As Leonard joined the rest of the senior command team, he couldn’t help but shake his head at the irony of the location for their emergency briefing. Someone had put the Ready Room back to rights after his confrontation with Spock; yet it was only natural that being at the scene of the crime, so to speak, made everyone feel uneasy. Of course, Leonard didn’t attribute his uneasiness to a bad memory at all. He was far more concerned about the subject matter of the briefing.

The Enterprise was still out of range of Tassos III but when the time came to establish orbit, they had to be ready with a plan. Spock, who was once again in charge of the Enterprise, could choose a course of action without input from anyone; yet to date, he had given no indication that such was his style of command. Leonard had surmised that the Vulcan preferred to have separate opinions to weigh against his own. That wasn’t to say Leonard always agreed with Spock’s final decisions, but he respected a commander who valued the perspectives of others—even if the hobgoblin sometimes claimed those perspectives were too human.

“Ye look as glum as I feel,” Montgomery Scott remarked as he took a seat beside Leonard.

Across from them, a grave-looking Giotto sat down. Leonard purposefully avoided staring in that direction, for he felt foolish over his actions in the brig. The seriousness of the situation they faced now drove home the fact that his disobedience had borderlined immature and, honestly, Giotto should have kept him locked up for it.

Seated at the head of the table, Spock’s gaze touched upon each officer, lingering the longest on Leonard for some reason. Leonard made a point to avoid looking at Spock just as he did Giotto.

“What do we know about the colony?” Scotty said, opening up the discussion.

Spock turned to the ship’s Chief Engineer and ran through a list of facts that painted a picture of a quaint little farming community.

“Sounds antiquated,” Leonard muttered.

“I doubt so,” replied the Vulcan. “Tassos III was one of a dozen colonies designed for the sponsorship of a conglomerate wishing to invest in the agricultural industry. When the project was publicly announced, two prominent media outlets covered the inception of the starter colony—which happened to be Tassos III. The promotional headline, I believe, was to the effect that farming had been modernized with techniques which were highly technical and efficient, reducing the need for manual labor while increasing the yield. To date, eight of the twelve colonies have been established and appear to be functioning in accordance with the expected standards.”

“That explains why they’re along the Traders’ Beltway.”

“So it seems, Mr. Scott. Given that the colonies are positioned at key vantage points throughout the Alpha Quadrant, it would be logical to assume the intention was to optimize their availability to various mercantile groups. Gentlemen, please turn your attention to the viewer.”

A portion of the table lit up as Spock activated a computer program linked to the room’s projector. Everyone faced the far wall as Spock played a recording of the media coverage. The vid went on for nearly a minute before the Vulcan paused it on a scene which looked almost too idyllic to be real.

“Now that’s what I call greener pastures,” Leonard said sardonically. “I bet volunteers came out of the woodwork for the other colonies after this show aired.”

“Your assessment, however strange, Dr. McCoy, would not be inaccurate.”

Giotto wanted to know, “How long before Tassos III saw a profit of the magnitude required by their contract?”

Spock steepled his index fingers, a sign that the vein of inquiry appealed to him. “Approximately two years.”

Scotty whistled. “On a tiny planet like that? That’s nearly unheard of.”

Giotto seemed intent on figuring something out as he pressed, “Are they still indebted to the sponsor?”

“Privacy laws prohibit access to that information.”

“If they’re still sponsored, that certainly complicates things.” Leonard rubbed his finger along his bottom lip. “I’ve wondered all along why a ‘Fleet diplomat would be required to visit the Tassos star system. There’s no record of sentient life-forms beyond our own kind, and three of the six planets can’t sustain life. Sure, Tassos III is part of the Federation—has to be under law—but since when did Starfleet involve themselves in free enterprise?” He allowed for a significant pause before offering a guess. “Unless they have a stake in the bigger picture—say, for instance, the sponsorship itself.”

“I entertained similar thoughts,” Spock said. “It is well-known that Starfleet does hold interest in industries which are paramount to the operation of its services.”

“Dilithium,” pointed out Scotty. “Cannae run our starships without ’em.”

“Precisely, Mr. Scott.”

But the engineer shook his head. “Tassos III does not mine dilithum crystals, sir.”

“That doesn’t preclude the possibility of us drafting an arrangement with the parent company to distribute what they’re producing. What if Leta was sent there to facilitate new trade?” Leonard added pointedly, “It’s not like our ships haven’t ferried commercial products before.”

Giotto developed a severe frown. “Starfleet is a peace-keeping and exploratory operation, Dr. McCoy. We only make supply runs in critical situations.”

Spock interceded calmly before Leonard could fire back his retort. “Both points are salient. However, let us focus on facts.”

Leonard folded his arms across his chest, his expression growing grimmer. “The most important fact is that we can’t reach our captain.”

Staring at him, Spock said, “I am open to suggestions.”

Leonard definitely had one. “Treat it as a hostage situation.”

The Vulcan lifted one eyebrow slightly. “By what reasoning?”

Leonard couldn’t very well claim, Because my gut says so. Not with Spock.

Giotto lent his voice in lieu of McCoy’s. “Starfleet left us in the dark about Leta’s assignment to Tassos III. Given that, we have no choice but to assume the environment could become hostile.” He looked at all of them. “If our four years of serving together on this ship has taught us anything, it’s to watch our backs—and Kirk’s.”

Spock’s tone belied the calculating look in his eyes. “I cannot condone an aggressive approach until I am certain of the threat, but I will concede that the possibility exists. Mr. Giotto, make the arrangements for the landing party. I will be among those visiting the surface.”

Leonard sat forward. “I’m going too.”

Scotty huffed. “Shouldn’t someone stay behind to watch the ship?”

The three officers looked at him.

“Aye, all right. Always left behind,” the man muttered as he pushed to his feet. “But you three… the Capt’n could be in trouble, and I understand why you’re anxious. So am I, but I can’t forget that one of my lads is missing too. And two of yours,” he added, leveling his gaze on the Chief Security Officer.

Leonard touched Scotty’s arm. “Of course, Scotty. Every life matters.”

“No one will be left behind,” Giotto promised.

“Thank you for saying so,” the engineer said. “Well… you know where I’ll be. Mr. Spock, as soon as we can use the long-range scanner, ye will have my report.”

Spock replied solemnly, “Thank you, Mr. Scott. Dismissed. You as well, Mr. Giotto.”

Scotty nodded and exited the Ready Room, Giotto following silently behind him.

Once he and Spock were alone, Leonard’s shoulders drooped of their own accord. “What are the odds that scanner tells us Jim is alive?”

“If the signal is not blocked or diverted, it should be possible to read the surface.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said more quietly.

Spock’s gaze fixed on the frozen image of Tassos III. His tone gentled. “I am not certain it is wise for you to join the landing party, Dr. McCoy.”

Leonard finally looked at the Vulcan. “It’d be worse if I stayed behind.”

“Starfleet regulation states that no family member or significant other of a missing crewman should be involved directly in his recovery mission.”

The doctor blanched. “Spock… I have to go with you. Jim is my captain too!”

“He is also your lover.”

“Do you want me to beg?”

An unusual emotion darkened the Vulcan’s eyes. “Negative,” he said as he stood up abruptly. His speech was clipped. “You have precisely twenty-eight minutes to choose between your personal attachment and your duty as this ship’s senior medical officer. If you find that you cannot conduct yourself accordingly… keep in mind, this mission will not wait for you.”

“Spock,” Leonard said, shocked.

“We will reconvene at the transporter room at seventeen-hundred hours.”

Leonard watched the commander’s back until the door to the Ready Room closed. “Damn,” he muttered. Spock was upset with him again.

But what had he done this time?

Lt. Olivares must have been watching the archway, for she called out to Jim the moment he appeared in the main hall. The man next to her, none other than Tappan, turned around at the same time and said in the tone of a man who had been caught in an embarrassing situation, “Ah, Captain Kirk! I was just having a chat with the lovely—that is, with Miss Olivares.”

So, Blanca’s flirting had been a success. Jim wondered if Starfleet would let him give her a commendation for that. Perhaps not. He would have to use some phrase like “displayed an exemplary skill set while on a priority mission” in order to expedite the paperwork. No matter. Not even Spock questioned Jim’s choices when he wanted to hand out merits to his crew.

Jim adopted a benign smile as he approached the pair. “Mr. Tappan, no need to stand on ceremony with me. Call me Jim.”

Tappan looked pleased. “Then I must insist you call me Augustus.”

They began a slow amble towards the opposite end of the hall.

“Augustus,” Jim said, trying out the name, “I’m very impressed with Tassos III. Your colony is clearly thriving.”

“It’s not my colony, but I do thank you on behalf of the people who care for it.” Tappan nodded in passing to a young man and young woman who were sorting items into various colored baskets. “My purpose here is to oversee the work of the farmers. Yes,” he reiterated, smiling, “an overseer. That is the perfect term.”

“I see,” Jim replied, although he was not certain he did understand. “Did you accompany the original settlement party?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Jim grew more confused and admitted so. “I am not sure I understand what you mean. If you consider yourself separate from the locals, then who are you?”

“To put it simply,” the man answered, linking his hands across his stomach, “I am a company man.”

“Company,” Jim repeated. Then the meaning dawned on him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I had forgotten. This is colony started out under contract. But isn’t Tassos III independent now? Ten years is usually more than enough time to fulfill the stipulations of a settlement contract.”

“We are very close to the day of our independence. There is but one matter left to sort out.”

“I wish you good luck,” Jim replied, meaning it.

Tappan looked at him oddly, then, as if Jim had told him a joke. “How it pleases me to hear you say that, Jim.”

“Hey!” The man who came bounding into the hall was a face Jim recognized immediately.

Tappan stopped walking, as Jim did. Behind them, Olivares halted as well; she moved so quietly, it was as though she wasn’t there.

For the first time, Tappan’s friendliness disappeared. “Ramses, you promised me you would work in the field today.”

“And miss the excitement?” said the ever-grinning Ramses. He looked at Jim. “Fat chance in hell!”

Tappan grew red in the face. “Mind your language, boy! A vulgar tongue makes for a—”

“—vulgar man,” Ram finished, his grin turning impish. “I bet Captain Kirk never curses.”

Jim suppressed a smile and turned to Tappan. “He must be your son. I see the resemblance.”

Tappan drew in a long breath and released it all at once, as though there were a great many things he wished to say about the impudent youth in front of them. “Yes, this young man is my son.”

“I sense an ‘unfortunately’ in there, Dad.”

“Ramses, I am with guests. Go terrorize someone else for the time being.”

Ram gave his father a sloppy salute and a “Yes, sir, Gov’nor, sir!” Then the long-legged fellow bounded the rest of the way across the hall, calling out to one of the people at the table.

Tappan muttered something under his breath, took a hard grip on Jim’s arm, and steered him quickly out of earshot of the bawdy joke that Ram had launched into.

“He has spunk,” Jim remarked as their small group stepped out into the fresh air.

“Too much,” complained Ramses’ father.

Jim did smile, then. “All young men do at that age.” He turned to face Tappan and made a subtle gesture that beckoned Olivares over to his side. “I want to thank you for your hospitality this afternoon,” he said with more formality. “Regretfully, there has been a change in plans—”

“I doubt that,” the man interrupted him, gaze shifting to focus beyond Kirk’s shoulder. “Mr. Longwell, Mr. Greene, there you are. Come here.”

The two men who strode across the grounds at Tappan’s behest screamed red alert to Jim. He noticed that Olivares reacted as well, changing her position so that she was slightly ahead of him.

Both men ignored Tappan’s guests.

“Did you finish your assignments?” Tappan asked them.

“Sure, Governor,” the taller one said.

“Got these too,” replied the other as he tossed an object into Tappan’s hands.

It took Jim a second too long to recognize what that object was. When he did, his stomach plummeted.

“Hm,” murmured Tappan, turning the phaser over in his hands.

“You—” Jim started, then stopped when Tappan nonchalantly took aim at him.

Olivares whipped out her phaser in an instant and trained it on Tappan. In turn, Longwell and Greene each drew a phaser and pointed them at her.

“You,” Jim began again, his fury building up like a thundercloud. The colonists couldn’t have ‘Fleet-issued phasers unless they had stolen them off his men. “You had better explain yourself, mister!”

“Captain,” Tappan said, “you are understandably upset, but I don’t think you are in any position to berate me. If it may be of some consolation to you, I will tell you that your crew is alive.”

“Mostly,” amended one of the other men with a laugh. “Took us a while to figure the right setting on these things.”

Jim lost his reason. But as he flung himself forward to wrestle with the bastard who laughed at the thought of having killed one of his crewmen, Blanca blocked his path with her body and said sharply, “Captain, no!”

He froze only because the second man warned him, “Stop right there or I’ll shoot the bitch!”

Olivares cursed.

Jim cursed too. He was in a standoff without the upper hand.

“Oh dear,” Tappan said, “this is delightful.”

At the sound of shouting, others had come out of the hall, from the fields, the smaller residential domes. Some of them stayed back; some came close enough to be within an arm’s reach. Jim looked at the faces surrounding him and had the sick realization that none of them intended to stop Tappan.

A voice rose in alarm. The person who pushed through the crowded courtyard was the Ambassador. Leta paled as soon as she saw Kirk.

“Augustus!” she said, rounding on the man in question, “it can’t be done this way!”

“Karen, please, no histrionics. Why don’t you go back inside?”

“He’s Starfleet, Augustus! You can’t just—”

“I can,” the man snapped back, shocking the woman into silence. “You have two choices in this moment, Karen: return inside under your own power or insensate, over the shoulder of one of my men.”

Leta closed her mouth and straightened her back. But when she looked at Kirk, she didn’t say anything. With deadly silence, she turned on her heel and left. Jim didn’t fail to notice the person who broke away from the crowd to follow Leta was Tappan’s son, Ram.

He fixed his furious gaze on the man he now knew was truly his enemy. “It’s not too late,” he said. “Lower your weapons. Whatever situation has made you think you have to do this, I promise you we can resolve it some other way.”

“Oh, it is far, far too late for negotiation, Jim,” came Tappan’s reply. “Stun them.”

Aware of the person following her, Karen went to a window that overlooked the courtyard. Kirk and his security guard had folded to the ground. Tappan was directing his men where to move their bodies.

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

The voice barely registered. She couldn’t turn from the window. She had breached a point of no return by her inaction. Whether she ended up in prison or living in wealth as Augustus promised, either way she would be freed of her career.

“Why didn’t you stop him?“

The question finally touched her. She looked in the glass at a reflection. Her eyes burned.

His eyes burned too but in a different way. He hated her. Of course he did—because she loved his father.

“Ram,” she said, “I’m sorry.” Every time she came back, she found herself apologizing to him.

His fists flexed, relaxed, flexed again. “Whatever,” Ram said diffidently. “Maybe you should apologize to Captain Kirk.”

“Do you think he would forgive me?”

No, his eyes said.

Karen returned her gaze to the world outside the window. The crowd was retreating. Her lover still stood at the center of it all, grinning like he used to in his youth. When was the last time she had seen him that happy? The smile he usually gave her nowadays was empty.

“You’re not listening,” Ram accused her.

The woman sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop that.”

“What else can I say to you?”

“Anything. How are you? What have you been doing for two years? Did you miss me?” He tossed out that last question with great bitterness.

Again, he was mocking her, letting her know how betrayed he felt. Sometimes Karen wished Ram would just say it, the words: I hate you.

She shivered, thinking. “Ram, I do have a question.” Even without looking at him, she sensed Ram grow still.

“What?” he asked, less angry, more hopeful.

“Do you regret living with your father?”

Silence lengthened between them, but eventually he answered her.

“I don’t know.”

“I wanted the best for you,” she said. “A home, stability. Not living as I do.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I swear it’s not.”

“Your career always came first.”

At last, Karen faced her son. “That’s why I gave you up. You couldn’t be happy. Tell me,” she pleaded, “that I made the right choice.”

But he wouldn’t. She hoped that didn’t mean that he couldn’t.

It was Ram who gave up first. He turned to leave, except he paused in the doorway as he had not in the past. He said, “I do know. I’ve never liked it here. With him. Now I know I would have liked living with you even less.” For the briefest moment, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Karen felt a tear slide down her cheek and wiped it away. Crying would make no difference now, not for him or her. “You mean that,” she said in a more neutral tone.

“You have to stop him, Mom,” was Ram’s only reply. Then he was gone.

The angry pounding in Jim’s head and the foul taste in his mouth were aftereffects of a disrupted nervous system. He had been stunned by a phaser enough times to be intimately familiar with the sensations. The nausea in his gut, however, was not an aftereffect; it was the result of knowing the body which lay along the wall covered by a green tarp was Garrison’s.

To Jim’s right, Kolarski was awake but unnervingly silent. Olivares, who had been tied to a post on the other side of the barn, hadn’t regained consciousness yet. Joran occasionally groaned. In the dim lighting, the man looked ghostly white. The energy of the blast with which he had been hit must have been only slightly less than the amount required to kill him.

Jim twisted his bonds for the umpteenth time, felt the bite of plastic in his flesh. They had bound his wrists so tightly that not even dislocating his thumb would help him free himself.

“Kolarski,” he said, “can you talk? Are you all right?”

“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant answered in a weak whisper.

“What happened?”

At first, Jim thought Kolarski had lost his voice again.

Then the young man said, “They were… waiting inside the shuttle, sir. I don’t know how they had gotten in.” He inhaled a tiny bit. “Joran and… Garrison were already down.”

Both of them flinched.

Kolarski hung his head, and his voice became so tiny, it was difficult to hear him. “…my fault… stupid to open the door.“

“The responsibility is mine,” Jim said, his words heavy with guilt. “It’s not your fault, Andrew.”

Kolarski made a snuffling noise and raised his head. “It’s not your fault either, Captain.”

Jim just sighed.

“C-Capt’n?”

Jim jerked his head around, squinted in an attempt to better see Olivares’ face. “Blanca?”

“Ugh,” muttered the woman as her chin came off her chest. “I feel worse than that time I got drunk when we took shore leave on Risa.”

“Some details should remain private, Lieutenant,” Jim said at the same time Kolarski wanted to know, “Wait, we get shore leave on Risa?”

“When you’re older, Andy,” Olivares remarked, looking around. She squirmed for a minute, then said, “They’ve used a polymer tie for the binding. Feels like super-grade. Don’t try to break it. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

“Is there any way to cut it?” Jim asked. No point in mentioning that he’d already tried and failed; he’d just embarrass himself. He felt his officer’s gaze find him.

“No, sir. Mr. Giotto did teach us a trick… but this damn pole is in the way. I’m sorry, Captain.”

Jim said, “Don’t be. I’m going to need everything you know to help us get out of this situation.”

“Understood.” Olivares’ tone suddenly filled with tension. “…Joran? Where’s Garrison?”

Kolarski snuffled again.

Jim understood why Blanca fell silent after that. To her, Lt. Garrison was not just a fellow officer; he had been her brother-in-arms, likely a friend.

She finally whispered something, an apology or a prayer. Only the semi-darkness gave her a moment of privacy to grieve.

Jim transferred his focus back to Kolarski. “Andrew, is there anything else that you remember? Were Tappan’s men doing anything out of the ordinary?”

“I don’t know, sir. It all happened too fast. I saw… ” The lieutenant’s tone of voice changed from uncertain to questioning. “I saw equipment? Yeah, one of the supply boxes, overturned.”

Had Tappan’s men been snooping? Stealing? Simply damaging their shuttle?

Jim wished he knew.

“We missed the check-in,” Blanca pointed out. “The Enterprise will be on her way.”

Now that he did know. Unfortunately it was his gut which argued that a simple rescue wasn’t going to work. Tappan—as well as Leta—knew a starship of people who would come looking for their captain in due time. What did that mean, then?

“Sir?”

Jim realized Olivares had been talking to him.

“Forgive me, Lieutenant. What did you say?”

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you? It’s a trap.”

“Yes,” he confessed, “it does seem that way. But a trap for whom, exactly?”

The lieutenants did not have an answer for him.

Leonard alternated between nervously fidgeting with his medical tricorder and gripping the edge of the transporter console. Giotto had recently brought in a team of four security officers. Spock had yet to show up.

He wanted to be down on that colony, but he also wanted to hear the results from analyzing the surface. The long-range scanner hadn’t detected any useful information, which could have meant anything from space debris blocking their frequency to sabotage to there not being any life signs to detect.

But this crew was, above all things, stubborn. He knew the men and women on the Bridge were throwing everything they could at the surface short of actual torpedoes to see what they could find out.

Only, what in blazes was taking so long!

The door leading to the corridor slid open and a familiar figure came through it. Leonard hurried toward him.

“What’s the hold up?” he demanded.

Spock gave him an unimpressed stare, then looked past him to Giotto. “Is the team adequately prepared?”

“Yes, Mr. Spock.”

“Then let us proceed.”

Security arranged themselves on the platform.

Leonard ground his teeth and followed Spock to the transporter console. “Don’t ignore me,” he said. “I’m here, and I’m willing to take orders.”

“I am not ignoring you, Dr. McCoy. At present I have no information to offer you.”

“Then say you don’t know!”

Spock’s look would have withered the courage of a lesser man. “Doctor, your agitation is hardly helpful.”

Leonard banged his tricorder on the top of the console like a judge’s gavel, causing both techs at the controls to jump in the air.

“Listen here, you green-blooded devil!” he snarled, his accent thickening. “Agitation ain’t half of what I’m feelin’ right now! So unless you want to be put over my knee and spanked for your bad attitude, act your age, damn it!”

Everybody in the room gawked at him with the exception of Giotto, who just looked startled, and Spock, whose ears turned very, very green.

“Doctor, that—is—” Spock started and stopped. “—illogical.”

Leonard would have gladly strangled the Vulcan had Scotty not contacted them from the Bridge just then.

“Bridge to Transporter Three. Mr. Spock, we found something!”

“Is it Jim? Did you find Jim?” Leonard asked, hurrying around the console to muscle Spock out of the way. In failing to do so, for the damn Vulcan would not be budged, he settled for hanging over Spock to be certain he could hear the reply. “If you nerve pinch me,” he hissed when Spock lifted a hand, “you will regret it.”

Spock turned his attention back to the comm. “Mr. Scott, report.”

“The scanners cannae pick up any bio-signatures—”

Leonard’s heart clenched.

“—but Uhura did detect a wee hint of scrambler, sir, which might be throwing off our scans.”

“Can she decode it?”

“She’s working on it now. We think once we untangle the frequency, we should also be able to reach one of their communicators.”

Leonard pressed his teeth into his bottom lip. “That means once we’re down there, we will find ourselves unable to contact the ship too.”

“A risk we must take,” Spock determined. “Mr. Scott, you have the conn. The mission will continue as planned.”

Leonard followed on the Vulcan to the platform and took a position beside him. For the first time in his life, he didn’t think of complaining about having his molecules scattered to the solar winds. He held on tightly to his tricorder and medkit.

“Spock,” he started to apologize, “what I said—”

“Forgiven,” the Vulcan answered immediately, “and—” He hesitated, then, which was unusual for him. “—forgotten, if possible.”

Despite his anxiety, Leonard enjoyed a moment of amusement. “No one in this room is likely to forget that I threatened to spank my superior.”

Spock made a pained sound.

He added a bit wickedly, “Let’s just hope they have the decency not to gossip about it.”

“Energize,” Spock called to the transporter techs, clearly seeing some appeal in the ability to disappear.

Jim expected Tappan would come by to gloat and he was not disappointed.

“Well, well, Jim…”

“It’s Captain,” Jim said.

“I suppose I did lose that privilege,” Tappan commented with a nod. “Captain, you are in quite a bind, no pun intended.”

“Good because I’m not in a joking mood. What are you after, Tappan?”

Tappan made a motion to a companion. It was Walken.

Walken stepped forward and curled his upper lip at Kirk. “What should I do to him, Gov’nor?”

“Nothing as dramatic as you’re imagining, Thomas. Captain Kirk and I need to have a private conversation. Bring him along.”

“Try to get away,” Walken warned Jim as he crouched down to remove the ties around Kirk’s feet and wrists, “and I’ll have my excuse to take care of you.”

Jim didn’t have any intention of getting away, not when it meant abandoning his own crew.

Olivares gave him a solemn nod that meant she wouldn’t provoke their captors in the meantime. He hadn’t asked her to look after Kolarski and Joran, but he knew she would anyway.

He stayed pliant and cooperative as Walken marched him through a side door of the barn. The room beyond the door had the faint odor of mildew and a moisture in the air that was odd. The colony had state-of-the-art storage and processing facilities. Why did it smell as if their crops might actually be rotting?

Instead of shoving him into the chair in the middle of the room, Walken planted his boot in Kirk’s back and sent him sprawling across the ground. Jim stayed down on instinct. Let them think he was afraid. He had dealt with bullies before (and worse than bullies).

He looked up at Tappan. “Never judge a book by its cover.”

Tappan narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

“You’re a thug.”

Tappan laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Bait me all you want, Captain. We both know who holds the power.”

Jim sat up and brushed off his tunic sleeves. “Tell me,” he asked Tappan’s henchman, “why do you honor this man with the title of Governor? Shouldn’t that imply he has the authority to govern you?” Jim smirked. “Which, I know for a fact, Augustus Tappan does not.”

Tappan reached for him, furious.

It was Walken who stopped the man, who recognized what Jim was doing. He kicked Jim squarely in the chest and then pressed the side of Jim’s face against the floor.

Jim gritted his teeth.

Tappan’s boots came into view. “What happens next is very simple, my dear Kirk.” The man laid a hand against the side of Jim’s neck as if comforting a frightened animal. “You will give the order to destroy Tassos III.”

Jim would have laughed if he could. This man had no idea who Jim was or what he was willing to die for—and die he would before he ever issued a command to kill thousands. Just the thought turned his stomach and brought back ugly, painful memories. The smell of decay wasn’t helping.

He drew in a sharp breath and grunted, “You’re… insane.”

That accusation amused Tappan for some reason. “On the contrary, I am a visionary. If this colony is to be reborn, it must first die.”

Jim knew then he had discovered something much worse than a colony of anarchists. Tappan wanted to be the next Kodos.

That realization, not Walken bearing a full-grown man’s weight down on his head, was what made James Kirk scream.

I feel that I should offer a warning of sorts. Things have to get worse before they can get better. If you don’t like your Kirk in pain – emotional or physical – this may not be the story for you. Expect some Kirk!whumpage (but with a PG-13 rating).