Chapter 4: Gambling on Percentages

The silence that descended on the bridge at the knowledge that they had just lost their warp capability was palpable. Did they have no choice except to push their way out through brute force? And with the enemy seemingly able to evade detection, were there not others waiting in the wings, ready swoop down at the slightest sign of weakness like hungry predatory sharks?

Spock could calculate the probability of survival without warp capability. The longer they existed without it in a fight that dragged on, the greater their disadvantage. With his uninjured hand, he punched a line to Engineering.

Scotty's heavily accented voice breathlessly acknowledged Spock's greeting. "Commander, she cannae take another hit like that! It's bad enough that the plasma transfer conduits are gone but we'll be in worse trouble if you cannae stop them from blowing our warp core to bits!"

Spock had only one question for the Scotsman on the other side of the line. "Mr. Scott, can you or can you not restore our warp capability?"

"Do you know what you're asking of me, laddie? That's delicate work right there. Not something ya are supposed ta be doing on the fly! But knowing ya, ya'll still want me to do it." Scotty grunted over the line. In the background, Spock could hear his heavy footfalls thudding across the steel walkways that made up the engineering section. "It's like trying to connect a wooden bridge using super glue and then asking a tank to go over it!"

"If and, I mean if, this works ya get only one shot. Ya hear me! One shot! If ya miss it or for any reason the thing malfunctions while yer using it, I cannae temporarily reconnect it again with the stuff we got without risking blowing the warp core."

"What's the percentage probability that it will work, Mr. Scott?"

Scotty goes silent for a moment. "I dunno. Fifty-fifty maybe but I cannae be sure."

"A fifty percent probability will have to suffice. Do it. How long do you need to complete it?"

"Fifteen minutes at least. And we cannae get hit again. As it is, it'll be like handling a bomb in the midst of a boxing match. We'll all be done for if our core gets misaligned in the process."

"Then hurry Mr. Scott. I do not think we can hold longer than that."

At present, somewhere else on the Enterprise

Compared to the rest of the equipment in the room, the device in McCoy's hands was the equivalent of a prehistoric sledgehammer. But McCoy didn't have the time to look for a more sophisticated solution. He needed something that would achieve the results and fast. If any more of the bullet shards collapsed in Jim's system, the kid wouldn't be able to survive. And, despite the unwieldy nature of the instrument he was holding, it would be effective. Brutally so.

Why would it not be? Bullets were made of metal. And even a grade school student knew that a magnetic field, any magnetic field, would attract metal. The problem was that the path which the shards would take going out of the body were seldom the same as the path taken going in.

From the side of his vision McCoy saw Nurse Chapel motion to the other nurses in attendance. She knew as well as he did that the moment he flipped the switch they needed to be ready to handle anything. The probability that they would rupture something was high. But so was the probability that it would unless they did. It was damned if you do and damned if you don't.

One and a half hours ago

The most logical step would be to split up. They could not hope to cover enough ground to search for the jamming device. But with the injuries they had sustained, it was highly unfavorable. There was strength in numbers. Even the weak could hope to overpower the strong with enough bodies and subterfuge. But time was not on their side. Every minute, every second that they were unable to make contact with the Enterprise meant that Kirk was that much closer to death's door. It also meant that they were vulnerable to attack.

Spock knew the decision that had to be made. It wasn't so different from the various simulations they had the cadets regularly undergo during their training in the Academy. But he also knew that Kirk would not take it sitting down. He made his way to where he was propped against the side of the wall and in as low a tone as he could manage, said, "You need to stay here."

Kirk's brows furrowed. Thankfully when he did speak it was with the same low tones that Spock had used, albeit haltingly due to the pain lancing through his every word. "What...the hell...do you mean, Spock?"

"Do not lie to me Kirk. You know full well what I mean. As your First Officer, I am obligated to ensure my Captain's safety and survival. And you know as well as I do that you no longer have the stamina to continue without risking irreparable damage to yourself. It is only logical that you stay here to conserve what little you have left and let us instead find the device and disable it."

Kirk's eyes blazed in defiance for a second before he turned away.

Shuffling forward, Kirk took his position directly opposite the entrance to the chamber. Pressing his back against the wall, he pulled out his phaser. Just like the rest of the team, it was set on kill. Sulu took a position beside Kirk, phaser still trained on the Chancellor. With only the briefest of nods, they watched the rest of the team led by Spock head out, leaving them together with their hostage and the young dignitary they had been charged to find .

One and a half hours ago, on the Enterprise

The reports flooding in by the minute were anything but reassuring. Not a single line of communication could be made between the Enterprise and the away team. Transporter capability could not be reestablished from their position orbiting the planet. And to make matters worse, they could not get a feed from any of the body monitors that might otherwise have told them the physical state of those on the ground.

The only clue they had as to the events unfolding planet-side came from the environmental scanners. The scan indicated biological heat signatures concentrated in a single building in the capitol and in a rough circle around it. Outside of that pool, not a single living soul could be detected within a two-mile radius.

The silence on the bridge was palpable as the alternate science officer intoned the report. Alone, the scan would have been inconclusive. But together with their lack of communications and transporter capabilities this led to only one plausible conclusion: an ambush. Unfortunately, though they could plausibly guess what was happening, they could do nothing. Right?

Chekov clenched his fists. There had to be something. He refused to accept the alternative. He was the youngest navigator of any starship. What good were his smarts if he couldn't use it to help his Captain, his Commander, and his crew mates?

In his mind, he ran through every single number, every single fact that the constant stream of reports were spitting out. His thoughts reached out to the information that was shared to them during the mission briefing. He may not have a Vulcan's eidetic memory but he had faith in his ability to recall details. They hadn't failed him during his days in the Academy and even before then. They would not fail him now.

There, amongst all the disparate pieces of data, he found it. It was slim but unless the team on the ground were somehow able to disable whatever device was issuing the jamming signals this might be their only chance.

If Chekov was right with his math, and he almost always was, the Captain and Commander had to survive for an hour and a half until something that rarely every happened in Junna could give them just the opening they needed in order to disrupt the signals.

Rain.

At present

Scotty hated it when the ship, his fair lady, was injured. It had to be a crime somewhere in the universe to damage such a beautiful ship. And here he was about to do the equivalent of applying a band-aid to something that ought to be brought to surgery.

Talk about playing with dynamite. This was worse than ejecting the warp core and detonating it like what they did after they sank the Narada. The potential for catastrophe was greater with the course of action that they were about to take. In the former, at least the blast would happen outside of the Enterprise. Here, if things went sour, the resulting blast would not only blow a hole the size of a football field through the hull of the starship but it could potentially crack the housing of the warp core, bathing the entire engineering deck with radiation and irreparably damaging their ability to power the ship. But no matter what misgivings Scotty may have, fact was that they had little choice.

The countdown on his wristwatch indicated he had only thirteen minutes left.