were good days, though, days where Jim was confident that even a teddy bear would be able to captain the Enterprise. Then there were days that Jim felt like an utter failure, like he ought to be demoted to Ensign and work his way back up from the bottom again. Spock was a gift on those days. Spock knew him, inside and out, his deepest thoughts and his worst fears, and Spock always got him out of the cold.
This, though, wasn’t going to be stressful. Jim looked forward to being able to act like a civilian with the love of his life. Two weeks, and then back to the job he loved more than anything in the world.
“I love you,” Jim sighed. Who would’ve thought that he’d ever be one to admit that? The flighty, twitchy teenager from Riverside, Iowa could never have imagined this life for himself. In a way, he was almost glad he hadn’t. This was a better outcome than he ever could have imagined.
Spock separated their fingers and went back to holding him by his waist again. “I love you,” he informed him, a voice so soft that Jim didn’t think even Uhura could hear it next to them, “With all my heart and soul.”
Someone cleared his throat from behind them. As if a button were pressed, Spock took his hand back and Jim winced. “Engineer Scott,” Spock greeted professionally.
“Scotty, kind of busy here,” Jim remarked, turning around so that he could rest his back against the chair. Spock pushed himself up from the chair to allow Jim to sit properly.
Scott’s hands were in his pockets, somewhat abashed. “Sorry to break up you two lovebirds, but there’s a bit of an incident with the lovely lady.”
Just like that, the romantic atmosphere was shattered. Jim stood from the chair and walked over, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the matter with the Enterprise?”
“Nothing! Well, nothing yet. They’re just ordering all ships to be moved, on account of an astral storm about to start brewing. They’ve got a crew up there willing to do it for us, but they need your official go-ahead. They’ve got a lunar colony a little whiles away, maybe an hour, where they’ll keep her.”
Maybe Jim had been a little overzealous with the idea that shore leave had already started. He sighed and lowered his head in defeat. “Okay. I’ll go take a shuttle up and make the arrangements.” Over his shoulder, he offered a small smile to much. “You want to sub in for me on the field, Commander?”
In a moment, Spock was standing himself next to Jim’s side. “Captain, I request that I return to the Enterprise with you. If there is risk of astral storms occurring in the area, I would prefer to collect several botanical samples and keep them on the starbase with us. Any interfering electromagnetic radiation will be catastrophic for their growth.”
That made it a little better. Any time spent with Spock was always a bonus. Scotty dipped his head in understanding. “Right. You two will want to be heading off now, then, they think the storm’ll be here in naught but an hour.”
Nothing needed to be said. Jim shared a look with Spock and they departed the grav-sphere field, with a promise that whoever won the next game for the Command team would definitely be getting a drink from him at some point. As they stepped into the small shuttle-bay in the grav-sphere, it gave Jim a very good look at the rest of the starbase.
Jim had chosen it specifically because of its wide appeal. They could go watch a few sports games if they wanted. They could go wander in the park. There was morning and evening meditation. There were manmade oceans and rivers to swim in. Even a small mountain range if they had an urge to go hiking. That was to say nothing of the new holodecks they’d just implemented. He hadn’t ever been in one before, but had read about their potential since he was a kid.
Their shared quarters also had quite the draw. He’d been in them only briefly to place his things down, but there was a balcony that overlooked the landscape. They could see the sunset from there. Even if it wasn’t technically from a real sun, Jim was nevertheless compelled by it. A large bath, with actual water, was definitely in his future. Maybe not Spock’s, precisely, who had turned up his nose at the very thought.
Most importantly, it was going to be two uninterrupted weeks with his husband. No nights where he had to go asleep alone because Spock had to work overnight, no mornings where he woke up to an empty bed because of an emergency in the science laboratories. No moments where he worried about Spock’s safety. No stress-induced retorts on the bridge. No moments where he had to treat Spock as if he wasn’t the most important man on the ship, in the galaxy, in his heart. They could be normal.
Spock needed it as much as he did. He watched Spock politely request a shuttle from the attendant from a distance. Even moreso than Jim himself, it was easy for Spock to get wrapped up in work, to not think of anything but work. Sometimes having a non-work conversation with Spock was impossible. He still didn’t know everything about the man, his inner thoughts or his past, but Spock was far from a stranger. As unusual as it sounded, Jim was grateful for the opportunity to get away from work and know him more. Pulling out personal history from his husband was like pulling teeth.
“You wanna navigate, Spock?” Jim asked as they climbed into the two-man shuttle. Comfortable, not meant for long distance travel, but it would get them to the Enterprise, docked in orbit. “I don’t have a preference.”
“You prefer to pilot, I know,” Spock responded in amusement. And Jim did. He liked driving, whether it was cars or entire starships. Spock sat in the navigational chair for a moment, making a few quick motions on the screen. “But it will not be necessary. The autopilot will be able to navigate to the ship just as well. It’s only a short distance.”
“Yeah. I guess there’s nothing we have to be on the lookout for. It’s just like a ski lift. Straight shot up to the Enterprise.”
“If necessary, you can make the navigational adjustments. It will not be a very long trip.” Spock stood up from the navigational controls. Jim nodded, uttered a word of thanks, and turned around to inspect the shuttle again. He kept an eye on a wall panel at the various dials and panels. For standard starbase fare, it was a nice shuttle. Jim would have to keep that in mind when –
Arms around his waist, strong and decidedly Vulcan. Spock squeezed him against the front of his chest. “You performed very well in the match, ashayam,” he cooed, breath tickling against Jim’s neck. His lips must have been just an inch or two away. “I was watching you.”
“Oh?” Jim turned around in Spock’s arms. His hands slid under Spock’s robes and pressed flat against his tunic. “Were you watching me or watching me play? Because, and I know how Vulcans go wild for technicalities, that’s a very important technical difference.” The arousal he’d previously sensed hadn’t been much more than a mental tickle before, but now held the subtlety of a freight train, compounded by Spock’s dilated pupils.
Spock kissed him hungrily, one arm raising from Jim’s middle to encircle his neck. Jim didn’t hesitate to return. His hand slid underneath Spock’s tunic, pushing it up as he stroked along Spock’s side. They broke for air infrequently and briefly before swooping back in again.
It was always hard to tell what Spock was thinking. Although sensing his feelings every now and then was helpful, sometimes Spock’s mind felt like an indecipherable enigma. Like making out in a shuttle. If Jim had known this was an option for the two of them, he would’ve tried this years ago.
Spock uncurled his arm around Jim’s waist. He took – grabbed, really – one of Jim’s hands at his side and held it high above their heads. The friction of their hands rubbing against one another caused Spock to utter a whine, deep in his throat, a noise that only became more pitiful when Jim squeezed his hand tight.
There was something to be said for a species that had could get such stimulation from their hands.
Whether innocent or payback, Spock broke from Jim’s lips to start attacking his neck. “And who – who said Vulcans were buttoned-up – “ Jim got out, unable to miss a single verbal opportunity to tease his bondmate. Spock grew more fervent, tongue darting out to lick against Jim’s skin. The action obliterated any opportunity for Jim to have coherent speech, and finished the statement by moaning Spock’s name.
Ten minutes. Trip should take about ten minutes to the Enterprise. We could make it work.
Surprisingly, fucking in a shuttle would be a first for him. Jim ran his hand over Spock’s front, sliding down until it reached his waistband. Before he could get a good grip on it, Spock bucked his pelvis into Jim’s hand. Man, there’s nothing like an eager Vulcan. Content to bask in the moment, Jim rested his hand on Spock’s groin and tilted his head back, feeling starbursts of pleasure erupt all over his neck.
“There’s –” Spock’s voice was rough and low as he spared Jim’s neck, causing a shiver to rattle down Jim’s spine. He cleared his throat. “There’s a small bed. We can – “
“Frankly, Mr. Spock,” Jim teased, “Unprofessional. Bordering on insubordination. Aren’t you supposed to be my navigator?”
At that, Spock did look towards the navigational controls, at the main viewscreen. Jim did the same. He would remember that look, momentary and oversexed as it was, for a long while in the future. There was nothing on the radar ahead of them. Nothing. The main viewscreen showed only inky black space, with the Enterprise and her moorings visible up ahead. They saw nothing. There was nothing.
“It appears my duties are done,” Spock admitted in an almost innocent tone of voice. Jim looked towards him again, and realized Spock was sporting a half-smirk in his direction, eyes devious. “Most of them.”
Spock swooped forward again, capturing his mouth. He dropped Jim’s hand and allowed it to fall. It was useless, regardless – that long being held over his head, Jim had entirely lost feeling in it. Spock took advantage of his recently freed hand to reach for Jim’s waistband. With surprising deftness, he managed to loosen the button and pull down the zipper, while Jim had half-removed Spock’s robes. Maybe it’s more like five minutes, but I’m sure we’ll be fine –
Something struck the shuttle, careening hard against the top. The pair broke away to look at the ceiling of it. It was dented. A little more velocity and the projectile would have broken clean through.
There was still nothing on the radar, and the Enterprise was still in focus. As they watched, however, he saw their trajectory start to … move. The nose of the shuttle, as if it were being nudged, started to veer to the left. More projectiles started to hit the shuttle, invisible both on the radar and the viewscreen, hitting them on all sides like hail. All around them, there was the sound of creaking metal as the shuttle’s integrity threatened to fail.
Alertness washed over them both.
Spock hopped into action first, going to the navigational console. Jim took the seat next to him. “Shields have failed entirely,” he reported, getting readouts from all systems. “Life support – life support is damaged, Spock, we’re only getting five minutes more of oxygen. What the hell is this?”
The shuttle’s course started to alter further. Rather than a straight line, it was starting to arc, as if it were attempting to u-turn back to the starbase. “High levels of astral radiation, Captain. The frequency is too high to be read on our sensors.”
“What are the projectiles?”
“Source unknown. The scanner databases are unable to determine their exact composition, but that may be due to their excessive speed. They are moving very quickly, Captain.” Their eyes were both drawn to the main viewscreen as a projectile apparently hit it, causing a small, spider-web crack to form in the corner. It was growing. More dents were forming. The shuttle took such a severe turn, as if moved by some ghostly force, that it began to roll onto its side. Jim braced himself against the side of the shuttle as he reached for the radio.
“Starbase 39, this is shuttle 873B2. Repeat, this is shuttle 873B2. We’re being damaged by a non-physical entity of unknown origin, and the shuttle is beginning to break apart, I repeat, the shuttle is beginning to break apart. Two souls on board - Requesting immediate assistance. I repeat, requesting immediate assistance.”
There was a haunting pause, and then the radio picked up again. “Shuttle 873B2, this is Starbase 39. We’re reading you loud and clear. The storm is broaching a lot more quickly than we thought. We’re sending one of the shuttles out from your Enterprise to get you. ETA 10 minutes.”
“I don’t think we’re going to have ten minutes. Start up the tractor beam on the Enterprise. We should be in range.”
“Understood, sir. Operating.” The radio shut out. Thirty seconds passed before the shuttle became immersed in hum and glow of the tractor beam. Slowly, the shuttle turned back to its proper direction as it began to get towed towards the Enterprise shuttle bay. Jim let out a breath of relief and looked over at Spock.
“Any idea what that was?”
“No, Captain. Still investigating via the sensor readings. They are not …” Spock hesitated, trailing off. That wasn’t like him. “They are not unlike the temporal anomalies we have investigated in the past.”
Oh. “Do you think someone might be trying to get through again? Maybe we’re in their parking spot, that’s all.”
“Perhaps.” Spock still seemed troubled. Jim had opened his mouth to question again, before the radio lit up in activity.
“We’re bringing you in, sir. I’m sorry to say this, but you’ll have to hitch a ride on the Enterprise for a little while until this storm passes. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Just not safe to get you back – kzzt!” The radio became garbled, and when the operator’s voice started up again, it was considerably … fuzzier than normal. There was some sort of noise in the background, something that was much more melodic than simple radio static. “ – and we’d just be risking your safety. We’ve had these pop up on more than one occasion.” The noise started to grow louder. No, it was definitely a song. More to the point … he knew that song. Jim heard a brass tuba sound loudly, the rattle of a snare drum.
“We’ll send word to your crew here that you’re safe-and-sound. The storm will be visible from the starbase surface, and it looks a lot nastier than it is. Don’t want them worrying about you.” Jim had to deduce the last few words from context clues, because the song had now grown louder than the operator’s voice. Now Jim was positive where he’d heard it before. The din of the voices rose over the instruments in the same familiar chant.
“Spock,” Jim asked quizzically, “Why on Earth is the radio playing Riverside High’s fight song?”
Spock was perplexed beside him, but at the question, he turned to look at Jim with concern in his eyes. “That is not what I am hearing.”
“What?” Jim shook his head as the noise grew louder, becoming even louder than their simple conversation. He automatically reached for the radio to turn it off, but before he could, the entire shuttle started to rattle. How could Spock not be hearing this? He couldn’t get the fucking song out of his head.
It was like a child had grasped the shuttle in their hand and started to shake it violently. Jim reached for both his armrests. He opened his mouth to make a noise, but found that his teeth were clattering together too much to even make a sound. “Spo –” He tried to get out, but bit his tongue so badly that he clamped his mouth shut in silence.
Spock was being similarly shaken next to him. Jim recognized the look in his eyes. How can I best protect Jim in this situation? The look said, and Jim shook his head severely. No, they were going to be fine, they were still being towed by the tractor beam, and they could see her, see the Enterprise, her shuttle bay doors were open –
While the former projectiles had been approximately the size of a baseball in diameter, this one was significantly … larger. With a sickening crunch, the roof of the shuttle bay collapsed inward. It was as if the shuttle had been punched downward, escaping the tractor beam entirely. Spock indicated the screen in front of them with one shaking finger. Good, because Jim’s attention was thoroughly elsewhere.
Life support failed. They weren’t getting oxygen pumped through the vents any longer. Jim looked up to Spock – he would survive longer than he would, but what was there to be done?
The music still played all-the-while, now loud enough to beat against Jim’s eardrums. Jim tasted blood in his mouth. A trumpet sounded loudly in his ear. Not the song he wanted to die to. God, no. The smaller projectiles started up again, a thick thud-thud-thud against all sides, and the crack in the main viewscreen grew larger, larger, spreading across the entire surface.
Jim had squeezed his eyes shut tight. He wasn’t scared for what was ahead, but he just needed to get his thoughts in order. It was so loud; he couldn’t think; he just wanted to be able to think.
There was one sensation that broke through the noise, the shaking. Jim was even aware of the shuttle starting to spiral downwards, like a fall leaf. As he tried to weigh their options, Jim was aware of his husband taking his hand.
Spock was terrified.
Jim opened his eyes to look at him, and saw that Spock’s eyes reflected that emotion as well, stronger than anything else he was putting out. Spock did not know what to do and he was scared and neither of them could breathe.
I’ll hold your hand until the end, Jim promised him, even if he knew Spock couldn’t hear it. He continued holding Spock’s hand. What a way to go – who wants to die listening to their high school fight song? And still it played. Jim could almost imagine the marching band, loud and brassy. His mind grew foggy as he started to run out of air. There were too many sensations going on: the noise of the radio, the shaking of the shuttle, the projectiles slamming into them, and the terror radiating from his bondmate’s hand.
Without thinking of it, Jim took his hand back to eliminate at least one of those sensations.
A splintering noise in front of him made his eyes open again, and Jim saw that the main viewscreen had split entirely. A beautiful spider web was in front of him, intricate and haunting, with only small fragments of endless space between the threads. That’s not good, Jim thought dimly, not good at all.
It grew even worse when the already-diminished strength of the viewscreen failed entirely. The main viewscreen shattered, sending an avalanche of glass fragments raining on their faces and exposing them to stark space.
Death from space exposure, without a suit, would take place in less than a minute – whether from cosmic radiation, or temperature fluctuations, or bodily fluids boiling, or even traditional lack of oxygen.
Within fifteen seconds of being exposed to the vacuum of space, however, both Spock and Jim disappeared entirely from that precise time and particular position. Within thirty seconds of being exposed to the vacuum of space, the unseen forces crushed what was left of the shuttle into a small, unrecognizable lump of gray metal. It continued spiraling out of space, well out of reach of the tractor beam to parts unknown.
When the operators in the Enterprise shuttle bay retrieved what was left, they were flabbergasted to discover that the tractor beam had brought up one object only.
A standard Terran baseball.