Purgatory's Key

by Dayton Ward

Kirk let him finish before thumbing the companel’s switch. “Kirk here. What happened, Spock?”

  “Mister Scott reports continued problems with the warp drive, sir.” As always, the Vulcan’s speech and tone were formal as he conveyed information. “He has also reiterated his advisory with respect to other damaged systems. Repairs in those areas will be delayed while he addresses the warp engines.”

  Releasing a sigh, Kirk reached up to rub the bridge of his nose. It had been less than twelve hours since the Enterprise had taken a pounding at the hands of a Romulan warship, and Commander Scott and his team of engineers had spent almost every minute since then attempting to heal the starship’s various wounds. First and foremost, the Enterprise’s warp drive had suffered thanks to the protracted battle, along with the ship’s deflector shield generators and a host of other, smaller yet still important systems that had experienced overloads and burnouts thanks to the Romulan vessel’s disruptor weapons. Even a gifted magician like Montgomery Scott had found himself hard-pressed to accomplish all of the needed repairs.

  “What’s our present position?” asked Kirk.

  Spock replied, “We are still traveling at full impulse power, maintaining course for the Libros system.”

  Sensing what was coming, Kirk said, “You can spare me the calculations for how long it’ll take us to reach Usilde at our present speed.”

  “Very well.”

  There was a pause, and Kirk imagined he could see his first officer standing at his station on the Enterprise bridge, his right eyebrow cocked as he pondered being denied a chance to offer up his computation in exacting detail. The silence stretched to the point that Kirk began to regret his attempt at levity. While his friend was willing on most occasions to play along with his captain’s very human tendency toward jocularity, the stresses of recent events certainly must be weighing on him. Worrying about his father, Sarek, and his former shipmate Captain Una—who both remained trapped in the mysterious parallel universe that connected to their own thanks to a wondrous technology discovered on the planet Usilde—had to be wearing on the Vulcan, though no one but his closest friends would even notice the strain. Spock, as always, carried himself with an all but unflappable composure, but Kirk had known him long enough to see tiny cracks forming in his friend’s armor.

  “I’m sorry, Spock. I was only trying to . . . I’m sorry.”

  “The effort is neither unnoticed nor unappreciated, sir.” Such a response, Kirk knew, carried a risk of being perceived as overly emotional and perhaps even a concession to his human half. That the first officer had offered it was an indicator of the emotional strain he was experiencing, regardless of his Vulcan control. “Shall I have Mister Scott contact you with a revised repair estimate?”

  “No. I think I’ll go down to engineering and get a look for myself.”

  “Acknowledged. Spock out.”

  Severing the communication, Kirk sighed again. The thought of sitting on the bridge staring at distant stars as the Enterprise limped through the interstellar void held no appeal for him. Likewise, he had had no interest in waiting for updated repair estimates, and he had no intention of trapping himself behind his desk and dealing with reports or the other administrative debris that came with being a starship captain. Besides, if he did that, then he would be forced to answer what he imagined were several communiqués from Starfleet Command wanting to know just what the hell he thought he was doing. After all, he had set the Enterprise on course for the Libros system from Centaurus without first receiving authorization. He had acted within regulations, notifying his superiors of his intentions and taking advantage of the discretion and latitude Starfleet granted its ship commanders with respect to any number of decisions. Still, heading into a potential interstellar incident did not typically fall within those parameters.

  * * *

  Main engineering was chaos.

  Standing in the open doorway leading into the spacious chamber that was the heart of his ship, Kirk surveyed the scene before him. Wall panels lay about the deck, along with tools and components or pieces of larger components. Men and women in Starfleet uniforms and jumpsuits were climbing ladders, crawling into access conduits, pulling the innards out of consoles, or simply sitting in the middle of the floor while working on some piece of equipment. Kirk could not remember ever seeing engineering in such a state of disorder.

  Montgomery Scott stood at the center of the maelstrom, guiding the efforts of all those around him. The chief engineer’s arms waved in different directions, pointing subordinates to this control panel or that access opening or to retrieve a particular tool. Behind him and beyond the protective grille separating the engine room’s main floor from the massive plasma conduits that fed energy to the starship’s warp nacelles, it was dark and lifeless. Normally the plant pulsed with restrained power, but now all was still, feeling to Kirk as though the ship had fallen into a state of deep slumber.

  “Damn,” he said, trying to take it all in.

  Noticing his captain’s presence, Scott offered one last instruction to a waiting junior engineer before stepping away from the bedlam unfolding around him and moved toward Kirk.

  “Captain, I didn’t know you’d be paying us a visit.”

  “My ship’s not working, Scotty,” replied Kirk as he stepped farther into the room.

  The engineer’s mouth tightened, and he nodded. “Aye, sir, it’s a bit of a mess at the moment, but we’re on top of it. I expect to have warp drive back within the hour.”

  Crossing the main work area, they walked past the large dual matter-antimatter integrators. Kirk noted that access panels had been removed from both of the oversized components and junior engineers were working in and around them. A pair of legs was visible on the deck near one of the integrators, their owner lying on his or her stomach and stretching to reach something inside the crawlspace. As the two men drew closer to the protective grille, Scott gestured toward the dark, inert plasma conduits.

  “It’ll require a cold restart, of course, and once that’s done, if you could go easy on the girl for a bit, I’d be grateful.”

  Kirk frowned. “I can’t promise anything, Scotty. I don’t know what we’re going to be up against once we reach Usilde. We can’t afford delays. The Klingons certainly aren’t waiting around. Every minute we’re out here, their people on Usilde are working to figure out the Jatohr citadel.”

  “Aye, I understand.” Scott looked about the cavernous room that was his realm. “I can’t say I’m happy with the current situation, sir. Some of the repairs we need are better suited to a starbase or even a dry dock.”

  “We have to play the cards we’re dealt.” Though perhaps not to the same exacting level of detail as his chief engineer, Kirk was still aware of the issues plaguing his ship. The skirmish with the Romulan vessel near Centaurus had been brief yet costly, as much from direct damage inflicted by the enemy ship as the evasive tactics he had been forced to employ. The list of damaged or compromised systems had been as long as it was varied, and it was in all honesty a true miracle that Montgomery Scott and his team of engineers had held the Enterprise together during the pitched battle. Now Kirk was asking Scott and his people to perform yet another miracle and heal the wounded starship before he was forced to take it once again into harm’s way.

  “Aside from the warp drive,” said Kirk, “what’s the status with the rest of the repairs?”’

  “I’ve got teams crawling through every Jefferies tube and maintenance shaft on the ship, sir. I’ve ordered my people to triple-check every system even if no damage was reported, just to be sure.” Scott reached up and wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve. “We’ll do everything we can to make her shipshape, Captain. We’ll need to put in to a starbase once all this is over.”

  “I promise. In the meantime, coordinate with Spock and pull people from wherever you can find them to pitch in and help.”

 
Scott forced a smile. “Already doing that, sir.” He gestured toward the center of the room and the hive of activity taking place around them. “Now, if you’ll pardon me, sir, I’d like to get back to it.”

  “Don’t let me keep you, Scotty.” Kirk eyed the room and the engineers. “Tell your people I appreciate their hard work.”

  “Aye, sir. That I will.”

  The engineer took his leave and returned to the numerous other demands on his attention, making his way toward one of his subordinates and the console on which the younger man was working. Kirk watched their exchange for a few more seconds before turning and heading for the exit, knowing the group of talented specialists would accomplish more if their captain chose not to hover over them.

  Get out of their way and let them get back to work.

  Three

  Black smoke swirled with tan sand and light dust, billowing toward her. The cloud towered above her, a murky curtain steadily shrouding the distinctive features of New Athens University. Students and faculty members walked about, on their way across the campus with its finely tended landscaping and structures of utilitarian design, seemingly oblivious to what was coming to engulf them.

  Amanda Grayson watched the oddly familiar cloud advance.

  Thickening tendrils loomed over her, extending from the drab cloud and blotting out the clear blue sky. Reaching out, Amanda plunged her bare hand into the cloud, staring as the dust wafted up her arm like an unwelcome glove, though she did not move. As the dense, undulating mass moved to envelop her, she saw none of its residue upon her, and neither did she feel grit against her flesh. Each breath came with no difficulty, and she let the cloud’s opacity overtake her.

  Then there was nothing but silence and diffuse brown light, and Amanda brought her outstretched arm to her side. Despite the fact that she stood within it, the cloud existed apart from her. She sensed nothing but the dim illumination around her. Then she closed her eyes, closing herself off even from that.

  My wife.

  Faint words, but hearing them shocked her enough to open her eyes. The cloud remained around her without physical effect. Amanda stood still, holding her breath and straining to hear the voice—or anything else—again. Had she imagined it? She took a step forward, perceiving the action on an intellectual level though nothing about her surroundings changed. The cloud’s presence swallowed any evidence of her movement. Another step forward offered no further clues.

  “Sarek?”

  My wife.

  A bit louder this time, just enough to convince Amanda that the voice was no wishful manufacture or trick of the wind. Those were words.

  His words.

  Hope flaring in her heart, Amanda stepped forward yet again, sensing herself flailing her arms though she realized now that neither they nor the rest of her body was visible. There was only the cloud. Her attempt to dissipate it or move beyond it was fruitless. Frustration mounting, Amanda willed her arms straight out in front of her and ran. She sensed her feet moving, with speed and grace across unseen ground, and she hurtled herself in a direction she had no way of determining.

  “Sarek! Where are you?”

  Gulping in deep breaths of air that was free of dust, Amanda ran. Had she strayed from her course, wherever it was the voice was leading her? Any attempt to turn or change direction was met with more of the unremitting cloud swirling around her.

  “Sarek! I’m here!”

  My wife.

  Helplessness and futility were overwhelming her, and Amanda dropped to the ground. Flogging the dirt beneath her hands, she cried. She drew a breath to scream—and caught herself before it left her lungs.

  “No,” she said. “I cannot lose control. Sarek will find me.”

  Pushing herself to a sitting position, Amanda rested on the ground, drawing her legs underneath her. She forced herself to slow her breathing and turn her mind inward, just as her husband had instructed uncounted times. Rather than struggling to interpret any distinguishing shapes in the light, she unfocused her gaze and her mind.

  And then she noticed it.

  All around her, the dull browns of dust were giving way to warmer shades of blue and violet, cutting through the drab light and its feeble attempts to pierce the cloud. There was a sensation of relief, but Amanda did her best to suppress the feeling. She maintained her inward awareness, refusing to let the omnipresent cloud overwhelm her. Slowly and uniformly, the cloud retreated from her as if she were newly encapsulated in an expanding dome of clarity. She first was able to see her whole body, then, as the cloud retreated from the space surrounding her body, she could see her full stride as she walked. While the ground offered no characteristics to confirm she was moving, Amanda grew in confidence that she now was gaining dominance over this state of being. She halted and let the dome expand from her even more, growing quickly to the size of a room, then a house, then a courtyard. It crept outward until at a distance it revealed a lone motionless figure clad in black robes. The figure raised one hand, beckoning to her. She gasped, sure of whom she had just seen.

  “Sarek!”

  * * *

  Amanda jerked herself awake, her breaths coming fast and shallow as she sat up in her bed. It took her a moment to recall that she was not in her bedroom in the home she shared with her husband on Vulcan. Instead of familiar furnishings, mementos, and other decorations, she saw plain gray bulkheads and the divider screen separating the sleeping area from the sitting room in her guest quarters. She placed a hand over her heart, feeling its rapid beats already beginning to slow, and she forced herself to regain control of her breathing.

  Reclining once more on the bed, Amanda closed her eyes and searched her memory for that last image she could recall from her vivid dream. The vision of Sarek, his dark robes contrasting against the drab cloud in which he stood, teased her, but she could not bring the image into full focus. On an intellectual level, she realized the dream was an involuntary mashing of random elements pulled from her subconscious, but her heart told her there was more here.

  Much more.

  She had not merely dreamed about her husband; she had sensed him, in that way only she could do, thanks to the unique, intimate bond they shared. Was Sarek alive? Had he somehow managed to reach across the odd barrier or void separating him from this universe, as Spock had explained? As quickly as the thoughts conjured themselves, Amanda felt doubt encroaching upon them. Perhaps she was suffering some odd side effect from the sedatives given to her by Doctor McCoy. She would have to speak with him.

  Giving up on the attempt to recall her dream imagery, Amanda rose from the bed and made her way from the sleeping area. Other than the steady thrum of the Enterprise’s powerful impulse engines, the room was silent, and for the first time, she began to regret the solitude she had requested.

  As though sensing her thoughts, her room’s door chime beeped for attention.

  “Come in,” Amanda called out, and the door slid aside to reveal Doctor Leonard McCoy. He was dressed in a less formal, short-sleeved version of the standard Starfleet tunic and had brought a tricorder with him.

  “Mrs. Sarek,” said the ship’s chief medical officer, by way of greeting.

  Offering a smile, Amanda replied, “Hello, Doctor. Is this a house call?” McCoy’s expression brightened, but only somewhat, and Amanda could sense that the doctor was putting on a polite front.

  “I thought I should stop by and see how you were feeling. Yammering into an intercom panel is a little impersonal for me. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  Amanda stepped back from the door, gesturing for McCoy to enter. “Not at all. I can’t sleep.”

  Stepping into the room, the doctor frowned. “Having trouble? I can prescribe something else.”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. In fact, I think I’ll be fine from now on without any extra help.” She motioned for him to take one of the chairs posi
tioned around a small table in her room’s sitting area. “I should probably get dressed, instead of lounging around in my pajamas,” she said, her other hand toying with the folds of her sleeping robe.

  McCoy’s grin widened as he moved to stand next to the proffered chair. “To be honest, when it comes to Vulcan fashion, I can’t tell the difference between a ceremonial robe and a bathrobe.” Then his expression changed. “That’s not to say you don’t look presentable, ma’am. Forgive my manners.”

  The comment made her chuckle. It was an indulgence she often declined at home, but did allow herself when in the company of her fellow humans.

  “If it’s any consolation, I can’t tell the difference most of the time either.”

  For the first time, McCoy seemed to set aside his forced facade and allowed himself a genuine laugh. After a moment, he said, “Wow, I needed that. Thank you, Lady Amanda.”

  “Please, just Amanda. I try not to stand on formality unless circumstances absolutely require it.” Realizing that McCoy’s gentlemanly nature would keep him standing until she took a seat, she moved to the chair opposite him and lowered herself into it.

  “Only if you call me Leonard,” replied the doctor. He sat in the chair opposite hers, placing the tricorder in his lap.

  Amanda nodded. “It’s a deal.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  She paused a moment to consider the question. Her cuts and abrasions had been treated and healed, and the fractured rib, arm, and leg she had suffered were now knit. There was no longer even residual pain from those injuries. The only remaining physical evidence of the wounds she had suffered during the furious Romulan attack at New Athens University were singed wisps of her silvery hair and a dull ache from the array of bruises she had endured. Even that was fading, and she had declined further medication for that discomfort.

  What did remain, however, were her memories.

  “I know that look,” said McCoy. “It’s pretty common with people who’ve been subjected to a traumatic experience like you saw on Centaurus.”