E. Adam Thomas (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} eathomas) wrote,@ 2005-08-09 17:49:00 |
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Fanfic: Six Million Dollar Man/Star Trek: TOS - Chapter 2
Here's the next part of the story...
Chapter Two: Spacewalk
The dull thrum of the antiquated ventilation system was threatening to drive him mad. Surely it had been several hours since he’d been brought into the dark room to sleep off the effects of his torture. They would be back for him soon, now, and if they determined that he was of no use to them, he would be killed.
James Kirk mulled over the options… as Spock would say, they looked most unpromising. All they asked were questions about his identity, and his mission here. His answers must have seemed quite puzzling. He was having trouble now remembering just what it was that brought him here in the first place… Ah, yes…
Stardate 4950.3
The Enterprise had been ordered to complete tests on their new, high-warp capable shuttlecraft, Copernicus. Actually, it was the same Copernicus shuttlecraft that had serviced the Enterprise for the past 4 years. Starfleet Research had spent months redesigning the warp drive systems. Normally, Warp-driven shuttlecrafts were only capable of Warp 2, and that was only in emergencies. Now, it was possible to have a shuttle craft that was almost as fast as a Starship. This could have a great tactical advantage, especially if such a shuttle could also be equipped with weapons systems.
Kirk remembered with a grin Scotty’s mixed emotions at the thought that a shuttlecraft could conceivably out-maneuver a Starship. It took a moment for him to remember that Klingon and Romulan warships were also Starships, for all intents and purposes.
Unfortunately, the third test of the Copernicus’ new drive system ended with an engine imbalance, hurling the ship back in time, much the way a similar imbalance, coupled with an attempt to escape the gravity well of a black star, threw the Enterprise back in time to the late 1960’s a few years before.
This time, Spock had been able to triangulate the estimated time the Copernicus would have been flung to, somewhere in the middle of 1978. Starfleet, apparently aware of the possibility of this type of problem, decided these tests would be conducted in Earth’s system. It was a double edged sword, of course. On the one hand, the shuttle’s crew, Roberts and Mahoney, were both human and could blend in with the indigenous population if they had to. On the other hand, they had technology that was well over 2 centuries ahead of it’s time scattered across the plains of a small Soviet protectorate.
When the Enterprise located the vessel, and its surviving crew, Kirk, Austin and Lt. Geoffrey Carstairs had beamed down to recover some of the more critical parts of the shuttle’s fuselage and control mechanisms. Kirk had been unlucky enough to be spotted by a Soviet patrol and taken into custody… and the rest, as they say, was just one joyous thrill ride after another.
The Soviet officer known as Yuri seemed to delight in torturing Kirk, using knives, blunt objects, and his bare hands, to inflict grievous bodily harm on the usually robust captain. Yuri had also used various truth serums and psychoactive drugs to get Kirk to tell him everything he could about something called “Project Dionysus,” and some group called the OSI. Kirk believed it was about the 200th time he had stated, in all honesty that he had no idea what the OSI was that Yuri lost patience with him and knocked him unconscious the first time.
As Captain James Tiberius Kirk lay on a lumpy cot somewhere in Western Russia in the late 20th Century, mulling over these recent events in his mind, the pain was giving way to one, rather uncomfortably vengeful thought…
That General Yuri Sonofabitch better pray to every God he has ever heard of that I don’t escape from this room… I’ve learned more about dispensing torture from the Klingons than you could ever dream of.
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Steve’s mouth fell agape as the two forms glimmering in front of him coalesced into corporeal shape. The two figures stood before him, apparently human. One was about his size, yet slightly thinner, and bore a striking resemblance to… himself! The other, taller figure was gaunt and had stern, chiseled features, with rather odd looking eyebrows and… Pointed Ears? They wore basically identical outfits, the main difference being the color of their shirts. The taller man wore a blue shirt with two gold braids at the end of each sleeve. The other wore a red shirt with a single solid braid. Both men had some kind of chevron, gold with a black outline, adorning the left side above their breast.
“I don’t suppose you guys are here to deliver a pizza,” was Steve’s attempt at a friendly wisecrack. The younger, red-shirted man smiled a bit, but the taller man remained stone-faced. After a beat, Steve said, “I guess that would be a no. You speak English.”
The taller man spoke with great authority and dispassion. “That is correct. I am Commander Spock, first officer aboard the United Earth Starship Enterprise. This is our security chief.”
The younger man in red cautiously approached Steve, hand extended in a friendly gesture. “My name is Jimmy… Jimmy Austin.”
“What the…” Steve couldn’t even remember the correct profanity to complete the sentence, as awestricken as he was. “Earth starship? Austin? What the Hell is this all about?” He turned his gaze to Spock. “And, no offence, but, what the Devil are you?”
“I am… not human… at least, not completely.”
“Holy crap!” Steve muttered as he absently took the younger Austin’s hand.
“Colonel,” Jimmy began, “I know this is quite a shock, and we really don’t have much time. We need your help.”
“I… I don’t know… I mean…”
“Colonel Austin,” Spock began, “We would not have risked such a problematic venture were it not a matter of the utmost urgency!”
“’Utmost urgency,’” Steve mimicked. “You and Oscar would get along famously.” Steve’s wry grin amused the young lieutenant, but Spock’s demeanor remained stoic. “You don’t laugh much, do you?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “No, Colonel. I do not.”
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Jaime stepped into Oscar’s office for a quick visit before catching the flight back to Ojai, and was greeted by nothing less than pandemonium. Three aides were milling about the office of the OSI director, looking over various readouts and photographs, and Oscar was pacing impatiently behind the desk gripping the receiver of the “Red” phone tightly in his right hand. He was obviously highly stressed.
“Yes, this is Oscar Goldman. Get me NORAD command, right away. – Yes, Colonel Richardson? This is Goldman, OSI… What’s the situation?” He noticed Jaime and motioned for her to sit down. She began to protest, but Oscar insisted, saying, “I need to talk to you, Jaime…”
Jaime sat in the large easy chair to the right of Oscar’s desk, as the aides gave him their reports and were assigned tasks. As this occurred, Oscar also managed to get a tactical report from the base commander at NORAD, and he ordered to have SAC go to standby mode, making sure they would not take any further actions without orders from him.
Finally, when the office was empty, save for Jaime and Oscar, he sat heavily in his chair and buried his face in his hands for a moment. After waiting a few discreet seconds, Jaime looked at her friend with compassion. “What was that all about, Oscar?”
“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you, but we’re on the verge of a huge international incident.” Oscar rubbed his eyes, burning with fatigue. “This morning, as you know, we received an unusual image from one of NASA’s orbital observatories, with what appears to have been a spaceship in high orbit over Earth.
“Now, apparently, the Soviets are on maximum alert over some object they say crashed in the wilderness just outside Irkutsk. One of our spy satellites got a picture of it.” Oscar handed the image over to Jaime. “Now, they’re accusing us of removing it… somehow… without being detected, within 19 hours after they say it crashed.”
Shock crossed Jaime’s face. “Oh my God, Oscar, look at this!” As Oscar came around the desk, Jaime used a red pen to circle a section of the photograph. It was an aerial view of a crash site, depicting a vessel that looked more like a small utility van than an aircraft. The object she had circled was a cylindrical object with a spheroid object at one end. She pointed to it, saying, “I just came from Steve’s apartment. He was sketching that… whatchamacallit that the space telescope got a shot of. This cylindrical object looks just like two of the projections on the space object, what ever it is.”
“Now, wait a minute, Jaime. Are you telling me that this crashed vehicle is an alien spaceship?” Oscar’s disbelief was almost palpable. “Is that possible?”
“Oscar, you know that the people who built Bigfoot were aliens. Why is this any less possible? It obviously isn’t a Russian ship.” Jaime looked Oscar in the eye, a look that basically indicated that there was no other logical explanation.
Oscar’s look was a bit more pained. “My God… what have I done?”
Jaime gave a concerned look. “What is it?”
“I just ordered NORAD to have one of our orbital nuclear platforms to adjust its target coordinates. They’re set to fire in 2 hours if we are not contacted with confirmation that it’s non-belligerent.”
Jaime looked at Oscar, aghast. “Well, you had better recall the order.”
Oscar looked down. “I can’t. Now that the countdown has started, it can only be countermanded by Presidential order.”
“Well, didn’t you even try to contact them? Let them know you were aware of their presence?” Jaime fumed. “They may be a peaceful society, but if you destroy one of their ships, they could treat it as an act of war!”
Oscar found his place sullenly behind his desk again. Soberly, he breathed deeply, then said, “It’s out of our hands now, Jaime.”
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The deflector indicator at the center of the helm/navigation panel lit up, flashing rapidly. Sulu checked the readings on his panel, and turned to Mr. Scott, presently seated in the captain’s chair. “Deflectors just kicked on, Mr. Scott. Apparently, one of the orbiting nuclear platforms is adjusting its perigee. It’s locked on the Enterprise.”
Scott sat stoic in the chair. “Maintain position, Lieutenant. We canna break orbit now. See if you can get a fix on a countdown.”
“Acknowledged,” replied Sulu.
Scott then turned his attention to the communications station behind him. “Lieutenant Uhura, hail Mr. Spock on the planet’s surface.”
“Sir,” Uhura replied, “Mr. Spock stated that there was to be absolute radio silence until he notified us otherwise.”
“Lassie, when Mr. Spock gave that order, I doubt he was anticipating that we’d be staring down the throat of a thermonuclear warhead.”
“Aye, Sir.” Uhura responded.
Mr. Scott turned to the navigator. “Mr. Chekov, I want you to run a level 2 diagnostic on the deflector shields. I want to know how they know we’re here.”
Chekov nearly leapt out of his station chair and ran to the sciences station, chanting “Aye, Sir.” At times, it was hard not to imagine Chekov having designs on Spock’s job. He was always so enthusiastic about taking over that station. This time, perhaps he was a bit too enthusiastic, as he left the earpiece on the navigation console.
“Ahh, Pavel…” Scotty called, motioning to the navigation station.
“Sir?” Chekov was confused for a moment, until he realized what had happened. He seemed to blush a bit as he walked back down to his usual post to retrieve the apparatus. Sheepishly, he smiled at the stern-faced engineer. Not getting a smile in return, he slinked back to the science station and activated the equipment. Sulu and Scotty exchanged a smile between them as Uhura turned to the command position..
“Hailing frequencies open, Mr. Scott,” she said.
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Spock closed the communicator and frowned, both displeased with the fact that the Enterprise was about to be fired upon in about 2 hours, and with the fact that the communicator had appeared to have unnerved Colonel Austin. Steve Austin’s reaction was a surprise to both members of the landing party. Both had expected him to be suspicious, wary, perhaps even a bit frightened by their appearance. Spock could tell that his attempts at humor were trying to mask a good degree of apprehension, but he was impressed by how well the 20th century astronaut was coping with the whole thing. It was as though this was not the strangest, most bizarre thing the colonel had ever experienced… which, in fact, was true.
In fact, the better part of the last 6 years since the OSI had laid out six million dollars to have the former test pilot, who had suffered near-fatal injuries testing an experimental aircraft, turned into the world’s first super-human Cyborg had been riddled with oddities, unexplained events, and contacts with all sorts of strange people and incidents. Steve Austin, in and of himself, was an oddity. It seemed only natural that he should draw weirdness and amazing phenomena to him like lightning to a lightning rod. However, while he had been acquainted in the past with beings from other planets, this was a new one on him. These were beings from the future, one from another planet, the other from Earth… and the latter, a descendant of himself, at that! It was all a bit much to take in, but Colonel Steve Austin was still managing to take it all in stride… to a point. He looked at the young Enterprise security officer… definitely more than a passing resemblance. “So you’re my… great… great…” he made a gesture indicating a few more “greats” in there, “grandson?”
Jimmy gave an uncomfortable smile. “Uh, yes Sir, I am.”
Steve took a moment to settle all of this information in, and then turned to Spock. “You said something about a matter of some urgency.”
“That is correct, Colonel. Our captain has been taken into custody by what appears to be a Soviet military unit.” Spock barely moved as he spoke. “If my suspicion is correct, they may believe Captain Kirk to be an American espionage agent. If this is so, then his life is in grave danger.”
Steve’s face grew somber. “That would be a pretty fair assumption. Where do you think he was captured?”
“About 67.3km Northeast of Irkutsk,” the Vulcan replied.
Steve’s brow furrowed. “There’s a secret military installation in that area. If your Captain was down there, you have a problem on your hands. What was he doing down there, anyway?”
“We were working on an experiment, there was an error, and Captain Kirk was part of the recovery party sent down to retrieve the experiment.” Spock was determined to give Steve as much information as he could without telling him anything.
“I take it from your tone that the nature of this… experiment… is on a ‘need to know’ basis,” Steve quipped.
“Precisely, Colonel, and until I am certain that we can convince you to help us, I’m afraid you simply do not need to know.”
Steve cocked an eyebrow at Spock. “I’m not sure I want to know. What is it you need of me?”
“As an experienced covert agent of your time, you are undoubtedly familiar with the necessary tactics and procedures we will need to follow to affect the rescue of our captain.” Spock now began to move towards the astronaut with a meaningful look. “You are also a cyborg, and capable of defending yourself under extremely risky situations.”
Steve raised a brow. “You want me to take you in there and help you spring him.”
“Precisely.” Spock paused, and then said, “I can only request that you accept this risk.”
Steve thought hard for a few moments. If things go down badly, how would he explain being in Russia to Oscar, if he was alive to explain at all. His action could be misconstrued as an act of defection. He could be killed, and the Soviets would have access to bionic technology. A whole plethora of possible mishaps and potential tragedies played out in his mind. Finally, however, he was struck by the awesome opportunity at hand; the chance to meet, and work with, fellow astronauts from the future. As far-fetched as the notion seemed, Steve Austin could only think of one answer.
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The experience was more rattling than he expected. It felt as though his entire body had “fallen asleep,” like a limb that has been suffering from restricted blood flow for several minutes. There was also a sensation of being immersed in liquid, and an odd taste of a combination of conductive metal and honey. When Steve tried to focus his eyes, it was like being caught in a golden blizzard with zero visibility. It was actually a fairly frightening experience. The impulse to run was momentarily consumptive, all other thoughts blanking out.
Finally, however, his vision started clearing and he could see shapes again. He saw stark, metallic walls, and a red and black control console of some kind, and another gentleman in a red shirt operating the device. As normalcy was restored, he discovered he was a bit dizzy, and was only vaguely aware of the handsome young descendant to his left reaching over to steady him.
Spock was the first to step off of the transporter platform, followed by both of the Austin kin. He approached the transporter console and hit the communication switch. “Doctor McCoy, Mr. Scott, convene in the observation lounge immediately, please,” he barked. Spock then turned to the two Austins and beckoned them to join him.
Moments later, all five men were in the ship’s observation lounge. There was a window at the far end of the room, and Steve was immediately awestruck. Earth, in all of its blue-green beauty, sat nestled in the window. Steve had seen Earth like this before, when he was doing moonwalks and other missions in space. This time was different, however. He was virtually unencumbered. No space suit, no cramped capsule, and no safety lines… He was standing at a window in street clothes… and he loved the sensation. This was the day he had dreamt of, where people could enjoy the wonder and splendor of space travel. Without realizing it, a broad smile had crossed his face. He turned to the others in the room with him, and was greeted with a quartet of sober faces, uninterested in the spectacular view. Grudgingly, Steve joined them at the table.
Spock began the meeting without fanfare. “Gentlemen, we are faced with two extremely critical dilemmas. By my estimation we have one hour to attempt to rescue Captain Kirk, and slingshot ourselves back to our own time, in order to escape being fired upon by a small flotilla of 100 Megaton warheads.”
Steve put up a hand. “If I may, can you tell whose warheads they are, Mr. Spock?”
Spock addressed the question. “They appear to be American, Colonel.”
Jimmy Austin spoke up. “Sir, how did they detect us? We had our deflector shields up at maximum.”
Steve addressed the question before Spock could respond. “I think I know why. Spock, could you give me an external diagram of the ship?” Spock pressed a few controls and produced an image of the Enterprise on the viewers at the center of the table. Steve continued, “One of our orbiting telescopes captured a grainy image of your ship in orbit. My superior at the OSI is investigating it now, and it is possible that they have judged the Enterprise to be a threat.”
“That’s ridiculous!” McCoy exclaimed. “We haven’t done anything to…”
Spock cut the doctor off, saying, “Doctor, try to keep in mind the era of Earth history we are presently in. The Cold War and the space race are inexorably linked in the competition between the United States and the Soviet Union. Both probably believe that the object they are seeing is an experimental weapon of some kind.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Steve said to McCoy, “I’m rather disappointed in my own country right now. They’re really jumping the gun, if you’ll pardon the pun. At any rate, Spock’s right. We have to get your captain back and get you guys out of here as soon as possible.”
With that, the five men set about making plans to free Captain Kirk.
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The Spartan décor of Colonel Andreiovich’s office was not surprising, but still somewhat more appealing than the interrogation room or the dark cell he had inhabited for the last few hours. Andreiovich sat behind his desk, grinning horrifically like a demonic Cheshire cat, as Captain Kirk, still bloody, grungy and pained, was led in by two Soviet junior officers. Kirk was dropped unceremoniously into the chair opposite Yuri’s desk, and he winced with pain as the impact jarred his body. Yuri dismissed the other men so that they were alone in the room.
Yuri looked the captain over, then smiled. “I trust you had a good night’s sleep, American.”
Kirk mustered enough sarcastic bile to sound ironically unencumbered. “I’ve had better.”
The captor stared his captive down sternly. “My friend, things will go so much easier for you if you cooperate. I do not enjoy torturing people…”
Kirk grinned judgmentally. “Really? That’s not the impression I got, and believe me, I’ve been tortured by far better than you… I know what to look for.”
This comment took Andreiovich by surprise for a moment. This bruised, bloody man was not broken. If anything, torture had given him power. Yuri had dealt with American saboteurs many times. None had made it this far and still been so angrily stoic. Yuri rose from his chair, circled to the front of the desk and glared at Kirk. “Why did you come here?”
“I told you, I’m on a rescue mission, nothing more.”
“Who sent you?”
“Nobody! I came of my own accord.”
Yuri leaned into Kirk’s face. “What agency do you work for?”
“If I told you, you’d never believe me.”
Yuri started losing control. He grabbed Kirk by the shoulders, glaring at the man. This was the opportunity Kirk had been waiting for. With his hands bound, he used every ounce of strength to utilize what weapons he had left. In an almost simultaneous movement, he lurched his head forward, smashing his forehead into the Colonel’s nose with a sickening crackle, while raising his knees right into the Soviet’s crotch rapidly with a thud.
Shocked and incapable of speaking or breathing, Colonel Andreiovich crumpled miserably to the floor. Kirk jumped out of the chair and sat on the floor, swinging his bound hands under his feet until they were in front of him. Reasoning that the commotion would bring reinforcements, Kirk decided to wait on getting his hands unbound. He found his phaser on the desk in front of where Andreiovich had been sitting, and set it on maximum stun, with a wide dispersal pattern that could knock out a large mass of people at once.
As expected, the door thrust open and 5 guards entered the room with machine guns drawn. Kirk fired once and the whole group collapsed to the floor like rag dolls. He quickly adjusted the phaser to a fine beam, low power, and used it to slice through the ropes, accidentally burning his wrist in the process. The wound was painful, but superficial, and Kirk had a few seconds to try to formulate an escape plan. He located his broken communicator and a layout map of the base they were holding him in. He was pretty close to the center of the complex, with barracks and various other discreet buildings surrounding. There was also reason to believe that there were surveillance cameras and electronic intrusion detectors scattered throughout. Kirk quickly realized that his primary goal would be to try to find a hiding place where he could attempt to repair the communicator and contact the Enterprise. He looked around the room for any electronic devices he could use to cannibalize parts from. Alas, all he could see was an old clock-radio and a walkie-talkie. Kirk grabbed the WT, figuring that, if he couldn’t get the communicator to work, he might be able to at least reconfigure the signal on the WT and contact the Enterprise.
As he crossed the room, he noticed the colonel still barely conscious, writhing in pain. For a moment, he contemplated killing the bastard outright, payment for the torment and indignities he’d been forced to endure, but thought better of it. He set his phaser on stun force 2 and gave the agonized Soviet officer a nice nap instead. “Sleep tight, now,” Kirk quipped as he limped out of the office, favoring one leg.
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As Callahan entered Goldman’s office with a stack of reports, she looked over to notice Jaime looking very concerned. Oscar was still on the phone, trying to convince the White House to let him speak with the president. Callahan carefully sorted the reports in her hand and dispersed them to three piles on Oscar’s desk at his left, then sat beside Jaime on the sofa.
Jaime looked up at her friend expectantly. “Any word from Steve yet?”
Callahan looked into her friend’s eyes, “Sorry, Jaime, not yet. We’ve tried his home three times in the last hour, no answer. He’s not in the building either.”
“I know he’s busy, damn you! This is critical. I need to speak with him at once!” Oscar’s patience was stretched to its limit and then some by this point. He was stuck talking to a presidential aide, who was being rather obtuse about the whole situation. “Yeah? Well, tell the president that if we fire those missiles without finding out who we’re firing them at, we could be looking at something more devastating than a simple World War III scenario… You got that? Good!!!” With that, Oscar slammed down the receiver, muttering under his breath, “Stupid idiot…”
Jaime tried to calm her friend. “Oscar, calm down. Now, we know that Steve has got to be around somewhere. Why don’t we go over to his apartment and see if he’s there. He might have slept through Callahan’s attempts to call.”
Oscar looked up, weary and pained. “You and Rudy should go. I have to stay here and try to stop those damn missiles from being launched. Callahan,” he paused a moment. “What time is it?”
Callahan checked her watch. “It’s about 3:30am, Sir.”
Oscar smiled. “Go on home and get some sleep. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”
“I don’t think I can sleep, under the circumstances. I’d rather stay here.” Callahan replied.
“I see what you mean. Okay, but don’t push yourself too hard. If you need a rest, let me know.”
Callahan was a bit surprised. Oscar was a good man, and normally fairly nice to her, but this was an unusually high amount of compassion, considering the amount of pressure he was under. She gave Oscar a warm smile, said, “Yes Sir, Mr. Goldman,” and exited the office.
Jaime smiled at Oscar. “Sometimes, you amaze me, Oscar.”
Oscar gave a wry smile. “I can’t let you and Steve always be the ‘amazing ones,’ now can I?”
Within about 20 minutes, Jaime had collected Rudy Wells from his lab and taken him in her gold Chevette to Steve’s apartment. They stood at the door for several minutes, ringing the doorbell and knocking on the door, before Jaime finally resorted to using her bionics to force the door open. Once inside, they found the apartment vacant, no sign of Steve anywhere. Rudy looked over at the drawing Steve was working on and was amazed. “That looks like the blob the space telescope captured. He got that much detail with his bionic eye?”
Jaime smiled and said, “Yup! Bet you didn’t know Steve had such a talent for art, did ya?”
Rudy held up the picture of the Starship Enterprise, and grinned. “Well, I doubt we’ll be seeing this hanging in the Smithsonian any time soon.”
Jaime rolled her eyes, saying, “Come on, Rudy. We’ve got to find him.”
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When James Kirk finally found a small building he could get into, he was nearly deranged with agony. He knew by now that he must have at least a dozen rib fractures, a broken tooth, and a possibly dislocated kneecap. Fortunately, the building, which appeared to be some kind of storage facility, was currently uninhabited. Only 5 or 6 of the dozens of lighting fixtures were operating, and the interior held a compact grid of storage shelves, containing everything from uniforms to armaments to office and medical supplies. Kirk decided to make the best of this find and gathered up all of the uniform components and medical supplies he could carry, as well as a compact machine gun and some ammunition.
He busied himself for several minutes bandaging wounds, wrapping his knee and administering a mild pain medication to himself, and then put together a full corporal’s uniform and dressed himself. He tried the best he could to disguise the cuts and bruises on his face, then he finally found a corner of the building that looked least frequently habited, and began work on the communicator.
After about half an hour, he surmised, the colonel and his men in the office must have come to, because outside, Kirk could hear military pandemonium. He chuckled to himself at the though that angrily spoken Russian sounded a great deal like Romulan. He was against an outer wall, and was shaken to hear trooping footsteps seemingly right on top of him. How long would it be, he wondered silently, before they came in and found him?
He quickly realized that the only way to prolong his freedom would be to attempt to blend in with the mass of Russian soldiers who were looking for him. He could only hope that his attempts to disguise his identity would be sufficient to enable him in this cause long enough to gain egress to this dismal place.
Corporal James Kirkov waited for the footsteps to dissipate, and he carefully made his way out of the building.
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As Dr. McCoy escorted Steve Austin into the Enterprise sick bay, Steve turned to the doctor and said, “Wow, Rudy would give his right arm for a chance to work in this.”
“There’s too much gadgetry in it for my taste… Give me an old-fashioned stethoscope any day.” McCoy then thought a moment. “Of course, at least we don’t have to carve a man up like a chunk of meat every time they need an operation.”
Steve got up on the examination table as Scotty entered the room. “Aye, Doctor, ye wanted to see me?”
“I’m going to need a hand with this Scotty.”
Steve looked up at the two. “Hand with what?”
“We’re going to try to adjust your bionic eye so that it can detect the saurian kellaride power cells in the captain’s phaser and communicator.” McCoy explained.
“Aye,” Scotty continued, “They give off a wee bit of interference in the ultra-violet spectrum that manifests itself as an orange halo-effect, when viewed through a UV sensitive optical device. It’s a very basic reset to a more sensitive algorithm.
Steve regarded the pair cautiously. “You sure you guys know what you’re doing?”
McCoy laughed. “Don’t worry, Colonel,” he volunteered, “Rudy Wells’ bionic research isn’t top-secret in our time. In fact, it’s required reading for many starship medical officers.”
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Jaime’s patience was wearing thin. All of Steve’s usual haunts turned up nothing. The café he normally had breakfast at hadn’t seen him, he hadn’t been to the gym, and he wasn’t off on a bionic run at the park near his condo. For all intents and purposes, Steve Austin had dropped off the face of the Earth. It was now barely more than an hour before the missiles were set to launch… then… it was too terrible to contemplate. At last, they pulled back into her reserved space at the OSI complex and she turned to Rudy. “I’m out of ideas. Is there anywhere else he might have gone on foot that you know of?”
“Are you sure his car was in the garage?” Rudy queried.
“Of course I’m sure, Rudy,” Jaime snapped, “what do you… Oh, God, I’m sorry, Rudy.”
“It’s okay, Jaime,” Rudy soothed. “We’re all on edge. Let’s go back up to my lab. I can make a few calls. Maybe we can get someone at NASA to help us contact that UFO, if nothing else. If we can warn them about the danger they’re in…”
Jaime considered this a moment. “You go on ahead, Rudy. I want to check back at Steve’s. Maybe we missed each other somehow.”
Rudy leaned over and kissed Jaime’s cheek. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”
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Cargo Bay 7 of the starship Enterprise was at least as big as the cargo area of the new Space Shuttle Enterprise that Steve had been helping test. This cargo bay was a lot more streamlined however, and there was a lot of cargo that the space shuttles would not be likely to carry in their holds. Foodstuff, tools, medical supplies… all the practicalities of a military vessel at sea. In a way, Steve surmised, the metaphor was more than apt. This was, after all, a military vessel from the future. The daily needs of such a ship would not be that different from an aircraft carrier or a submarine on a long tour of duty.
Steve only allowed himself a moment or two to ponder the possibilities. The urgency of his “mission” was to great to indulge in a poetic emersion into the details of his current circumstance. As instructed, Steve performed a brief combination of winks of his left eye to activate the newly modified infra red settings. As hoped, Steve rapidly scanned the cluttered cargo bay and located the power cell from Spock’s communicator. It was on the floor at the far end of the room, surrounded by a ring of large cargo containers. To Steve, the indication looked a bit like a glowing gold orb, pulsing like a distant star. There was no way to retrieve the object unless Steve scaled the stacks of containers surrounding the device.
With a deep breath and a forceful lunge, Steve Austin propelled himself nearly four meters into the air and over the wall of cargo containers, landing deftly next to the communicator. He then picked it up, flipped it open and addressed the Vulcan. “Major Tom to Ground Control, objective reached.”
Back on the bridge, the Vulcan remained stoic, while several members of the bridge crew smiled. “Congratulations, Colonel. Have Mr. Scott escort you to the transporter room. I will join you there directly.” Spock closed the communications channel and rose from the command chair, headed for the turbo lift. As the lift doors swished open, he said, “You have the Con, Mr. Sulu.”
The doors closed as Sulu said, “Aye, Sir,” then Chekov leaned over to his colleague.
“Pink Floyd?” Chekov queried.
Sulu shook his head as he relinquished his post to his replacement to take his position in the Captain’s chair. “No, I think it was Elton John.”
“Ahh,” Chekov shrugged, “I get all those classical composers mixed up.”
Uhura rose from the communications station to present Sulu with a report to sign. With a wry smile, she remarked, “You’re both wrong, gentlemen. It was David Bowie.”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
As the doors to the transporter room swished open, Spock looked at Scotty. “Time before missile launch?”
Scotty checked his data screen. “52 minutes, 33 seconds, Mr. Spock.”
“We do not have much time.” Spock looked towards the transporter platform. Both Colonel Steve Austin and Lt. Jimmy Austin were standing on pads, ready to go. Spock addressed the junior officer. “Lieutenant, you have not been assigned to this landing party.”
The lieutenant looked up at the First Officer. “Request permission to accompany the landing party, Sir.”
“Request denied, Lieutenant. Return to your duty station.”
“But, Sir…”
“That was an order, Lieutenant. This is an incredibly risky mission, and the more people we have beaming down with us exacerbates the possibility of irreparable contamination to the timeline. Your eagerness is noted and commendable, but at this time, your place is on the Enterprise.”
Grudgingly, the great-great-great-great grandson of Colonel Steve Austin accepted the logic of Spock’s statement. As he was about to leave the platform, Steve patted him on the shoulder, saying, “Don’t worry, Airman, I’ll bring you back a souvenir.” The lieutenant smiled and looked much happier as he passed Spock.
“Mr. Scott, I trust you have the coordinates I supplied to you from the bridge?”
“Aye, Sir,” replied Scotty with a nod.
Spock turned to Steve. “I feel I should advise you that this mission is still on a purely voluntary basis. If you have any reluctance to proceed, now is the time to voice your consternation, Colonel.”
“What, and let you have all the fun?” Steve smiled, and cocked an eyebrow, suddenly finding it amusing that he and Spock not only shared this trait, but with the same eyebrow. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Very well, Colonel. Mr. Scott, energize!”
TO BE CONTINUED...
Here's the next part of the story...
Chapter Two: Spacewalk
The dull thrum of the antiquated ventilation system was threatening to drive him mad. Surely it had been several hours since he’d been brought into the dark room to sleep off the effects of his torture. They would be back for him soon, now, and if they determined that he was of no use to them, he would be killed.
James Kirk mulled over the options… as Spock would say, they looked most unpromising. All they asked were questions about his identity, and his mission here. His answers must have seemed quite puzzling. He was having trouble now remembering just what it was that brought him here in the first place… Ah, yes…
Stardate 4950.3
The Enterprise had been ordered to complete tests on their new, high-warp capable shuttlecraft, Copernicus. Actually, it was the same Copernicus shuttlecraft that had serviced the Enterprise for the past 4 years. Starfleet Research had spent months redesigning the warp drive systems. Normally, Warp-driven shuttlecrafts were only capable of Warp 2, and that was only in emergencies. Now, it was possible to have a shuttle craft that was almost as fast as a Starship. This could have a great tactical advantage, especially if such a shuttle could also be equipped with weapons systems.
Kirk remembered with a grin Scotty’s mixed emotions at the thought that a shuttlecraft could conceivably out-maneuver a Starship. It took a moment for him to remember that Klingon and Romulan warships were also Starships, for all intents and purposes.
Unfortunately, the third test of the Copernicus’ new drive system ended with an engine imbalance, hurling the ship back in time, much the way a similar imbalance, coupled with an attempt to escape the gravity well of a black star, threw the Enterprise back in time to the late 1960’s a few years before.
This time, Spock had been able to triangulate the estimated time the Copernicus would have been flung to, somewhere in the middle of 1978. Starfleet, apparently aware of the possibility of this type of problem, decided these tests would be conducted in Earth’s system. It was a double edged sword, of course. On the one hand, the shuttle’s crew, Roberts and Mahoney, were both human and could blend in with the indigenous population if they had to. On the other hand, they had technology that was well over 2 centuries ahead of it’s time scattered across the plains of a small Soviet protectorate.
When the Enterprise located the vessel, and its surviving crew, Kirk, Austin and Lt. Geoffrey Carstairs had beamed down to recover some of the more critical parts of the shuttle’s fuselage and control mechanisms. Kirk had been unlucky enough to be spotted by a Soviet patrol and taken into custody… and the rest, as they say, was just one joyous thrill ride after another.
The Soviet officer known as Yuri seemed to delight in torturing Kirk, using knives, blunt objects, and his bare hands, to inflict grievous bodily harm on the usually robust captain. Yuri had also used various truth serums and psychoactive drugs to get Kirk to tell him everything he could about something called “Project Dionysus,” and some group called the OSI. Kirk believed it was about the 200th time he had stated, in all honesty that he had no idea what the OSI was that Yuri lost patience with him and knocked him unconscious the first time.
As Captain James Tiberius Kirk lay on a lumpy cot somewhere in Western Russia in the late 20th Century, mulling over these recent events in his mind, the pain was giving way to one, rather uncomfortably vengeful thought…
That General Yuri Sonofabitch better pray to every God he has ever heard of that I don’t escape from this room… I’ve learned more about dispensing torture from the Klingons than you could ever dream of.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Steve’s mouth fell agape as the two forms glimmering in front of him coalesced into corporeal shape. The two figures stood before him, apparently human. One was about his size, yet slightly thinner, and bore a striking resemblance to… himself! The other, taller figure was gaunt and had stern, chiseled features, with rather odd looking eyebrows and… Pointed Ears? They wore basically identical outfits, the main difference being the color of their shirts. The taller man wore a blue shirt with two gold braids at the end of each sleeve. The other wore a red shirt with a single solid braid. Both men had some kind of chevron, gold with a black outline, adorning the left side above their breast.
“I don’t suppose you guys are here to deliver a pizza,” was Steve’s attempt at a friendly wisecrack. The younger, red-shirted man smiled a bit, but the taller man remained stone-faced. After a beat, Steve said, “I guess that would be a no. You speak English.”
The taller man spoke with great authority and dispassion. “That is correct. I am Commander Spock, first officer aboard the United Earth Starship Enterprise. This is our security chief.”
The younger man in red cautiously approached Steve, hand extended in a friendly gesture. “My name is Jimmy… Jimmy Austin.”
“What the…” Steve couldn’t even remember the correct profanity to complete the sentence, as awestricken as he was. “Earth starship? Austin? What the Hell is this all about?” He turned his gaze to Spock. “And, no offence, but, what the Devil are you?”
“I am… not human… at least, not completely.”
“Holy crap!” Steve muttered as he absently took the younger Austin’s hand.
“Colonel,” Jimmy began, “I know this is quite a shock, and we really don’t have much time. We need your help.”
“I… I don’t know… I mean…”
“Colonel Austin,” Spock began, “We would not have risked such a problematic venture were it not a matter of the utmost urgency!”
“’Utmost urgency,’” Steve mimicked. “You and Oscar would get along famously.” Steve’s wry grin amused the young lieutenant, but Spock’s demeanor remained stoic. “You don’t laugh much, do you?”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “No, Colonel. I do not.”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Jaime stepped into Oscar’s office for a quick visit before catching the flight back to Ojai, and was greeted by nothing less than pandemonium. Three aides were milling about the office of the OSI director, looking over various readouts and photographs, and Oscar was pacing impatiently behind the desk gripping the receiver of the “Red” phone tightly in his right hand. He was obviously highly stressed.
“Yes, this is Oscar Goldman. Get me NORAD command, right away. – Yes, Colonel Richardson? This is Goldman, OSI… What’s the situation?” He noticed Jaime and motioned for her to sit down. She began to protest, but Oscar insisted, saying, “I need to talk to you, Jaime…”
Jaime sat in the large easy chair to the right of Oscar’s desk, as the aides gave him their reports and were assigned tasks. As this occurred, Oscar also managed to get a tactical report from the base commander at NORAD, and he ordered to have SAC go to standby mode, making sure they would not take any further actions without orders from him.
Finally, when the office was empty, save for Jaime and Oscar, he sat heavily in his chair and buried his face in his hands for a moment. After waiting a few discreet seconds, Jaime looked at her friend with compassion. “What was that all about, Oscar?”
“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you, but we’re on the verge of a huge international incident.” Oscar rubbed his eyes, burning with fatigue. “This morning, as you know, we received an unusual image from one of NASA’s orbital observatories, with what appears to have been a spaceship in high orbit over Earth.
“Now, apparently, the Soviets are on maximum alert over some object they say crashed in the wilderness just outside Irkutsk. One of our spy satellites got a picture of it.” Oscar handed the image over to Jaime. “Now, they’re accusing us of removing it… somehow… without being detected, within 19 hours after they say it crashed.”
Shock crossed Jaime’s face. “Oh my God, Oscar, look at this!” As Oscar came around the desk, Jaime used a red pen to circle a section of the photograph. It was an aerial view of a crash site, depicting a vessel that looked more like a small utility van than an aircraft. The object she had circled was a cylindrical object with a spheroid object at one end. She pointed to it, saying, “I just came from Steve’s apartment. He was sketching that… whatchamacallit that the space telescope got a shot of. This cylindrical object looks just like two of the projections on the space object, what ever it is.”
“Now, wait a minute, Jaime. Are you telling me that this crashed vehicle is an alien spaceship?” Oscar’s disbelief was almost palpable. “Is that possible?”
“Oscar, you know that the people who built Bigfoot were aliens. Why is this any less possible? It obviously isn’t a Russian ship.” Jaime looked Oscar in the eye, a look that basically indicated that there was no other logical explanation.
Oscar’s look was a bit more pained. “My God… what have I done?”
Jaime gave a concerned look. “What is it?”
“I just ordered NORAD to have one of our orbital nuclear platforms to adjust its target coordinates. They’re set to fire in 2 hours if we are not contacted with confirmation that it’s non-belligerent.”
Jaime looked at Oscar, aghast. “Well, you had better recall the order.”
Oscar looked down. “I can’t. Now that the countdown has started, it can only be countermanded by Presidential order.”
“Well, didn’t you even try to contact them? Let them know you were aware of their presence?” Jaime fumed. “They may be a peaceful society, but if you destroy one of their ships, they could treat it as an act of war!”
Oscar found his place sullenly behind his desk again. Soberly, he breathed deeply, then said, “It’s out of our hands now, Jaime.”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
The deflector indicator at the center of the helm/navigation panel lit up, flashing rapidly. Sulu checked the readings on his panel, and turned to Mr. Scott, presently seated in the captain’s chair. “Deflectors just kicked on, Mr. Scott. Apparently, one of the orbiting nuclear platforms is adjusting its perigee. It’s locked on the Enterprise.”
Scott sat stoic in the chair. “Maintain position, Lieutenant. We canna break orbit now. See if you can get a fix on a countdown.”
“Acknowledged,” replied Sulu.
Scott then turned his attention to the communications station behind him. “Lieutenant Uhura, hail Mr. Spock on the planet’s surface.”
“Sir,” Uhura replied, “Mr. Spock stated that there was to be absolute radio silence until he notified us otherwise.”
“Lassie, when Mr. Spock gave that order, I doubt he was anticipating that we’d be staring down the throat of a thermonuclear warhead.”
“Aye, Sir.” Uhura responded.
Mr. Scott turned to the navigator. “Mr. Chekov, I want you to run a level 2 diagnostic on the deflector shields. I want to know how they know we’re here.”
Chekov nearly leapt out of his station chair and ran to the sciences station, chanting “Aye, Sir.” At times, it was hard not to imagine Chekov having designs on Spock’s job. He was always so enthusiastic about taking over that station. This time, perhaps he was a bit too enthusiastic, as he left the earpiece on the navigation console.
“Ahh, Pavel…” Scotty called, motioning to the navigation station.
“Sir?” Chekov was confused for a moment, until he realized what had happened. He seemed to blush a bit as he walked back down to his usual post to retrieve the apparatus. Sheepishly, he smiled at the stern-faced engineer. Not getting a smile in return, he slinked back to the science station and activated the equipment. Sulu and Scotty exchanged a smile between them as Uhura turned to the command position..
“Hailing frequencies open, Mr. Scott,” she said.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Spock closed the communicator and frowned, both displeased with the fact that the Enterprise was about to be fired upon in about 2 hours, and with the fact that the communicator had appeared to have unnerved Colonel Austin. Steve Austin’s reaction was a surprise to both members of the landing party. Both had expected him to be suspicious, wary, perhaps even a bit frightened by their appearance. Spock could tell that his attempts at humor were trying to mask a good degree of apprehension, but he was impressed by how well the 20th century astronaut was coping with the whole thing. It was as though this was not the strangest, most bizarre thing the colonel had ever experienced… which, in fact, was true.
In fact, the better part of the last 6 years since the OSI had laid out six million dollars to have the former test pilot, who had suffered near-fatal injuries testing an experimental aircraft, turned into the world’s first super-human Cyborg had been riddled with oddities, unexplained events, and contacts with all sorts of strange people and incidents. Steve Austin, in and of himself, was an oddity. It seemed only natural that he should draw weirdness and amazing phenomena to him like lightning to a lightning rod. However, while he had been acquainted in the past with beings from other planets, this was a new one on him. These were beings from the future, one from another planet, the other from Earth… and the latter, a descendant of himself, at that! It was all a bit much to take in, but Colonel Steve Austin was still managing to take it all in stride… to a point. He looked at the young Enterprise security officer… definitely more than a passing resemblance. “So you’re my… great… great…” he made a gesture indicating a few more “greats” in there, “grandson?”
Jimmy gave an uncomfortable smile. “Uh, yes Sir, I am.”
Steve took a moment to settle all of this information in, and then turned to Spock. “You said something about a matter of some urgency.”
“That is correct, Colonel. Our captain has been taken into custody by what appears to be a Soviet military unit.” Spock barely moved as he spoke. “If my suspicion is correct, they may believe Captain Kirk to be an American espionage agent. If this is so, then his life is in grave danger.”
Steve’s face grew somber. “That would be a pretty fair assumption. Where do you think he was captured?”
“About 67.3km Northeast of Irkutsk,” the Vulcan replied.
Steve’s brow furrowed. “There’s a secret military installation in that area. If your Captain was down there, you have a problem on your hands. What was he doing down there, anyway?”
“We were working on an experiment, there was an error, and Captain Kirk was part of the recovery party sent down to retrieve the experiment.” Spock was determined to give Steve as much information as he could without telling him anything.
“I take it from your tone that the nature of this… experiment… is on a ‘need to know’ basis,” Steve quipped.
“Precisely, Colonel, and until I am certain that we can convince you to help us, I’m afraid you simply do not need to know.”
Steve cocked an eyebrow at Spock. “I’m not sure I want to know. What is it you need of me?”
“As an experienced covert agent of your time, you are undoubtedly familiar with the necessary tactics and procedures we will need to follow to affect the rescue of our captain.” Spock now began to move towards the astronaut with a meaningful look. “You are also a cyborg, and capable of defending yourself under extremely risky situations.”
Steve raised a brow. “You want me to take you in there and help you spring him.”
“Precisely.” Spock paused, and then said, “I can only request that you accept this risk.”
Steve thought hard for a few moments. If things go down badly, how would he explain being in Russia to Oscar, if he was alive to explain at all. His action could be misconstrued as an act of defection. He could be killed, and the Soviets would have access to bionic technology. A whole plethora of possible mishaps and potential tragedies played out in his mind. Finally, however, he was struck by the awesome opportunity at hand; the chance to meet, and work with, fellow astronauts from the future. As far-fetched as the notion seemed, Steve Austin could only think of one answer.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
The experience was more rattling than he expected. It felt as though his entire body had “fallen asleep,” like a limb that has been suffering from restricted blood flow for several minutes. There was also a sensation of being immersed in liquid, and an odd taste of a combination of conductive metal and honey. When Steve tried to focus his eyes, it was like being caught in a golden blizzard with zero visibility. It was actually a fairly frightening experience. The impulse to run was momentarily consumptive, all other thoughts blanking out.
Finally, however, his vision started clearing and he could see shapes again. He saw stark, metallic walls, and a red and black control console of some kind, and another gentleman in a red shirt operating the device. As normalcy was restored, he discovered he was a bit dizzy, and was only vaguely aware of the handsome young descendant to his left reaching over to steady him.
Spock was the first to step off of the transporter platform, followed by both of the Austin kin. He approached the transporter console and hit the communication switch. “Doctor McCoy, Mr. Scott, convene in the observation lounge immediately, please,” he barked. Spock then turned to the two Austins and beckoned them to join him.
Moments later, all five men were in the ship’s observation lounge. There was a window at the far end of the room, and Steve was immediately awestruck. Earth, in all of its blue-green beauty, sat nestled in the window. Steve had seen Earth like this before, when he was doing moonwalks and other missions in space. This time was different, however. He was virtually unencumbered. No space suit, no cramped capsule, and no safety lines… He was standing at a window in street clothes… and he loved the sensation. This was the day he had dreamt of, where people could enjoy the wonder and splendor of space travel. Without realizing it, a broad smile had crossed his face. He turned to the others in the room with him, and was greeted with a quartet of sober faces, uninterested in the spectacular view. Grudgingly, Steve joined them at the table.
Spock began the meeting without fanfare. “Gentlemen, we are faced with two extremely critical dilemmas. By my estimation we have one hour to attempt to rescue Captain Kirk, and slingshot ourselves back to our own time, in order to escape being fired upon by a small flotilla of 100 Megaton warheads.”
Steve put up a hand. “If I may, can you tell whose warheads they are, Mr. Spock?”
Spock addressed the question. “They appear to be American, Colonel.”
Jimmy Austin spoke up. “Sir, how did they detect us? We had our deflector shields up at maximum.”
Steve addressed the question before Spock could respond. “I think I know why. Spock, could you give me an external diagram of the ship?” Spock pressed a few controls and produced an image of the Enterprise on the viewers at the center of the table. Steve continued, “One of our orbiting telescopes captured a grainy image of your ship in orbit. My superior at the OSI is investigating it now, and it is possible that they have judged the Enterprise to be a threat.”
“That’s ridiculous!” McCoy exclaimed. “We haven’t done anything to…”
Spock cut the doctor off, saying, “Doctor, try to keep in mind the era of Earth history we are presently in. The Cold War and the space race are inexorably linked in the competition between the United States and the Soviet Union. Both probably believe that the object they are seeing is an experimental weapon of some kind.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” Steve said to McCoy, “I’m rather disappointed in my own country right now. They’re really jumping the gun, if you’ll pardon the pun. At any rate, Spock’s right. We have to get your captain back and get you guys out of here as soon as possible.”
With that, the five men set about making plans to free Captain Kirk.
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The Spartan décor of Colonel Andreiovich’s office was not surprising, but still somewhat more appealing than the interrogation room or the dark cell he had inhabited for the last few hours. Andreiovich sat behind his desk, grinning horrifically like a demonic Cheshire cat, as Captain Kirk, still bloody, grungy and pained, was led in by two Soviet junior officers. Kirk was dropped unceremoniously into the chair opposite Yuri’s desk, and he winced with pain as the impact jarred his body. Yuri dismissed the other men so that they were alone in the room.
Yuri looked the captain over, then smiled. “I trust you had a good night’s sleep, American.”
Kirk mustered enough sarcastic bile to sound ironically unencumbered. “I’ve had better.”
The captor stared his captive down sternly. “My friend, things will go so much easier for you if you cooperate. I do not enjoy torturing people…”
Kirk grinned judgmentally. “Really? That’s not the impression I got, and believe me, I’ve been tortured by far better than you… I know what to look for.”
This comment took Andreiovich by surprise for a moment. This bruised, bloody man was not broken. If anything, torture had given him power. Yuri had dealt with American saboteurs many times. None had made it this far and still been so angrily stoic. Yuri rose from his chair, circled to the front of the desk and glared at Kirk. “Why did you come here?”
“I told you, I’m on a rescue mission, nothing more.”
“Who sent you?”
“Nobody! I came of my own accord.”
Yuri leaned into Kirk’s face. “What agency do you work for?”
“If I told you, you’d never believe me.”
Yuri started losing control. He grabbed Kirk by the shoulders, glaring at the man. This was the opportunity Kirk had been waiting for. With his hands bound, he used every ounce of strength to utilize what weapons he had left. In an almost simultaneous movement, he lurched his head forward, smashing his forehead into the Colonel’s nose with a sickening crackle, while raising his knees right into the Soviet’s crotch rapidly with a thud.
Shocked and incapable of speaking or breathing, Colonel Andreiovich crumpled miserably to the floor. Kirk jumped out of the chair and sat on the floor, swinging his bound hands under his feet until they were in front of him. Reasoning that the commotion would bring reinforcements, Kirk decided to wait on getting his hands unbound. He found his phaser on the desk in front of where Andreiovich had been sitting, and set it on maximum stun, with a wide dispersal pattern that could knock out a large mass of people at once.
As expected, the door thrust open and 5 guards entered the room with machine guns drawn. Kirk fired once and the whole group collapsed to the floor like rag dolls. He quickly adjusted the phaser to a fine beam, low power, and used it to slice through the ropes, accidentally burning his wrist in the process. The wound was painful, but superficial, and Kirk had a few seconds to try to formulate an escape plan. He located his broken communicator and a layout map of the base they were holding him in. He was pretty close to the center of the complex, with barracks and various other discreet buildings surrounding. There was also reason to believe that there were surveillance cameras and electronic intrusion detectors scattered throughout. Kirk quickly realized that his primary goal would be to try to find a hiding place where he could attempt to repair the communicator and contact the Enterprise. He looked around the room for any electronic devices he could use to cannibalize parts from. Alas, all he could see was an old clock-radio and a walkie-talkie. Kirk grabbed the WT, figuring that, if he couldn’t get the communicator to work, he might be able to at least reconfigure the signal on the WT and contact the Enterprise.
As he crossed the room, he noticed the colonel still barely conscious, writhing in pain. For a moment, he contemplated killing the bastard outright, payment for the torment and indignities he’d been forced to endure, but thought better of it. He set his phaser on stun force 2 and gave the agonized Soviet officer a nice nap instead. “Sleep tight, now,” Kirk quipped as he limped out of the office, favoring one leg.
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As Callahan entered Goldman’s office with a stack of reports, she looked over to notice Jaime looking very concerned. Oscar was still on the phone, trying to convince the White House to let him speak with the president. Callahan carefully sorted the reports in her hand and dispersed them to three piles on Oscar’s desk at his left, then sat beside Jaime on the sofa.
Jaime looked up at her friend expectantly. “Any word from Steve yet?”
Callahan looked into her friend’s eyes, “Sorry, Jaime, not yet. We’ve tried his home three times in the last hour, no answer. He’s not in the building either.”
“I know he’s busy, damn you! This is critical. I need to speak with him at once!” Oscar’s patience was stretched to its limit and then some by this point. He was stuck talking to a presidential aide, who was being rather obtuse about the whole situation. “Yeah? Well, tell the president that if we fire those missiles without finding out who we’re firing them at, we could be looking at something more devastating than a simple World War III scenario… You got that? Good!!!” With that, Oscar slammed down the receiver, muttering under his breath, “Stupid idiot…”
Jaime tried to calm her friend. “Oscar, calm down. Now, we know that Steve has got to be around somewhere. Why don’t we go over to his apartment and see if he’s there. He might have slept through Callahan’s attempts to call.”
Oscar looked up, weary and pained. “You and Rudy should go. I have to stay here and try to stop those damn missiles from being launched. Callahan,” he paused a moment. “What time is it?”
Callahan checked her watch. “It’s about 3:30am, Sir.”
Oscar smiled. “Go on home and get some sleep. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”
“I don’t think I can sleep, under the circumstances. I’d rather stay here.” Callahan replied.
“I see what you mean. Okay, but don’t push yourself too hard. If you need a rest, let me know.”
Callahan was a bit surprised. Oscar was a good man, and normally fairly nice to her, but this was an unusually high amount of compassion, considering the amount of pressure he was under. She gave Oscar a warm smile, said, “Yes Sir, Mr. Goldman,” and exited the office.
Jaime smiled at Oscar. “Sometimes, you amaze me, Oscar.”
Oscar gave a wry smile. “I can’t let you and Steve always be the ‘amazing ones,’ now can I?”
Within about 20 minutes, Jaime had collected Rudy Wells from his lab and taken him in her gold Chevette to Steve’s apartment. They stood at the door for several minutes, ringing the doorbell and knocking on the door, before Jaime finally resorted to using her bionics to force the door open. Once inside, they found the apartment vacant, no sign of Steve anywhere. Rudy looked over at the drawing Steve was working on and was amazed. “That looks like the blob the space telescope captured. He got that much detail with his bionic eye?”
Jaime smiled and said, “Yup! Bet you didn’t know Steve had such a talent for art, did ya?”
Rudy held up the picture of the Starship Enterprise, and grinned. “Well, I doubt we’ll be seeing this hanging in the Smithsonian any time soon.”
Jaime rolled her eyes, saying, “Come on, Rudy. We’ve got to find him.”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
When James Kirk finally found a small building he could get into, he was nearly deranged with agony. He knew by now that he must have at least a dozen rib fractures, a broken tooth, and a possibly dislocated kneecap. Fortunately, the building, which appeared to be some kind of storage facility, was currently uninhabited. Only 5 or 6 of the dozens of lighting fixtures were operating, and the interior held a compact grid of storage shelves, containing everything from uniforms to armaments to office and medical supplies. Kirk decided to make the best of this find and gathered up all of the uniform components and medical supplies he could carry, as well as a compact machine gun and some ammunition.
He busied himself for several minutes bandaging wounds, wrapping his knee and administering a mild pain medication to himself, and then put together a full corporal’s uniform and dressed himself. He tried the best he could to disguise the cuts and bruises on his face, then he finally found a corner of the building that looked least frequently habited, and began work on the communicator.
After about half an hour, he surmised, the colonel and his men in the office must have come to, because outside, Kirk could hear military pandemonium. He chuckled to himself at the though that angrily spoken Russian sounded a great deal like Romulan. He was against an outer wall, and was shaken to hear trooping footsteps seemingly right on top of him. How long would it be, he wondered silently, before they came in and found him?
He quickly realized that the only way to prolong his freedom would be to attempt to blend in with the mass of Russian soldiers who were looking for him. He could only hope that his attempts to disguise his identity would be sufficient to enable him in this cause long enough to gain egress to this dismal place.
Corporal James Kirkov waited for the footsteps to dissipate, and he carefully made his way out of the building.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
As Dr. McCoy escorted Steve Austin into the Enterprise sick bay, Steve turned to the doctor and said, “Wow, Rudy would give his right arm for a chance to work in this.”
“There’s too much gadgetry in it for my taste… Give me an old-fashioned stethoscope any day.” McCoy then thought a moment. “Of course, at least we don’t have to carve a man up like a chunk of meat every time they need an operation.”
Steve got up on the examination table as Scotty entered the room. “Aye, Doctor, ye wanted to see me?”
“I’m going to need a hand with this Scotty.”
Steve looked up at the two. “Hand with what?”
“We’re going to try to adjust your bionic eye so that it can detect the saurian kellaride power cells in the captain’s phaser and communicator.” McCoy explained.
“Aye,” Scotty continued, “They give off a wee bit of interference in the ultra-violet spectrum that manifests itself as an orange halo-effect, when viewed through a UV sensitive optical device. It’s a very basic reset to a more sensitive algorithm.
Steve regarded the pair cautiously. “You sure you guys know what you’re doing?”
McCoy laughed. “Don’t worry, Colonel,” he volunteered, “Rudy Wells’ bionic research isn’t top-secret in our time. In fact, it’s required reading for many starship medical officers.”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Jaime’s patience was wearing thin. All of Steve’s usual haunts turned up nothing. The café he normally had breakfast at hadn’t seen him, he hadn’t been to the gym, and he wasn’t off on a bionic run at the park near his condo. For all intents and purposes, Steve Austin had dropped off the face of the Earth. It was now barely more than an hour before the missiles were set to launch… then… it was too terrible to contemplate. At last, they pulled back into her reserved space at the OSI complex and she turned to Rudy. “I’m out of ideas. Is there anywhere else he might have gone on foot that you know of?”
“Are you sure his car was in the garage?” Rudy queried.
“Of course I’m sure, Rudy,” Jaime snapped, “what do you… Oh, God, I’m sorry, Rudy.”
“It’s okay, Jaime,” Rudy soothed. “We’re all on edge. Let’s go back up to my lab. I can make a few calls. Maybe we can get someone at NASA to help us contact that UFO, if nothing else. If we can warn them about the danger they’re in…”
Jaime considered this a moment. “You go on ahead, Rudy. I want to check back at Steve’s. Maybe we missed each other somehow.”
Rudy leaned over and kissed Jaime’s cheek. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything.”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
Cargo Bay 7 of the starship Enterprise was at least as big as the cargo area of the new Space Shuttle Enterprise that Steve had been helping test. This cargo bay was a lot more streamlined however, and there was a lot of cargo that the space shuttles would not be likely to carry in their holds. Foodstuff, tools, medical supplies… all the practicalities of a military vessel at sea. In a way, Steve surmised, the metaphor was more than apt. This was, after all, a military vessel from the future. The daily needs of such a ship would not be that different from an aircraft carrier or a submarine on a long tour of duty.
Steve only allowed himself a moment or two to ponder the possibilities. The urgency of his “mission” was to great to indulge in a poetic emersion into the details of his current circumstance. As instructed, Steve performed a brief combination of winks of his left eye to activate the newly modified infra red settings. As hoped, Steve rapidly scanned the cluttered cargo bay and located the power cell from Spock’s communicator. It was on the floor at the far end of the room, surrounded by a ring of large cargo containers. To Steve, the indication looked a bit like a glowing gold orb, pulsing like a distant star. There was no way to retrieve the object unless Steve scaled the stacks of containers surrounding the device.
With a deep breath and a forceful lunge, Steve Austin propelled himself nearly four meters into the air and over the wall of cargo containers, landing deftly next to the communicator. He then picked it up, flipped it open and addressed the Vulcan. “Major Tom to Ground Control, objective reached.”
Back on the bridge, the Vulcan remained stoic, while several members of the bridge crew smiled. “Congratulations, Colonel. Have Mr. Scott escort you to the transporter room. I will join you there directly.” Spock closed the communications channel and rose from the command chair, headed for the turbo lift. As the lift doors swished open, he said, “You have the Con, Mr. Sulu.”
The doors closed as Sulu said, “Aye, Sir,” then Chekov leaned over to his colleague.
“Pink Floyd?” Chekov queried.
Sulu shook his head as he relinquished his post to his replacement to take his position in the Captain’s chair. “No, I think it was Elton John.”
“Ahh,” Chekov shrugged, “I get all those classical composers mixed up.”
Uhura rose from the communications station to present Sulu with a report to sign. With a wry smile, she remarked, “You’re both wrong, gentlemen. It was David Bowie.”
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
As the doors to the transporter room swished open, Spock looked at Scotty. “Time before missile launch?”
Scotty checked his data screen. “52 minutes, 33 seconds, Mr. Spock.”
“We do not have much time.” Spock looked towards the transporter platform. Both Colonel Steve Austin and Lt. Jimmy Austin were standing on pads, ready to go. Spock addressed the junior officer. “Lieutenant, you have not been assigned to this landing party.”
The lieutenant looked up at the First Officer. “Request permission to accompany the landing party, Sir.”
“Request denied, Lieutenant. Return to your duty station.”
“But, Sir…”
“That was an order, Lieutenant. This is an incredibly risky mission, and the more people we have beaming down with us exacerbates the possibility of irreparable contamination to the timeline. Your eagerness is noted and commendable, but at this time, your place is on the Enterprise.”
Grudgingly, the great-great-great-great grandson of Colonel Steve Austin accepted the logic of Spock’s statement. As he was about to leave the platform, Steve patted him on the shoulder, saying, “Don’t worry, Airman, I’ll bring you back a souvenir.” The lieutenant smiled and looked much happier as he passed Spock.
“Mr. Scott, I trust you have the coordinates I supplied to you from the bridge?”
“Aye, Sir,” replied Scotty with a nod.
Spock turned to Steve. “I feel I should advise you that this mission is still on a purely voluntary basis. If you have any reluctance to proceed, now is the time to voice your consternation, Colonel.”
“What, and let you have all the fun?” Steve smiled, and cocked an eyebrow, suddenly finding it amusing that he and Spock not only shared this trait, but with the same eyebrow. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Very well, Colonel. Mr. Scott, energize!”
TO BE CONTINUED...
