0Title: Holiday Revenge (10/12)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Pike/Archer, Kirk/McCoy
Summary: Sequel to Goodbye, Holidays. Events turn ugly, for Kirk’s enemy has found the perfect way to pay Kirk back for his meddling.
Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9
Part Nine was posted two days ago. Please read it first if you have not.
Part Ten
Jenkins arrives at the Sheriff’s Department about twenty minutes after he’s called in. This is the first Jonathan has seen him since learning of his betrayal, and he does his best to play it cool. But when the deputy greets him with a smiling hello, the simple greeting he means to give in return becomes stilted and gruff; perhaps Jenkins will think Jon is merely having one of his bad days. Luckily, Larry does a much job of acting natural, even going so far as to make a complaint about how terrible his life has been lately, and Jenkins nods agreeably to that because everyone knows Larry never has good days anymore.
Eventually Archer grows tired of staring at the paperwork on his desk that won’t complete itself, and so he begins to make the usual rounds throughout the station as if it is any normal work day. This allows him to catch their newest recruit playing Candy Crush instead of paying attention to the switchboard and the deputy usually teased for being baby-faced enough to look barely legal staring forlornly into a wallet containing only a five-dollar bill. The latter says sadly when Jon asks about that, “How am I going to buy the twenty-pack from McD’s?”
Knowing then exactly what the issue must be, Jon acknowledges the young man’s dejection kindly with “That would be a travesty, indeed,” and hands him ten dollars to supplement the five. “Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks, Sheriff!”
Jon smiles grimly and moves on, grateful he could contribute to at least one person’s happiness, however momentary.
Later, Larry shoves a requisition form into his empty hands with instructions to review and sign it, and leaves Jonathan to his private contemplation outside their break room. Eventually Jon becomes aware enough of his surroundings to realize that he has acquired a second shadow. He turns around and immediately ponders over two things: first, how is that Spock magically appeared inside the station without causing a stir among the deputies and, second, how long has the man has been standing behind him watching him surreptitiously watch Kirk chat on a cell phone at the other end of the hall?
He observes, “Mr. Spock, you have a knack for sneaking up on people.”
Spock raises both eyebrows. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
The man only tilts his head ever-so-slightly. “I see no reason why I should be insulted. My penchant for remaining undetected is in part due to your inability to take heed of your surroundings.”
Jon understands very well why Leonard McCoy feels an urge to punch Spock from time to time.
Spock’s gaze moves past Archer. “But perhaps it is understandable that you are distracted.”
Oh yes, Jon definitely understands. Spock thinks he’s a know-it-all. “Kirk does not distract me,” he retorts.
“Indeed? I find him very distracting.”
Jon can only stare in response.
Spock states matter-of-factly, “Though not in the manner one commonly assumes to be the case when interest is expressed in another individual. Jim is the first acquaintance to call me a friend. In time, I discovered his claim to be true. Is that not the perfect cause for distraction?”
“Well that’s… fascinating is what it is, but why are you telling me?”
“It has occurred to me that Jim might distract you for similar reasons.”
He laughs. “Not likely, Mr. Spock. Ask Kirk if he’s my friend, and then you’ll realize you are sadly mistaken.”
Spock remarks, “One does not need to be a friend in order to be family.”
Is Spock actually implying that he believes Jonathan has acquired a family?
Could it be true?
Jon doesn’t know what to say. Lucky for him, the arrival of McCoy provides an excuse to turn his attention elsewhere, because Leonard takes one look between Spock and the sheriff and is curious to know, “What are you talking about?”
“Distractions,” supplies Spock.
“Oh, you definitely qualify as one of those,” quips McCoy, who then shoves a paper cup into Spock’s hand. “Your water as requested, you annoying bastard.”
Jon coughs. It’s a good thing McCoy doesn’t interpret the meaning of distractions the way Spock does or otherwise he would regret labeling his nemesis as one.
“Don’t I get anything?” Jon inquires politely.
Leonard turns a clinical eye upon him. “Depends. You’re laying off the coffee?”
Jon draws his shoulders back. “Depends. Are you my keeper now?”
McCoy’s gaze sharpens even more. “If I have anything to say about it, I’ll be your family doctor. Somebody needs to make sure you survive.” Whatever sour mood riding the man seems to lessen all of a sudden, for he huffs and glances in the direction of his boyfriend. “Don’t know why I do this to myself. Jim’s already a full-time job.” Before Archer can question what Jim does or doesn’t have to do with Leonard watch-guarding over his health, Leonard adds dryly, “And the booze. Stay away from it.” He looks around. “I bet there’s a toxicology kit around here somewhere.”
“Should I assist you in the search?” offers Spock graciously.
Leonard eyes the tall, dark-haired man with skepticism. “You want to help me figure out if Archer’s still drinking?”
“I did agree to lend my assistance in all matters related to Jim’s well-being. The health of Sheriff Archer qualifies as such, does it not?”
McCoy sniffs but says without any real heat, “Yes, it does. Fine, let’s do this. For Jim.”
“Indeed.”
That’s when Jon realizes he may have inadvertently become an additional subject in the experiment between Spock and McCoy. The objective of determining how well they can work together may not be limited solely to Jim. The very thought terrifies Archer.
He hears one of them from a distance now as the pair proceeds past the break room: “While I’m at it, when’s the last time you had a good night’s sleep, Spock?”
The other insists, “I require little sleep to function.”
“What are you,” scoffs McCoy, “a space alien!”
“Please focus your energy elsewhere, Mr. McCoy, or this conversation will become quite cumbersome.”
“You’ll regret saying that, you ungrateful bonehead. One day you’ll want me to be your doctor!”
“That is an illogical assumption. Also, highly unlikely.”
“We’ll see,” counters McCoy, sounding far more certain than Spock.
Jon decides to make an escape because he doesn’t actually have a desire to let McCoy practice medicine on him out of boredom, concern, or otherwise. Just as he prepares to duck into the Evidence Room down the hallway, Uhura strides past him to Kirk, Jim hangs up his cell phone and they turn to him expectantly.
“Oh, Sheriff!” calls Nyota too sweetly.
Damn it, why is the Evidence Room on the other side of them?
Jon gives in, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets and approaching the pair with suspicion. “What do you want?”
Kirk turns his head left and right. “Have you seen Bones or Spock?”
Uhura rolls her eyes.
“I thought they were together,” Jim murmurs.
“Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde have gone off to raid one of my laboratories. Don’t ask why.”
Jim only says, “Oh.”
Uhura nudges Kirk with her elbow. “Scotty.”
“Oh,” Jim says more brightly. “Scotty’s in the yard working on the vehicles.”
“Scott, here? Right now?” Jon turns for the nearest window.
Uhura snags the back of his jacket with another roll of her eyes. “Don’t be so obvious. Unless you want everyone to notice him breaking into your squad cars.”
That would require too much explanation to his team. Jon would like to know, “Can this device of his really override any standard tracking equipment?”
Jim seems confident. “If Scotty says it can, then it can.”
So planting a bug in Jenkins’s spare uniform was the right call. “Good to hear,” Jon murmurs. Now that he thinks about, he had seen Jenkins stroll into the break room while he was talking to Spock and McCoy. “Excuse me.”
But Jim grabs Jon’s arm to stall his leave-taking, shaking his head in the negative. “We’ve got this covered.”
Jon’s eyebrows go up.
Kirk takes a moment to text someone on his cell phone.
A minute later, Spock and McCoy appear down the hall. Spock proceeds by the break room directly toward them but Leonard goes into it instead. He comes back out not long after, bearing an empty cup in his hand.
McCoy looks at Jim. “Mission accomplished.”
Seconds following this pronouncement, Deputy Jenkins bursts out of the break room with napkins held to his crotch and waddle-hops to the nearest men’s bathroom.
Jon grins, slapping McCoy proudly on the back. “Good work, Sourpatch!”
But Leonard is too busy eyeing his boyfriend to acknowledge the praise. “You know I don’t like making enemies of the police.”
“I know.” Jim reaches out, taking hold of McCoy’s hand briefly, squeezing the fingers. “Thanks, Bones.”
Spock suggests, “Since both the deputy and his vehicle will soon be adequately bugged, should we not move on to the next stage of our plan?”
“We should,” agrees Jon. He turns, whistles shrilly, then bellows, “MATTHEWS!”
In the distance, there comes a crash and a curse. Matthews hurries around the corner of the corridor leading to the bullpen, actively rubbing one of his shoulders.
“What did we tell you about leaning back in your chair, son?” Jon chastises mildly.
Matthews ignores him in lieu of staring at Kirk and the others. “What’s going on, Sheriff? Why are they all here?”
“Your assignment is with Deputy Jenkins for the day.”
“But it’s my turn for the monthly inventory count.”
Jim interjects, “This is more important—and you won’t be gone long. You’re going to have a bad case of—” He blinks and glances at Uhura, who smiles. “—cramps?”
“Extremely bad cramps,” Nyota informs the deputy sagely.
Matthews looks at them like they’ve all lost their minds.
Jon ducks his head to hide a grin as Jim turns expectantly at his boyfriend.
“Bones, can we give him cramps?”
“Stomach cramps, definitely,” McCoy declares. He pats a pants pocket. “Got a cocktail for that right here.”
“What?” squeaks the deputy, finally wise enough to start sliding backwards.
Jon comes to his rescue. “Maybe that’s overdoing it. Matthews can fake the cramps.”
Matthews realizes they are serious about this assignment. He chokes and says, “I’ll fake them.”
“Great!” Kirk beams. “We’ll arrange a signal so you know when to start.” He holds out a hand with sincere gratitude. “Thanks, man.”
Matthews shakes the proffered hand, looking a little dazed. Jon pats his deputy’s back, adding the gentle reminder, “Collect your gear, son. It’s going to be an interesting day,” and pushes him in the direction of the locker room.
“So,” Nyota wants to know, looking around the corridor with renewed interest, “who’s our next victim?”
“Hey, Sheriff.” Jenkins approaches Archer while tucking in his shirt into a new pair of uniform pants. “Larry said all hands on deck. What’s going on?”
“You’ll find out in a minute,” Jon replies, waving him toward the half-circle of other deputies already inside the conference room.
Once Larry slips into the back of the room, Jon shuts the door and gives his men a long stare until a few of them fidget under the scrutiny.
“It’s our lucky day, gentlemen. Most of you know Jim Kirk has come in, and probably all of you know by now that his father is the detective from the county over who went missing very recently. Jim’s here because he believes his case is linked to his father’s case—and there’s some evidence to attest to that belief.”
“What does that mean for us, exactly?” Larry speaks up.
“It means we could have the break we’ve been searching for, and in the process save a man’s life.”
The youngest deputy in the room, who has refused to meet Jon’s eyes ever since Jon snapped at him for being rude to Pike, raises his hand tentatively. “I could help, sir. I mean, if you want volunteers.”
Feeling guilty, ain’t you, kid? Jon decides to take pity on him. “A volunteer is exactly what I’m after. Much obliged, Deputy. Larry, take him off kitchen duty. He can sit in on the interview with Kirk.”
The younger deputy’s countenance becomes earnest. “I’ll do my best, sir!”
Jon almost feels bad for the duplicity. The boy’s going to be disappointed when he realizes the interview isn’t meant to happen. Jon will have to find a way to make it up to him later.
He is about to call dismissal of their briefing when Jenkins shuffles forward with an unusual hesitancy. “Sheriff, this evidence. Have you already seen it?”
Archer’s heart hurts at the same time he experiences a searing of anger, but practice at controlling his emotions keeps his voice noncommittal. “I have, but I think it’s best that I don’t share such information until an official statement is given.” His gaze skims the group. “You all will have a chance to hear the details then. Dismissed.”
Larry waits until the room has emptied before approaching Jon. “Is this going to be enough?”
“I hope so,” Jon replies. If Jenkins takes the bait, they’re golden.
Larry shakes his head in dismay and walks away.
This is for Pike, Archer reminds himself before following his deputy. Let the pain be worth it.
Kirk’s friends proclaim to anyone who asks that they came with him for moral support. Uhura adds in the face of such curiosity, “And for protection too. Don’t want Jim to get kidnapped, do we?” That seems to sufficiently shut down any further questions the staff have.
Things aren’t moving as quickly as Jon would like. They radioed one team of deputies to return to the station so that Jenkins and Matthews can be sent out in their place, but that also requires a small mountain of paperwork, which thankfully Larry has offered to do on Jonathan’s behalf. Now, nearly half an hour after he had briefed his deputies about the faux-evidence, he finds he simply cannot keep up with Kirk’s frenetic pacing while waiting for the exchange of teams.
Instead he busies himself with visiting the cell block, reprimanding the fully sober men in the drunk tank, and releasing them on a warning to seek less disruptive entertainment at night. Then he checks the locks on the weapons cabinets, returns to his office to check on Kirk, takes a water break in the canteen and then a bathroom break immediately after. Larry catches him coming out of the men’s bathroom with the finished paperwork for the transfer and insists after Jon’s signed it, “Enough already.”
“What?”
“You’re making the boys antsy, and that’s on top of them already being uncomfortable with the Merry Gang poking their noses into places they shouldn’t. So take a break, will you?” Larry even suggests, “A nap might do you some good.”
He snorts. “Naps are for toddlers.”
“Also for sheriffs who fall asleep at their desks.”
Jon rubs a hand against a sore muscle in his neck from that unfortunate truth.
But Larry isn’t playing nice anymore. “I’ll call in that Dr. McCoy. He seemed very interested in your drinking habits as of late. Should I tell him about your refusal to rest too?”
“That’s blackmail!”
“Call it what you will, boss.”
Damn. Larry has him cornered and knows it. Jon lets his shoulders droop in defeat. “Fine, I’ll nap. Briefly.” And so, with a loud muttering about mother-henning subordinates, he escorts himself down the corridor under Larry’s watchful eye to the small area converted from a storage room to a bunk room several years back. It isn’t meant to be in use 24/7, but recently with most of the staff burning the midnight oil on Kirk’s case, at least one person makes use of it each shift. Therefore Jonathan thinks nothing of it when the door opens and briefly highlights a large lump of blankets with boots at the end on the upper bunk bed. Stripping off his jacket, Jon hangs it over the foot board of the lower bed and sits down.
After scrubbing his face and sighing like a child relegated to a timeout, he realizes it actually is kind of strange for that blanket companion to have two sets of boots. Jon flicks on the lamp on the nightstand, then, and stands up. With one hand on the butt of his holstered weapon, he prepares to draw back the covers of the top bunk with the other.
“Don’t bother,” comes the muffled warning. A corner flips back to reveal one thinly slit eye and a mop of black hair.
“What in hell,” Jonathan growls, “are you doing in here?”
“Sleeping. Now shut up, or you’ll wake him.”
Without warning, the blanket shifts around the man staring at Archer. A pale hand pops out. Sulu’s tanned hand tucks it beneath the blanket again.
“Please tell me that’s not Chekov under there with you.”
Sulu’s visible eye considers Archer for too long. “We were on surveillance all night.”
“Who said you can sleep in my station?”
“Who said we can’t?”
A murmur of “Hikaru?” interrupts their argument.
“It’s okay, Pavel,” Sulu murmurs back. “Go back to sleep.” The glare fixed on Archer dares Jon to say otherwise.
With a shake of his head, Jonathan takes his hand off his gun and returns to sitting on the bottom bunk.
“The lamp,” Jon’s reminded, and so he flicks off the light.
After a time, he convinces himself to lay down. “I didn’t see a thing,” he mutters to the boards of the bed above him.
Sulu doesn’t bother to reply, no doubt taking that assertion for granted.
McCoy is the one who discovers Archer sulking outside the bunk room because sweet little Pavel snores like a runaway freight train, making it entirely impossible to nap. In fact, now Jonathan’s more tense than ever.
Leonard leans against the wall next to him and asks politely, “Good rest?”
“Do you really have nothing better to do than plague me, McCoy?”
“Expressing interest is hardly what I’d call ‘plaguing’,” Leonard counters before crossing his arms and tucking his hands into his armpits. “I thought you would want to know that the mole and Deputy Matthews finally hit the road.”
Jon sighs. “Thanks. Sorry I snapped at you.”
“You’re forgiven. None of us are feeling our best right now.” McCoy considers him. “Is this plan going to work?”
Larry had essentially asked the same thing. Jonathan still doesn’t have an answer different than “I hope it does.”
McCoy just nods. “So, in other news: Jim smuggled Scotty in from the parking lot. They’re hiding out in your office.”
Jon has to ask, “Have they set anything on fire?”
“Not yet.” Jim’s boyfriend pushes away from the wall. “But maybe we should check in?”
Jon can’t think of a better reason to end his sulking than the preservation of his sacred space, namely, the office where he keeps his cool Sheriff’s hat and a picture of a twenty-something Pike in an Academy uniform buried under Playboy magazines in his bottom desk drawer. In fact, his mood becomes rather chipper at the thought of ousting Kirk and his minion and reclaiming his territory.
Only first, he realizes upon approaching the office, he has to deal with the wraith-like figure guarding the door.
There’s no time to plan an attack because that very door flies open without warning, revealing a pale Kirk and an anxious Montgomery Scott.
Spock shifts out of the way so Kirk can pass him, and Jon—followed by McCoy, Uhura, and Larry, who had clearly been watching everything from the sidelines—hurries to meet him.
“What happened?” he demands, deeply scared by how ill Kirk looks.
Leonard pushes through everyone until he’s at Kirk’s side. He picks up the man’s wrist. “Jim, what’s wrong?”
“The tracking device,” Jim begins, pausing to swallow.
“It’s not working,” Scott explains worriedly. “There’s something wrong with it.”
The strength of Jonathan’s disappointment startles him. “You can’t fix it?”
Scott looks frustrated. “I would if I knew the problem!”
Spock inquiries, “Could the equipment be faulty?”
Scott stiffens. “Of course not!”
“No one’s blaming you,” Leonard interjects with a step forward. “Spock only wants to figure out where the problem is coming from.”
Scott’s shoulders come down slightly, and he holds up a small box-like object that in any other situation Jon would assume is a homemade bomb. “I think it’s interference of some kind. Blocking this wee thing from picking up the signals.”
Leonard runs a hand over his mouth in thought. Spock studies the unremarkable device in silence. Jon can’t help because he doesn’t have this type of expertise.
Finally, just as Kirk and Scott both begin to look defeated, Nyota cocks her head. “Monty, did you account for other transmissions? If you’re piggy-backing off a frequency that isn’t dedicated to this station, the signals could be blocked by other communications.”
The engineer’s eyes widen. “Lass, you’re a genius!”
Jon’s fairly certain that if he and a few other people weren’t in the way, Scott would have swooned in her arms. As it is, the man has already hurried back into the office, crowing his excitement. Subsequent rattles and bangs ensue, and Jonathan fears for the office furniture. Wordlessly Jim disappears into the office too, this time followed by McCoy.
Spock tells Uhura, “Well done, Nyota,” before following McCoy.
With a flip of her ponytail, Nyota cuts Jon off by the doorway to join her friends.
Jon lingers long enough to glance at his deputy.
Larry says, “Better you than me. Let me know when the tracker’s working, and I’ll signal Matthews as planned.”
“Thanks, Larry.”
“Sheriff!” Kirk’s voice is raised in excitement.
“I think that means it’s working. Take care of Matthews.”
“Will do, boss.”
Jonathan joins the crowd in his office.
Not surprisingly, Deputy Matthews has the worst case of stomach cramps in history. Jenkins sounded terrified, Larry tells them after receiving the panicked 911 call from his own colleagues, that his partner was about to perish while sitting next to him in the squad car. Matthews’s acting is so convincing that Jenkins is forced to park on the side of the road and beg Larry to come meet them. Calling an ambulance is out of the question because Matthews also adds ugly tears to the mix (Larry swears he heard the sobbing in the background), claiming that death would be better than having to pay the gigantic bill for an emergency ride to the hospital.
Calmly and with a twinkle in his eyes, Larry agrees to pick Matthews up. Jim and Jon high-five each other.
But in the deputy’s absence, the tension ramps up. It’s the age-old game: will he, or won’t he?
If there’s one thing Jon knows well about Jenkins, he assures everyone, it’s that the man wants to please whoever holds his leash. This tidbit they have fed him should be juicy enough to send Jenkins scurrying to the other side.
In the meantime, Scott has rigged up his device to Archer’s desktop after somehow surpassing the security of the network’s firewall and connected it to their GPS application which tracks the registered department vehicles in real time. The anticipation of the group heightens as Scott excitedly points out the blue dot which represents Jenkins’s cruiser according to internal diagnostics. Then he overlays refresh data from his device, and a red dot appears on the screen on the other side of town.
Jonathan is shocked, angry, and anxious all at the same time.
“This guy’s smarter than you give him credit for,” Scott says. “He’s figured out how to triangulate off the other GPS signals to skew the data of his location. You think he’s in one place, and he could be in an entirely different region.”
“Can we see where he’s been, Scotty?” Kirk asks.
Scott’s fingers fly across a keyboard. Tiny blue and red dots appear, initially creating one overlaid path across the map which eventually diverges into two separate ones, one red and one blue. When the man clicks on one of the red dots, the date and time of it becomes visible. He pats the device on the table. “She refreshes the coordinates every three seconds.”
Jon points to the street intersection not far from to the point of divergence. “Larry met up with Jenkins and Matthews here.”
Spock surmises, “Then the deputy waited approximately five minutes before he initiated the program which falsifies his location.”
Scott stares at Spock for a second with a frown before turning to the map and muttering to himself. Not long after, he exclaims, “Four minutes and forty-nine seconds! How did you know that?”
Spock raises his eyebrows. “It is simple math, Mr. Scott.”
“But you cannae tell how many dots there are!”
“Perhaps you cannot,” Spock replies mildly.
Archer interrupts with “Let’s focus on the task at hand, boys. Is there any way to project where he’s headed?”
“Not really,” Scott admits.
“Then what about an alert if he stops for a period of more than two minutes?” Most traffic lights in their town don’t take more than that to perform a full cycle.
“I can set up a trigger.”
“Do it,” Jon tells him.
“Wouldn’t it be better to have someone following him?” Leonard questions.
Nyota places her hands on her hips. “I agree. I’m going this time.”
“We’re going,” interjects another voice.
Spock and Uhura step aside, revealing Sulu with a freshly washed face and combed hair.
Jon stares. “That’s my jacket.”
Sulu looks down at the jacket covering up his t-shirt. He plucks at the embroidered name of SHERIFF on the breast pocket. “You had extras.”
Chekov appears behind Sulu, outfitted from head-to-toe in a slightly baggy deputy’s uniform, and announces happily, “I found a badge!” And, to be certain, the kid has. The badge is pinned in the exact right spot for an officer of law. Chekov’s new identity is Santos Guerrera.
Uhura suddenly looks at Jon, all hopefulness and wide-eyed innocence. “We’re working for you now. I think we should all have one.”
A resounding no gets stuck in Jon’s throat. “You’re working with me.”
“Same thing,” she counters.
“Will I have to take an oath?” Scott wants to know.
Jonathan does the only thing he can. He muses, “Well, now that you mention it…” as he strolls around Sulu, past Chekov—and quickly plucks the badge from Chekov’s chest as he goes. “No.” He turns to face the group. “No oaths, no badges. Unlike the movies, I can’t deputize on demand,” he explains to a narrow-eyed Uhura.
“Can’t,” she questions ominously, “or won’t?”
“Kirk,” Jon says pointedly, gesturing to the woman.
Jim tells her, “Archer needs time to think about it.”
Jon chokes, because that isn’t what he intended for Kirk to say, but nonetheless Nyota’s face clears of protest. She obviously has faith that Jim will find a way to convince Jonathan of his duty.
Turning away, muttering, “I don’t need a badge anyway,” Scott resumes tinkering with the GPS application.
Chekov is the only one who truly appears disappointed. Sulu slides around an arm around his friend’s drooping shoulders and asks, “So, can we have those coordinates or not?”
“Check your phone, lad,” Scott replies.
Sulu’s Sheriff’s jacket buzzes. He pulls out a phone.
Uhura checks her cell phone too with an approving “Excellent.” Then she informs Sulu, “I’m driving.”
Jim draws a small package out of his pocket and tosses it to Sulu with the instruction, “Be careful.”
Sulu nods.
As Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov make a beeline towards the exit, Jon turns on Jim. He says sharply, “You can’t make me hire you.”
“Maybe,” is all Kirk replies, returning his attention to the desktop. “Do you think it’s possible Jenkins could pick up someone?”
For a moment, Jonathan doesn’t want to answer. Inevitably, he relents. “Nothing’s impossible.” In fact, now that he’s thinking about it. “We can check the interior cameras.”
“If I wanted to get away with being a rat,” Scott declares, “I’d loop the camera feed.”
Archer closes his eyes. “Great.”
Spock queries, “Do you have an ITS which connects to the local traffic cameras?”
Jon opens his eyes. “That’s a good idea.”
Leonard asks, “What’s an ITS?”
“Intelligence transportation system,” Spock and Jim supply at the same time, then consider one another.
Spock says to Kirk, “If we cross-check the cameras with Deputy Jenkins’s trajectory, we may be able to ascertain whether or not he is alone.”
“The camera on the outside of the squad car could be helpful too,” Jim advises. “Until we have eyes on him, any information is valuable information.”
Leonard points at the map. “You might want to hurry up, then. It looks like our guy is heading out of town.”
They turn as one to stare at the screen. As the red path grows ever closer to the map’s edge, Archer thinks, C’mon, Deputy, don’t fail me now.
It’s ironic, he will decide later on, that even then he was counting on Jenkins to come through.
After a few minutes, Jon figures he will go crazy if he continues to stare at the map so he ushers Spock from his office to Larry’s desk, logging him into the computer there and bringing up the system Spock had asked about. “We can access most cams in the public domain. Not bus lanes or level crossings or privately contracted networks.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.” Spock takes out a smartphone that looks brand new and pulls up the same map that Scott has running in Archer’s office. “This should be sufficient.”
Jonathan nods and leaves him to it, thinking it will be interesting to see just how quickly Spock can parse the footage on his own. Moreau’s team had been exceptionally fast compared to the usual standards.
In the office, Kirk is speaking quietly to McCoy. They glance in his direction when he arrives. Eventually Jim takes a seat next to Scott, wedging his hands between his knees and giving his full attention to the monitoring program.
Leonard asks Jon, “Want a cup of coffee?”
That must be a signal because earlier on McCoy had jumped on him about drinking the stuff. He follows the man to the break room.
“This waiting is harder than I thought,” Leonard says, handing Jon a cup of water and then filling a cup for himself. “How do you stand it?”
Jon drains the paper cup, then crushes it in his hand and throws it away. “I generally don’t.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “I let someone else do the waiting while I ride off to the Town Hall to terrorize someone.” Usually Wesley. But Jon wouldn’t be able to stomach seeing the mayor after their earlier encounter.
Leonard looks into that cup of water he isn’t drinking. “Jim’s handling it well so far, but…”
“But what? You think he’s going to go ape-shit the moment we have a hint of Nero?”
“Yeah.” McCoy swallows and looks at him. “I do. But I already promised not to fight him over it. If it comes down to it, I’m going with him.”
Jon understands all too well where this is going. He decides to be honest. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“So, potentially, you’re going to let Jim see this through?”
And that’s the million-dollar question, has always been the question since the beginning. How far does Archer let Kirk go to save Pike?
“I can’t answer you, Leonard.” He sighs. “But I’ll tell you this, just between us: no matter what, Kirk comes first. I give you my word.”
McCoy’s eyes are suddenly tear-bright. “Thank you. Thank you, Jonathan. I can’t tell you what it means to me to hear that.”
Jonathan nods. Maybe Leonard can’t express it, but Jon knows. Confirming that Jim’s life takes precedence over all else means to Leonard exactly what it would mean to Pike. That’s why Jon can promise it. He doesn’t want to think about a scenario where he has to choose between the two—Pike or Kirk—but if he must, there really isn’t a choice at all.
Save the kid.
“Drink your water,” he tells Jim’s boyfriend.
Before Jon reaches the door to the break room, it flies open.
“He stopped!” cries Jim, framed in the doorway. Then Kirk’s spinning around, hollering “SPOCK!” loudly enough to be heard on the other side of the station, and sprinting away.
For one breathless moment, Leonard and Jon are frozen in place. Then they take off in a sprint too, after Kirk.
Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov are five minutes behind Jenkins, who has parked in a section of town that Jonathan recalls has been slowly undergoing construction for about two years. Jim calls Uhura’s cell from Archer’s desk phone and talks them through the duration of time it takes to catch up.
Leonard sits next to Jim, drumming his fingers nervously on his chair arm. Spock stands behind the pair, and Jonathan has taken up a position facing Kirk from the opposite side of the desk. Scott nervously switches his gaze from person to person in the room and ever-so-often fiddles with the keyboard under his hands.
“Chekov, where are you?” Kirk asks. “Scotty, where are they?”
Scott says, “I’m showing them in range now, Jim.”
Pavel’s voice filters through the phone speaker with confirmation of this fact. “Da, da! We’re wery close. We are turning in ze parking lot across the street.“
“Can you confirm a visual, Mr. Chekov?” Spock asks.
“Nyota has ze binoculars.” A few seconds pass before Pavel says, “She says ze angle is wrong. We need to get closer.“
Sulu’s voice comes through, volunteering, “I’ll do it.”
Uhura reports, “Jenkins just left the car. Sheriff, whoever he’s going to meet, he’s not doing it in the open. He’s heading for an alley.”
Jon plants his hands on the desk, leaning toward the phone. “Stay where you are. The moment he sees you, game over. He’ll spook.” Or worse, shoot you. Shit, why had he agreed to let these kids get involved?
Sulu’s “Kirk?” sounds like a request for confirmation of that order.
Confused, Jon looks to Jim.
Jim explains, “I gave Sulu a tracker in case there was an opportunity we could plant in on Jenkins’s contact.”
Jon’s first instinct is to call off the mission completely. But he also knows this could also be their only chance to get it right, and time already isn’t on their side. Pike has been missing for over seventy-two hours.
Archer makes a snap decision. “Listen carefully. One of you stays behind to keep eyes on the car and alley. The other two will circle around to the opposite side and hide there. Does everyone have a cell phone?” Upon confirming that, Jon continues, “We’ll coordinate your movements. Now here’s the most important part: do not engage. Are we clear?”
Chekov and Sulu’s “Yes, sir,” but Uhura’s “Acknowledged” leaves Archer wary.
“Okay. Who’s going, and who’s staying?”
There is a sudden garble of noise over the speakers—arguing. It seems nobody wants to stay in the car and miss the action. Jon catches Jim’s attention and points to the phone.
Kirk sighs through his nose. “Chekov, you’re in the car.”
Pavel gasps. “Zhat’s not fair!“
“The car is the getaway. I’ve seen you drive. If something goes wrong, you’ll get to Sulu and Uhura quicker than anyone else.”
“That’s insulting, Kirk,” complains Uhura. “I’m only slightly less reckless on the road than Pavel.“
“But, Jim, if Sulu is going…!“
“Please,” they hear from Sulu, and Jon would extremely surprised if Sulu isn’t giving Chekov the puppy-dog eyes right then.
Apparently he is, and it works. Chekov agrees with dismay, “I vill do it.“
“Monty,” Uhura wants to know, “are you picking up audio yet?“
Scott replies, “The strength of the signal is too faint. I think I could boost it with one of your phones, though.”
“You can hack mine, Mr. Scott,” Pavel offers. “Do you have ze number?“
“Jim can give it to me.”
Jim snatches up a sticky note and a pen, scribbling the number down.
Scott works rapidly to Archer’s eyes, fingers flying across his keyboard and spitting out code once he has the cell phone number from Jim, but Jim is a bundle of tension and demands. “Scotty,” Kirk calls for the third time, and Scott whips his head around, snapping back with sudden temper, “I’m doing the best I can!”
Leonard lays a hand on Kirk’s arm, and Jim deflates.
“Scotty… I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” mutters his friend, returning to work. A minute later, he turns up the volume on the computer, they all hear a crackle of static and then, out of nowhere, a voice.
Jon comes around the desk to stand by Scott, listening intently.
“Hello? Hello, is someone there?“
“That’s Jenkins,” Archer tells them. The deputy continues to call hello, his voice sounding nervous and, like before, hesitant.
“It sounds like he doesn’t know if his contact will show up,” Leonard remarks softly.
“He will,” Jim says firmly.
Jon is not above sending out a silent prayer to any deity that might be listening.
Uhura’s voice comes through the phone. “What’s happening?“
Jon points to Kirk to stay by Scott, and he slides the phone closer to them. “Jenkins is in position, but his contact hasn’t arrived yet. Sulu, Uhura, get going. Call—” He looks up as Spock lifts his cell in the air. “—Spock. Keep out of sight.”
“Will do,” Sulu replies, and not long after Chekov whispers, “Ze’re gone.”
Spock answers his phone on the first ring, puts on the speaker, and sets it on the desk.
Jon says, “Can everyone hear me?” He receives three confirmations.
“You should have just given anyone walkie-talkies.”
Jon responds dryly to McCoy’s comment, “I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Chekov, the second you see someone come out of the alley, tell us. Uhura, report.”
“We’ve made it around the side of the building,” she whispers, “but we’re stuck. We think a car’s coming.“
Jon meets Jim’s eyes. “Approach as closely as you dare but don’t try for a visual just yet.”
Uhura walks him through their situation so smoothly he can picture it almost as if he’s there. The car parks by the mouth to the alley; one door slams. The engine’s left running but there’s no reflection of headlights. A shoe scraps against the pavement at one point as though the owner decides to stop and peruse his surroundings.
Uhura falls silent during that time, leaving Jon to grip the edge of the desk. Eons later, it feels like, her voice returns, less soft but much more cautious.
“We can’t hear anything now except the car,” she describes. At nearly the same time, Jenkins speaks through Scott’s computer: “You came.“
“Sulu, go NOW,” Jon orders with haste, and takes a steadying breath thereafter because if Sulu, Uhura, or Chekov don’t make it back from this mission, Jon is certain he will never forgive himself. “Uhura, find the best position to signal him if need be.”
“This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” Nyota admits, but she sounds thrilled about it.
“You should not have contacted us.“
Jon becomes momentarily distracted by this new voice. It’s familiar, somehow. A memory one recalls with hazy clarity.
Jenkins is saying now, “I told you, I have information…“
A hiss. “Did we ask for it?“
“No, but—“
The crack of sound is fist hitting flesh. Jon isn’t the only one in the room who flinches. Jim grips the back of Scott’s chair with both hands.
Uhura says, uncertain all of a sudden, “I think there’s someone in the car.“
Jon’s head snaps back to Spock’s phone, which he picks up. “Where’s Sulu?”
“I only wanted to—I’m sorry, please—“
“I can’t see him, sir. He may have tried to find another way around.“
“—I have information! No, don’t!“
Jenkins’s scream makes them all jump, loud enough that even Chekov curses in Russian over the desk phone afterwards at being scared to death.
Archer has gone cold inside, the alarm bells going off in his head tangling up with Uhura’s whispers that she still doesn’t have visual of Sulu and in the background of it all is Jenkins, weeping openly from whatever punishment has been meted out for his disobedience.
Archer puts Spock’s phone to his ear and paces to the door and back, raking a hand through his hair. “Abort,” he orders the woman on the phone.
“What?” she cries. “But Sulu is—“
“I’m sorry, I swear! Come back!“
Jim jerks around at the plea, his face losing color. “Sheriff’s, he’s leaving!”
Jon snaps to Uhura, “Abort, damn you!”
Kirk is there, dragging Jon’s arm down and yelling at the phone, “Uhura, get out of there!”
“SHHH!” is the response and then, as if to make them be silent, the call goes dead.
Jon has never seen Jim so absolutely, unforgivably white before.
Jim has taken the phone, is desperately swiping through to find the call history for a redial. Jon takes the phone from him, and when Jim goes from white to furiously red, like he might hit Archer, Jonathan edges back, commanding, “Wait. Son, wait.”
Kirk stares at him, breathing harshly. Jon stares back.
Jenkins’s weeping has quieted to moans of pain.
Chekov whispers through the desk phone, “Vhat happened?“
McCoy looks sick, Spock is frozen, and Scott is close to tears.
Spock’s phone rings. Jon answers it.
“He’s gone,” Uhura says without preamble.
Jim’s throat works. “Sulu?”
Her voice wavers momentarily. “I-I don’t know.“
The sound of a car door slamming comes through the line connected to Chekov.
Nyota decides, “I’m going to look.“
When Leonard stands up from his chair, he sways on his feet. He doesn’t seem to notice as Spock steadies him.
“What did we do?” McCoy voices for all of them.
Jonathan is almost too afraid to find out. He does the only thing which matters most in that moment, reaching for Jim. After tucking the kid’s bloodless face against his shoulder, he holds Spock’s phone up. “Uhura, are you there?”
No answer. Jonathan checks to make certain the phone hasn’t disconnected.
“Uhura—Nyota,” he tries again, “tell me what you see.”
Someone pants heavily on the other end, as though recovering from running.
Jon frowns. “Who’s there?”
“Hewo? Oh, Sheriff! Zis is Pavel.“
Jim lifts his hand from Archer’s shoulders, turning red-rimmed eyes to the phone. “Chekov?”
Pavel cheerfully relays, “Ve have found Hikaru! Nyota cannot talk now. She’s crying and iz beating him.“
“Oh,” Jim says, sounding more like himself.
Jon allows Kirk to step back from him, looking away as Jim dries his face with his sleeve.
Jon hears the strain in his voice when he says, “Once you’re done beating your friend, put him on.”
Clearly that takes some time. In the interim, Jon takes the seat vacated by McCoy and rubs the bridge of his nose, hoping no one notices how he also might be surreptitiously wiping his eyes.
A voice comes through. “Sulu here.“
“They didn’t beat you enough,” Leonard cries over Archer’s shoulder. “You nearly gave us a heart attack!”
“Are you okay?” Jim asks.
“In excellent condition,” Sulu replies dryly. “Uhura couldn’t see me because I had belly-crawled under the car.“
Jim’s and Jon’s eyes snap up and meet.
“Sulu,” Jon asks, cautious yet hopeful, “did you…?”
“Plant the tracker, sir?” Sulu’s smug. “Yes, I did.“
Scott whoops and flies back to the computer.
“Scotty,” Jim begins.
“Already ahead of you, Jim!”
“What?” comments Sulu lightly. “No thanks?“
“I’ll kiss you when you come back,” Jon promises.
“Eww,” says Uhura.
Sulu sounds equally disgusted. “Then with all due respect, sir, I’m never coming back.“
“I vill kiss him for you, Sheriff,” offers Chekov and, from the sound of it, does.
“Almost,” hums Scott.
Everyone packs in tight around the desk. Leonard presses in close to Jim, and Jim’s arm hooks around his waist in response.
On the computer screen, an orange dot appears and begins to blink.
Jon closes his eyes in relief, then opens them again with a grin. “Houston,” he informs those present through the phone, “we have lift off.”
“Woohoo!” cheers Chekov.
“We did it.” Leonard looks amazed. “Jim, we did it.”
Jim smiles.
“And now,” Scott says, bubbling with immense satisfaction and causing all of them to once again lean forward in anticipation, “let’s see where this ugly bastard goes!”
Chris’s training and years of experience as a detective have made some rituals like second nature: observe, catalog, categorize. Despite having been beaten and now dragged along like a toy with its stuffing coming out, he takes in his surroundings in several quick sideways glances. Somewhat to Pike’s shock, he recognizes the area easily, for it is a private airfield he had often visited as a young man while he considered a career as a pilot. Abandoned once the owner died, the pavement of the strip has given way to patches of weeds. The aircraft hangar ahead bears the mark of harsh weather and rust, and has become the canvas for colorful graffiti. Farther in the distance, an old fuel truck with flat tires and faded paint sits at the border of the overgrown field. The field itself is long and wide, but empty, a breeze gently stirring the dying grass.
When Ayel leads their group to the back of the hangar, Chris takes note of the three black sedans parked in a line. Only one of them has the vague shape of a driver through the tinted windshield. A second man stands next to the door of the backseat, an imposing figure in his ironed suit, tie, and sunglasses. Whorls of blue are tattooed across the backs of his hands.
Ayel stops at a lengthy distance from the cars and removes a small but mean-looking blade from his pocket. Placing the blade flat against Pike’s throat, he orders Kor and his men to wait where they stand.
Kor’s expression has shuttered completely.
Ayel twists Pike to face the cars and lifts his chin. At the signal, the bodyguard opens the car door.
Chris forgoes the pretense of disorientation, then, because he wants to see the face of the man who nearly killed his son.
Shoes first, polished, well-made. The hand which grips the top of the car door is ring-less, has a twist of scarred flesh across the knuckles. The man himself is mostly unadorned but the quality of his attire is stylish and obviously expensive. Physically, he is not overly tall; his frame, wiry in such a way that usually belies hidden strength. Strong, angular features of the face suit the coldness of his dark eyes.
Yet nowhere that is visible to the eye does Nero have the blue markings of his organization.
Speaking with a quiet control that demands instant obedience, Nero calls to Ayel, “Bring him.”
As Ayel starts forward with Pike, Kor booms more loudly than necessary in response, “Surely killing this detective has less priority than obliging an honored guest!”
Nero’s gaze marks Kor, his disinterest in the man plain. “Is there a guest among us?”
Kor’s temper seeps through his voice. “I should warn you, friend, that I am easily offended. And once offended, I do not quickly forgive.”
Nero doesn’t react right away, and once he does, it is with a slow, chilling smile. “Ever arrogant, Kor,” the man concedes. “I often contemplate why it has been so difficult to be rid of you.”
Kor seems pleased to hear this. “A question which will be answered shortly.”
Hands in his pants pockets, Nero begins an elegant glide towards the approaching Ayel and Pike. When he stops just out of reach, Ayel does as well. Nero’s attention turns toward Kor once more. “You still believe you can defeat me.”
Pike feels the tension running through Ayel like a wire pulled taut; what should be the steady hand of a mercenary slips the slightest, causing a shallow but painful cut in Pike’s skin.
Nero’s smile falls away. “Kor,” he commands, “come here.”
For some reason, Kor obeys despite boasting brazenly, “I would defeat you, Nero. Such glory your death would bring me and my Brothers!”
“Among other things,” Nero remarks once Kor is near to him. “Control of my territory. The opportunity to secure the source of my wealth for your own.”
“Those thoughts do have appeal,” confesses Kor, grinning, as he stops just slightly ahead of Pike and Ayel.
Finally, Nero closes the distance left between all four of them, and Pike sees up close that Nero’s eyes are so black, it’s as if his pupils have eaten away his irises.
“Kor, Kor, Kor.” The chilling smile returns. “Blood-thirsty Kor. I am constantly wondering: does your kind ever evolve? You waste your days with endless brawling and petty crimes, yet are always so ambitious for more. When will you learn that real power is born from the chaos and terror of others?” He asserts, “What you are after is merely bragging rights.”
Kor counters with less humor, “What I want you cannot possibly imagine.”
Pike is certain neither tyrant cares that he is privy to this pissing contest; after all, in their eyes, he will be dead afterwards. That doesn’t stop Chris from being shocked however when Nero looks Kor over in that dispassionate way and speculates aloud, “Your desire must be great, indeed, to betray an honorable Brother.”
Instantly Kor’s face closes up.
Nero tilts his head to gaze at Pike, acknowledging for the first time that Pike is there among them, albeit with a knife to his throat.
“Do not think this man has brought you here as an excuse to fight me, Detective. He is in my debt. At his request, I had Ayel kill the one they called Koloth.”
The accused hisses, “Nero, you dare to betray our pact?”
Chris recalls Kor driving his men into a frenzy for vengeance, claiming Marcus had been behind Koloth’s death. But the truth must be that Kor simply wants Marcus out of the way. Why? Is it possible that Marcus already knows this secret that Nero so easily shares?
Chris’s throat works under the knife. Quite fiercely he suddenly wishes that he had the chance to look back and judge the mystery Marcus presents for himself.
Hardly appearing offended by Kor, Nero counters, “You dare to betray the one who made you?”
Kor falls silent, and Chris senses the man is re-assessing this particular battlefield.
Finally, with a faintly bitter tone, the arrogant man caves. “Take the detective,” Kor says too casually. “He has outlived his usefulness to me already.”
Nero merely watches in silence as Kor retreats to his men and Marcus. His cold gaze finds Ayel afterwards. “A dog only bites the hand of its master once.”
“Yes, Nero,” Ayel murmurs, clearly understanding the message therein.
“Come, Ayel.”
Nero pivots and returns to his car. There he tells the bodyguard, “The detective appears weak. Carry him. If he troubles you, cut his throat.” Then Nero moves on to the open door of the hangar, guarded on either side by two men with shaved, tattooed heads.
Ayel releases Pike to the bodyguard but not before hissing in Pike’s ear a reminder of his predicament: “By Nero’s hand you live or die. Never forget this, Christopher Pike.”
The bodyguard takes hold of Pike, swinging Chris over his shoulder as if he weighs nothing, and sets out after Nero.
Related Posts:
- Holiday Revenge (13/13) – from January 20, 2017
- Holiday Revenge (12/13) – from January 19, 2017
- Holiday Revenge (11/13) – from January 8, 2017
- Holiday Revenge (9/12) – from January 3, 2017
- Holiday Revenge (8/12) – from October 15, 2016
