0Title: Exhibits A to D (3/4)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: There was a time when Jim Kirk wanted nothing more than to be alone. Now he can’t stand the thought. It doesn’t help matters that his situation is of his own making, since he is the one who expressed the exact opposite of his real feelings to the two people he needs most in his life. Now Jim’s mistake has cost him a chance at happiness—and possibly all three of their lives.
Parts: 1 | 2
Exhibit C: Reflection
“Before we can forgive one another, we have to understand one another.”
-Emma Goldman
now
As far as holding cells go, Jim has stayed in worse. The room isn’t filthy so much as cluttered, akin to a junk room hastily transformed into a temporary brig. Unfortunately, the Yegedin definition of junk is precisely in keeping with a human’s. Jim has not uncovered anything so far that could prove useful beyond a blunt weapon—sadly, not even a bandage, though there are some old robes he could use if he is keen to add his blood to the old blood already staining them. It isn’t his training in first aid preventing that recourse, but the certain knowledge that Bones would kill him if he risked infection in addition to already being injured. That is, Jim would die by McCoy’s hand if the infection and the wounds didn’t take care of him first.
“It’s not that bad,” he mutters to himself, more so out of boredom than an actual need for a pep talk. The positives are: one, he can still move around without falling over and, two, he remembers his name and rank.
“Vice Admiral Kirk,” Jim remarks aloud.
As the chamber is empty, no one laughs at the joke.
Kirk bends one knee and plants his foot against the edge of the bench he had up-righted some time ago. With one arm laid across his knee (the arm of his bad shoulder), Jim spends a few minutes pelting the only exit of the room with the beads from a necklace that had snapped in half as he had extricated it from a junk pile. Each bead makes a satisfying little plunk against the door.
At the very least, Jim has decided, he can annoy his captors into paying him attention. Often, the only way to turn a dire predicament to one’s advantage is go against common sense, like for instance driving a brutish faction leader to the point of madness.
Jim is so mired in his boredom he zones out for a while, monotonously tossing the beads.
The sound of the bar moving against the outside of the door is what drags him back to the present and he straightens from his slouch, surprised to have prompted a reaction in under an hour. When three men file into the room wearing the insignia of Barac’s faction, Jim stands up—but those men are not what roots Kirk to the floor.
The scene is a nightmare come to life: two figures framed in the doorway, one of them looking positively diabolical with light gleaming off the polished blade of a knife in his right hand; the knife he wields rests above the collar of Leonard McCoy’s Starfleet uniform.
Alarm rises in Jim’s throat but mangles itself on the way out. He lurches forward, making the nearest guard reach for his weapon but McCoy, seeing Jim in such a distressed state, quickly shrugs aside Barac’s knife and slips from his captor’s hold.
The doctor meets Jim halfway across the chamber. “Look at you,” he says softly, his gaze taking in Kirk even as his hands automatically unlock a medkit. His voice rises a notch, sharper, more condescending and not for Jim. “Is this an example of what you bastards call Yegedin honor? I’ve seen Klingon prison planets that have more care and consideration for the treatment of prisoners!”
Jim wobbles, wanting to laugh but also feeling enough despair to feel like crying.
“Easy, Jim. Sit down.” McCoy doesn’t give his captain a chance to argue, leading Kirk back to the bench where Jim automatically takes a seat out of an ingrained habit to avoid more of McCoy’s fussing.
The only sentiment Barac and his men seem to have for the scene are derisive snorts. The door to the chamber slams shut in their wake, no one having declared as much as a “You have a visitor” before leaving Kirk and McCoy alone.
Jim grimaces while Leonard inspects the tender area of his injured shoulder. “How did you get here?”
“I thought that was obvious. I was escorted by a posse of maniacs. What, aren’t you happy to see me?”
Jim swallows. “You don’t tell your best friend you’re happy to see him in hell.”
McCoy hums under his breath a moment, then goes to work with a regenerative tool. “I thought we weren’t friends anymore.”
Jim closes his eyes, stifling a sigh. “I never said that.” When his eyes open again, he implores, “Tell me what happened.”
“In a minute.”
“McCoy.” His tone takes on more of a bite. “Explain.”
“Bossy,” mutters the doctor. “Fine but roll up your shirt first, or what’s left of it.”
Jim knows when to compromise. He lifts the torn hem of his gold tunic.
“News reached the Enterprise that you’d been taken. Jesus, didn’t those bastards miss any ribs?” comes McCoy’s growl. At Kirk’s impatient huff, he goes on, “So I did what I had to.”
Jim never likes the sound of that. He says the same thing to his superiors when there isn’t a smarter way to gloss over taking a risk most captains would not even consider taking. “And that was?”
Leonard only catches Jim’s eyes a moment before turning his attention back to correcting the damage inflicted by Barac’s men. “Called up the Yegedins and volunteered myself as a second hostage.”
Jim jerks back from McCoy’s ministrations with the shout “You what!” and gets snapped at and told to sit still.
“They were nice about it in a creepy way,” continues the doctor after forcing Jim to settle again by jabbing his neck with a hypospray cocktail of god-knows-what. “The frisking was a bit much, but after I convinced them I wasn’t carrying anything on me or in this kit that could equate a jailbreak, they brought me here. You know,” Leonard says, pursing his mouth unhappily, “I understand now why what’s-his-face, Bark, Bardic—”
“Barac.”
“—Barac believed me when I said a dead Starfleet captain was also a useless Starfleet captain. You look like shit, kid. Uh-uh-uh, consider what you’re about to say to me,” Jim is warned sternly as his mouth opens, “because I brought an entire set of cartridges I am always looking for an excuse to try out.”
Jim goes with a pissed-off glare.
McCoy instructs him to lean his back against the wall. Then after digging around in the medkit for a bit, the doctor unearths another medical device, claims, “This won’t hurt at all,” and no doubt takes Jim’s silence as permission to continue his treatment.
Thanks to the appearance of his chief medical officer, within a couple of hours Jim Kirk is able to move around without pain. But no thanks to the same person, Jim is also stuck with a cellmate. Before long, he begins to pace, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Would you settle down?” complains Leonard. “I just fixed that limp.”
“I would have figured a way out of this. I would have,” Jim insists without slowing his stride. “Why did you have to do something so—”
“Stupid?” Leonard inputs, watching Jim closely. “You’re one to talk.”
He pivots and stalks over to the doctor, his blue eyes flaring in growing anger. “I didn’t voluntarily hand myself over to the enemy!”
“You might as well have!” McCoy shouts back. “You came down here by yourself! Only a fool doesn’t take a security escort—a fool or you obviously. By god if you weren’t still healing, Jim, I’d kick your ass clear across this galaxy!”
“I suggest you stop right there,” Jim warns him, fighting hard to regain control after his outburst. “I won’t tolerate insubordination, not even from you.”
McCoy has backed down before at that but for some reason, this time it has the opposite effect. But Jim refuses to cow even as Leonard jumps up from the bench and leans right into his face, looking more furious than ever.
“So this is the thanks I get for helping you? A reprimand and a reminder my opinion doesn’t count for shit if you don’t like it? Screw that! I didn’t come down here for my captain, I came for my best friend and you’d better acknowledge it, Jim, or I’ll really give you something to regret!”
Jim nearly chokes. “Bones.”
“And another thing!”
“Bones.”
“I know you lied to me!”
“I omitted some facts.”
“That’s the same damn thing as lying!”
“Okay, I acknowledge it,” Jim asserts quickly when it looks like McCoy’s verbal lashing is about to pick up steam. He takes the man by the shoulders. “Bones, I’m sorry.”
Leonard drags in a breath.
Jim repeats, “I’m sorry. I just—I hate that you put yourself in danger.”
“Now you know how I feel most of the time.”
They stare at each other for a long minute. Finally Jim lets Leonard go and steps back, raking a hand through his hair. “What do we do now?”
“What’re you asking me for? You’re the one with the ideas.”
Jim shakes his head. “I haven’t considered how to break out of here with someone other than myself.” He blows out a breath, feeling frustration return, and turns partly away. Admittedly any escape plan he would have likely attempted simply is not an option since Leonard is now with him. By gods, what were any of his crew thinking? What was… He voices the next thought with pure disbelief, “I can’t believe Spock agreed to let you do this.”
At McCoy’s hesitant intake of breath, Jim snaps back around, his disbelief edging toward horror. “Bones, Spock does know…?”
But before Kirk can press for that answer, the bar across the door rattles. Jim and Leonard turn to the door in time for it to be dragged open and Barac to appear. Jim shields Leonard without thinking, the act second-nature to him, as he meets Barac’s smug stare.
“I have good news, Captain Kirk. Your release has been negotiated.”
“That isn’t possible,” Jim responds flatly. “Starfleet prohibits negotiating with terrorists.”
Laughter booms out of Barac. “Then you put the wrong man in charge of your ship. Starfleet’s precious flagship is about to become a trophy of Yeged—and a symbol of your defeat!”
For a second, the world spins under Jim’s feet. He might have actually staggered, because McCoy suddenly has a tight grip around his waist, keeping him upright.
“No,” Jim croaks this time, “it’s not possible.” It simply isn’t. Spock would never hand over the ship!
Barac signals his men to enter the chamber, considering Kirk and McCoy now with less amusement and more speculation. “Kirk, you look shocked. I wonder, am I hoping for too much by trusting the word of this Mr. Spock? If you can’t fathom it… Could he be deceiving me?”
“Vulcans don’t lie,” interrupts McCoy, eyeing the guards dubiously who take up positions on either side of Kirk and him. “But don’t take my word for it. Ask one of your thrice-damned councilors.”
“Not a lie, then, but some underhanded trick,” Barac hisses with more menace.
The doctor levels a cool stare at the faction leader. “Or maybe he values what you have more than a ship.”
“Like your captain,” infers Barac, his stare more measured, moving from Jim to Leonard. “Or is it you, Dr. McCoy?”
“Just imagine if it’s both,” McCoy quips quietly.
Jim grips the man’s arm in warning.
Leonard lays his hand on top of Jim’s, squeezes Jim’s fingers, and then pulls them both forward under the collective gaze of their entourage.
then
A groggy voice demands, “All right, what have you done?”
Jim winces. “It’s nothing.”
“You don’t wake a man up before sunrise for nothing.” The man on the other end of the activated communications screen sighs deeply and fusses with his sweater, his clothing obviously hastily thrown on, before fixing Kirk with a no-nonsense stare. “Tell me.”
Jim doesn’t need more prompting. “I did something stupid.”
“Son, I already gathered as much. You only call when you’ve backed yourself into a corner and can’t figure out how to get out of it. So I repeat,” questions Christopher Pike, drawing out each word slowly, “what have you done?”
“Possibly alienated my first officer and my chief medical officer…?” He makes the statement a question to ease the frightening reality of it.
Pike huffs. “Causing dissension in the ranks again, I see. What did you say to ruffle their feathers this time?”
“It’s not like that. It’s…” Jim hangs in his head a little. “Worse.”
“Jim, we’ve had this talk. You aren’t going to agree with your team every single time. And from what you tell me, even those two can’t agree with each other on the best of days.”
“But—”
“Make a decision you can live with, and if your team believes in you, the rest will fall into line. Now,” the man adds more dryly, “if that’s all—”
“Spock and McCoy might transfer off the ship,” Jim blurts out.
“Impossible,” Pike counters sharply.
“You weren’t there. You don’t know how bad the fight was.”
The man on the screen leans forward as if after reading Kirk’s face he is beginning to reassess the whole conversation. “This fight. It was personal?”
Uh-oh, thinks Jim. The one thing he isn’t going to reveal to Chris is what the fight was about. No way in hell.
He plays dumb. “I’m a captain. Can any fight with my subordinates be classified as personal?”
“Kirk,” growls the admiral. Then, “New plan. Grovel, and pray McCoy and Spock are in a forgiving mood.”
Jim couldn’t be more stunned. “You’re supposed to be on my side! What if they hurt me?”
“Not likely,” Pike says, irritatingly dismissive.
“Some help you are, Chris.”
“I just call it like I see it. McCoy follows you around like a lost puppy, and though I don’t know how you managed to do it, you turned Spock into your guard dog. Shame,” Pike claims in mock sadness. “The commander had a lot of potential.”
If Jim wasn’t light-years away from Earth, he would consider showing up on Admiral Pike’s doorstep just to strangle the man. “You’re wrong on both accounts, sir. And frankly my first officer would be deeply insulted by your comparing him to a canine.”
Pike snorts. “Would he be… or just you? I wasn’t implying it was unfortunate. For a captain with your passion, I imagine having a fierce protector comes in handy.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Don’t pick a fight with me, son. And for the record, I shouldn’t have to tell you these things. You’re observant enough to recognize officers with qualities you want for your ship, so you should damn well be able to figure out who to have in your personal life.”
Jim almost slams the end call button. He has lost all control of this conversation, he really has. How to make it stop? He grasps around for something, anything, and comes up with “Bones never followed me around. I followed him.”
Pike rubs the spot between his eyebrows, adopting an expression of long-suffering. “You made yourself present, and he tagged along. C’mon, Jim, think. I could barely make Boyce step foot outside Sickbay when I commanded the Enterprise, and yet you have McCoy dirt-side regularly, being chased, shot at, and forced into fights right alongside everyone else. For a doctor, the man is either insane, a saint, or…” But Pike trails off with a shake of his head.
Jim has the ridiculous urge to press, Or what?
This is not working out the way Jim had hoped. It is true he never bests Pike during their debates, but for some reason Jim keeps forgetting those debates frequently end with a lecture.
He doesn’t need a lecture. “I think you’re still half-asleep. Go back to bed, Chris. I have a mission to prep for anyway.”
“Wait,” intervenes Pike as Jim reaches out to cut the channel, and Jim pauses. “Since I have you online, I heard another ship is set to rendezvous with the Gallant. So what mission are you on?”
Jim blinks. “Yeged.”
Pike’s gaze narrows. “Yeged?”
Pike’s surprises unsettles Kirk. “I thought Command decided collectively on the mission.”
They stare at each other.
Kirk finally breaks the silence, asking gravely, “Why do I have this feeling I’ve been handed orders I’m going to regret following?”
“I’ll look into it,” Pike says too softly. “Just keep your nose clean, Kirk—and your best officers with you.”
Unfortunately that will be one command Jim will not fulfill. But he doesn’t intend to share his personal decision with Pike. He responds dutifully, “Yes, sir,” and lets the admiral go.
Jim has a plan. Jim always has a plan. But today Jim also has a desire to handle the ship’s business alone. He doesn’t want to introduce distractions, cannot afford to, it seems. After his conversation with Pike, Jim feels convinced the mission to Yeged must be a double-edged sword. But why his ship?
So, no, Jim will not have any possible hint of distraction near him today and moreover, he will not have his crew in danger unduly. The Enterprise has started her orbit around Yeged, and that means it’s time to act.
But Kirk’s plan won’t be what his officers expect, and the captain himself is okay with that.
He answers the whistle of an incoming communication without thinking. “Kirk here.”
“Captain.”
No, Jim thinks grimly and at the same time, of course. “Dr. McCoy. What can I do for you?”
“The roster for Yeged, Jim. Why am I not on it?”
Coming from McCoy, the complaint is odd—which means Pike was right about Leonard’s proclivity to follow Jim wherever he wants to go. How has Jim never noticed this before?
Under other circumstances, he might have ribbed the doctor a little for stepping out of character but things have changed between them recently, enough so that Jim—with his mission in mind—cannot make the joke even in passing.
He settles on, “I don’t need you there. It’s a simple diplomatic excursion.”
McCoy’s tone gains an edge. “That’s not what you said before.”
“Bones,” Kirk interrupts, “enough. You’re not going, and I don’t have time to argue with you about it.”
The heavy silence from McCoy’s end causes Jim to sweat, making him wonder if he gambled wrong on the doctor’s reaction.
But just as Jim’s stomach gives a tight twist, McCoy’s drawl returns.
“If that’s what you want. I’ll see you at the debriefing later.”
Jim closes his eyes, guilt rearing its ugly head. “Bones…”
“Just be careful down there… and, Jim? Don’t be too hard on Spock. He’s got an excellent poker face but he feels as much as the rest of us do.”
Jim would find that statement ironic coming from the man whose personal pastime is needling the Vulcan for a lack of emotional display, but truth be told Jim is too busy fighting his own conscience to question McCoy’s.
“Jim, are you there?”
“I won’t fight with Spock,” Jim agrees at last.
“Thank you.”
The call ends without fanfare.
Jim spends a moment reorienting his breathing, knowing that he has avoided a fight based solely on Leonard’s decision not to push for one. He might get lucky once, Jim thinks as he goes to exit his cabin, but the chances of that luck holding out a second time are—
He stops. Stares.
—apparently ridiculously infinitesimal.
Spock blinks placidly at him from the corridor.
Jim knows why Spock and McCoy are checking in. That doesn’t make the knowledge easy to swallow.
Jim manages in a level voice, “I’m due in the transporter room.”
“I am aware of that, Captain. I thought I might accompany you.”
Jim steps into the corridor so his cabin door can close itself. “That won’t be necessary.” He starts forward, then stops when he feels Spock’s gaze lingering on his back to twist around. “Just say it, Spock.”
“I am relieved that you chose Dr. McCoy to accompany you to the surface.”
Spock thinks we’re reconciled.
Jim turns away to hide his dismay and snowballing guilt. “Mind the store while I’m gone, Spock.” He goes on to the turbolift alone.
McCoy knew. Spock clearly feels unsettled by and likely remorseful for the altercation that has driven a wedge between the three of them. Part of Jim wants to turn back and tell Spock that he forgives him. To call up Bones and say the same. He knows his friends meant well.
But good intentions can’t negate Jim’s pain. Guilt won’t alter his decision.
Focus on the mission, Kirk, he tells himself.
Yes, that is all he can do for the time being.
“Ah, Mr. Chekov,” Jim calls out as he strides into the Transporter I bay, “manning the transporter today?”
“Of course, Keptin. No one does it better than me!” Chekov responds cheerfully. “The Yegedins are at the meeting place, and I have the coordinates ready to go.”
“Excellent.” Jim jogs up the steps of the platform and takes a position at its center. “Ready when you are,” he says as at the same time Chekov questions, “Should I call the others to find out the delay?”
They both freeze and stare at one another for a short period of time.
Jim plants his hands on his hips and a smile on his face. “No need to call anyone. I’m ready to go.”
But Chekov looks too much like a baby deer caught in headlights, the officer’s wide gaze flicking from the closed bay door to Kirk and back again.
Jim makes a noise of impatience. “Mr. Chekov, you may engage the transporter now.”
“Sir, the landing party—”
“I changed it.”
“—but Security—!”
“I have the authority.”
“—and what about Mr. Spock—”
“I’m the captain, Pavel,” Jim interrupts, exasperated enough to throw his hands up in the air. “I can do what I want with or without Spock—McCoy too!”
Chekov inhales sharply. “I forgot about Dr. McCoy!”
Jim pinches the bridge of his nose, makes a decisive noise, and jumps off the platform. Pushing Chekov aside from the transporter console, he jabs at the computer screen until the transporter whirs to life, a thirty-second countdown beginning. Then he hurries back into place on the pad and there he locks his arms across his chest with a smirk, as if to dare his lieutenant to try to stop what is about to happen.
Chekov mutters in his native Russian language before stating resolutely, “I cannot allow this.” Returning to the console, he taps the screen. A second later, he taps the screen again.
And again.
Jim grins as a dawning horror overcomes the lieutenant’s features. “Just a minor disabling protocol, Mr. Chekov,” he explains. The countdown ends, and the transporter effect begins to take hold. “Scotty should be able to fix the glitch in no time.”
The last thing Jim sees aboard his own ship is a panicked Pavel Chekov dashing for the nearest wall intercom. Within minutes, Kirk’s senior-most officers will know what he has done—but they will have to wait to have words with their captain until his return.
Jim materializes at the meeting place and is presented with a curious spectacle. His research into Yeged’s history and culture, combined with his second-in-command’s report on the current political climate, left Kirk with the impression Yegedins thrived on pomp and circumstance. Yet here he is faced with an undecorated courtyard, empty except for a tightly packed crowd of humanoids staring openly at him. Jim raises a hand in the Yegedin form of greeting, and the group turns in among themselves with a flurry of whispers and empathetic gesturing.
Eventually the group seems to decide who will represent them, for one of the eldest Yegedins among them parts from the group, approaching Jim with a grim air.
“Captain Kirk,” the Yegedin speaks quietly once he is within hearing distance but not easily within reach. “I am Oqlah, Chairman of the Council of Yeged.”
Suspicious of me, aren’t you? thinks Kirk. “James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise.” Jim tries for a smile and adjusts his universal translator’s volume. “I hope my visit has not come at an inopportune time, Chairman Oqlah.”
“We were barely given advance notice of your arrival.”
Jim wonders if he can believe that but after taking in the Yegedin’s mannerisms, he decides he has no reason not to. “I apologize on behalf of the Federation, especially since I can see that my appearance makes you uneasy. However, your cooperation would be greatly appreciated, Chairman. It is my duty to represent the Federation’s interests while the Council decides Yeged’s future.” He adds following a pause, “Starfleet’s request to divert the Enterprise to Yeged was unexpected for me as well.”
Oqlah seems to consider his words carefully. “Then we are equally ill-prepared for our meeting, Captain. Be welcome to Yeged.” He beckons Kirk to follow him to the group and as they head that way, he remarks, “Federation dignitaries generally do not visit without their aides.”
“I left mine back on the ship,” Jim says dryly. “I doubt they’re very happy with me right now.” Feeling Oqlah is curious to know more but likely thinks it is impolite to pry, he explains, “I felt we might speak more candidly if you had only one guest to deal with.”
“Ah,” hums the Chairman. “And perhaps you also hoped we would see your actions as a show of trust?”
“Something like that.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Captain Kirk.”
The other Yegedins introduce themselves to Jim, and he learns that the councilors had gathered here in haste, having not known of his impending arrival until an hour beforehand when a brief communique from the Office of the Presidency arrived at the Chairman’s home. That is the primary reason for their visible discomfort.
Oqlah motions to the youngest Yegedin standing at the back of the group. “Come forward, Onred. Captain Kirk, this is my nephew. Please accept him as your escort. He will see to your comfort and your needs while you stay with us.”
Jim is a tad dismayed but also knows to decline the offer would insult the Yegedins deeply. “An escort would be welcome,” he says, “but please understand I am used to looking after myself.”
Onred interjects with a glimmer of humor, “My uncle speaks in an antiquated way. To be more accurate, I will function as a guide and protector—nothing more.”
Relieved, Jim nods. “Then I accept your offer gladly.”
Onred sticks out a hand. “This is the Earther way to strike a deal, yes?”
Jim laughs and shakes the Yegedin’s hand. The councilors relax in light of this exchange, and no one seems upset by Onred’s forwardness. Chairman Oqlah turns and leads his fellow councilors in a dignified procession across the courtyard. Jim and Onred follow behind at a slower pace.
Jim claims, “I think I owe you, Onred. You salvaged an awkward start.”
“You are most welcome… but please tell this to my uncle, Captain Kirk. Then he will not nag me so much about skipping my lessons in the diplomatic arts!”
“I know what you mean,” mutters Jim, thinking of his Academy days.
Onred seems pleased with himself. “Learning by first-hand experience is far more interesting than from a book.”
“Consider it done,” Jim tells him warmly. “Where are we headed?”
“To visit the Temple of Judgment,” Onred explains. “It is customary for offworlders to greet our gods of old and pledge goodwill before engaging with the Council on matters of state.”
“All right.” Jim stops Onred with a hand to the arm and faces him. “Onred, you seem like the observant type. What I can expect from the Chairman? Is he fair?”
“He cares about our people. Does this answer your question?”
“Not quite. I’m asking if he is already opposed to the Federation. Is my being here pointless?”
Onred looks at Kirk askance. “But you are here to persuade the Council!”
Jim shakes his head slowly. “No, I don’t intend to persuade anyone. I am here to observe, record, and report. Those are my orders.”
The Yegedin looks irked by this. “Then who will tell my uncle and the other elders they are idiots?”
Jim coughs to hide a laugh. “Shouldn’t that burden fall to another Yegedin?” He pauses to clear his throat before pointing out, “I know the Council has fallen short of reaching a majority vote in favor of the secession. There is time yet to give it more consideration if some of you feel strongly opposed.”
“Captain, surely you heard of the faction. Those who have openly expressed opposition have paid dearly for their opinions.”
Jim starts. “What do you mean?”
“Onred!” calls a councilman lingering at the base of a long set of stairs leading to the entrance of a large stone building. “We must perform the ceremony while Chairman is available. Come, bring the captain.”
Onred looks like he wants to say more but in the end does not, instead indicating that Jim should proceed ahead of him. When Kirk stops by the entrance, the young Yegedin passes in front of him, leaning in slightly to murmur for Jim’s hearing only, “If there is time, I will explain.”
Jim will make certain there is time to hear more. His gut has been telling him all along something else is at work here, and Jim doesn’t intend to leave Yeged until he finds out what that something is.
“Spock,” Nyota Uhura wants to know, twisting around in her chair to stare up at her former lover, “I don’t understand. Why would Kirk go alone to meet the Yegedin assembly?”
“I am not privy to the captain’s reasoning behind his actions.”
Uhura looks more concerned to hear this, but the bridge of the Enterprise is not the place to disclose the exact nature of the rift between himself and his captain.
“Should we report it?”
The question brings Spock’s focus back to the problem at hand. “His choice was within his rights as the commanding officer of this vessel, Lieutenant.”
“Unless he wasn’t in his right mind when he made the decision,” the woman points out. “Maybe Dr. McCoy could—”
“Negative,” Spock cuts in, startling the communications officer. “Proceed with monitoring Captain Kirk’s frequency.”
Spock steps to the center of the bridge without further ado, folding his hands behind his back as he peruses the planet of Yeged on the main viewscreen.
Nyota may not fully understand the consequences: to alert Dr. McCoy now would raise more concerns that would inevitably lead to deeper questioning of the integrity of some of Kirk’s machinations. To circumvent Spock’s attention, Jim must have falsified the roster of the mission and, Spock suspects, his captain employed the same ruse with McCoy. Spock is far from pleased by this obvious duplicity but he is still willing to consider the possibility that the motivation behind it was sound. Therefore he will delay the reporting of this incident as long as he can for Jim—and hope that whatever his captain thought to accomplish on Yeged will warrant the risk of his acting alone.
In the meantime, Mr. Scott will work to restore the transporter to full functionality and Spock intends to use the instrumentation of the Enterprise to keep a close watch on the events unfolding on the surface below. To that effect, he asks Chekov to continue monitoring the meeting place and Kirk’s bio-signature. Initial scans, which Spock conducted himself immediately after learning of his captain’s descent to Yeged, had pointed to no abnormalities.
Spock would of course take more comfort in these facts if Jim would only deign to check in with the ship.
The welcoming rite of Yeged is a simple affair, which Jim muddles through with the help of Onred, who very proudly tells Jim all the right words to say and even wordlessly turns the specter Jim is supposed to exuberantly shake around right-side up before the presiding priest and temple servants notice how clueless he is. At the end of the rite, Jim shakes a grinning Onred’s hand again and expresses his gratitude to Chairman Oqlah for Onred’s helpfulness. Oqlah is obviously pleasantly surprised by the praise, much to his nephew’s boyish delight. After a while, Oqlah expresses genuine regret to Kirk that he must attend another appointment, and so Onred situates Jim at the feasting table among the other councilors, with the promise to return in short order once he has seen his uncle from the building.
The Temple is ambushed almost directly after that. Jim is saved from capitation by his own clumsiness, having spilled his goblet of ceremonial wine on his uniform and momentarily leaned sideways for a cloth to dab up the mess. The head of the statue in front of him explodes in a shower of fine dust, the backlash from the blast knocking him to the floor and several councilmen along with him. He grabs for the standard-issue phaser clipped to his uniform but doesn’t have a chance to use it, for the innocent-faced temple servant who had only moments ago been filling glasses from a wine jug crushes Jim’s hand under his boot and then leaps atop Jim to choke him.
Jim is never above fighting dirty. He neck-chops his assailant and kicks him sideways. But the next attacker is equally vicious, jerking Kirk up by the hair. They wrestle for control of the phaser until the Yegedin sinks his teeth into the flesh of Jim’s hand and Jim drops it. With a pained, angry yell, he cracks his head into the other man’s face. The phaser, he discovers, has skittered more than an arm’s length away during the struggle.
Kirk’s dive for the weapon is interrupted by the downward arch of a sword. Jim rolls away from the attack and tries to stand but a second wide swing of the sword forces him to drop flat to the floor to avoid being struck. The armed Yegedin roars as he charges forward but never quite makes it to Kirk when the priest from the ceremony pinwheels sideways into him.
He curses soundly in multiple languages while scrambling toward his phaser again through the panicked chaos. When he’s almost close enough to take it in hand, two Yegedins circle in from the sides. But they are the distraction because another one catches Jim unawares from behind by driving a boot mercilessly into his back. Jim stumbles, pivots without any grace and lashes out with his own foot, knocking the legs out from under the man. The two Yegedins charge.
There’s no point in having the phaser if he’s less his head, so with dismay Jim has to give up the fight for it. As the Yegedin pair run straight at him, swords drawn, he rushes at them too—and slips right through the middle while dodging their blows, leaving the men to stumble to a stop in confusion. Jim keeps going, right for the far wall of the temple where he stops between two pillars to turn and get a better sense of the fight and the direction the attacking party is coming from. A hand grabs the back of his uniform, yanking him backwards. Jim uses his own body as a counterweight to the motion to swing around with a fast right hook but at the last second he pulls back the blow, seeing it’s Onred who grabbed him.
“This way!” Onred thunders over the shouting, grappling with Kirk’s shoulder to drag him into a run.
Jim has a split second to trust him and, as more armed Yegedin’s shout and point in their direction, decides there isn’t a better option. Together he and Onred take dodge the Yegedins giving chase, take down more of their attackers inside a short hallway, and finally manage to burst out of the Temple into the sunlight unscathed.
The hope that they have escaped is dashed at the sight of men lining the front of the stairs. Between the Yegedins’ hard-eyed stares and the cannon rifles and swords in their hands, Jim’s stomach sinks with certain dread.
He yanks his communicator off his belt, thankful he didn’t lose it as he did his phaser.
A Yegedin steps forward, thick about the middle from age, most likely, but looking like he would crush Jim in a physical fight. “That is not a good idea, Captain Kirk. Hand over the device.”
The sound of boots pounding stone at his back signals that there is no turning back. Kirk and Onred are well and truly surrounded.
“Who are you?” Jim demands as he tosses his communicator at the Yegedin’s feet.
“His name is Barac,” Onred supplies. “A heretic—and a rebel.”
Barac’s laughter fills the space between them. “Ah, now I recognize you! It is my great honor to meet the Chairman’s heir.”
Onred responds with disgust. “Your notion of honor is laughable, Barac. You have disrespected the wishes of the Council, and your violent act has brought shame to the gods! How dare you attack the Temple? It is a sanctuary, not a place to spill the blood of our people!”
“My duty was given to me by the gods.” Barac sneers at Kirk. “I am witness to their judgment, and their decree is that the Federation will destroy our old ways!”
Many of the Yegedins raise their weapons and bellow their agreement.
“So this is the faction behind the secession movement,” Jim surmises. He turns to Onred. “Are they the reason you can’t have an honest vote?”
“Poisonous words,” snarls Barac as he takes a sword from the man next to him. “I should cut you down where you stand, human.”
Jim chokes back derision. “You could, but what would that gain you? The Federation will send someone else—and keep sending them until it’s made clear Yeged was not strong-armed into a decision they didn’t really want. Where I come from you are the enemy, Mr. Barac. You stand against a fair and democratic system. And what you have done here today is heinous.”
“The Earther speaks the truth,” Onred says. “How will you justify defiling our traditions with bloodshed, Barac? Do you think my uncle will listen to your ravings now? You’ve dishonored all of Yeged!”
Barac scoffs. “I am not afraid of your uncle.”
“No, clearly the root of your fear lies in your own delusion.”
“Say what you will,” Barac growls, lifting his sword. “I know my cause to be more worthy than yours—and his!” He lunges at Kirk.
“Stop!” shouts Onred.
Jim can’t dodge far with the Yegedins behind him closing in but Barac’s death-blow never lands. Onred forces himself between Barac and Kirk in time for the sword to cut straight through the young Yegedin’s midsection. Jim catches Onred as Onred cries out in pain, bearing his weight down to the ground. There isn’t time to do more than stare at the blood staining Onred’s tunic before two Yegedins grab Jim from either side and haul him away.
“Fool,” Barac says, staring down at the crumpled Onred as he backs away.
“Murderer!” Jim shouts after Barac. One of the Yegedins pinning his arms backhands him.
Infuriated, Jim stomps on his instep then uses the moment of distraction to punch the other one. But he’s sorely outnumbered; where he takes down one man, another immediately takes his place. The Yegedins wear Kirk down until he’s shaking from the effort to stand upright—until he miscalculates a move. A hand becomes a blur as it curls into a fist and shoots forward, striking Jim across the jaw. The force behind the blow is so powerful that he slams into a wall of the temple and slides down it to his knees. His attackers close in and make certain Jim stays down.
“Mr. Spock, I’m receiving a signal from the Captain’s communicator.” Uhura turns in her chair to study the Vulcan seated in the command chair. “An alert for an immediate beam-out.”
Spock turns in the captain’s chair to meet her gaze steadily. “Has he attempted to communicate with the ship, Lieutenant?”
“No.”
“Is there any indication of a malfunction preventing direct contact?”
Uhura frowns, repeating, “No.”
Spock faces forward and opens a channel from the chair’s arm. “Bridge to Transporter I. Mr. Scott…”
“I need more time, Mr. Spock! I cannae focus if you keep pester—!”
Spock quickly jumps in, “The transporter is able to distinguish lifeforms. Is that correct?”
Scott’s rant dies. “Oh, yes… she can, sir. The Captain’s little trick didn’t mess with that subroutine.”
“Initiate a scan of the area central to the incoming coordinates. Lt. Uhura, please transmit the coordinates of the communicator signal to Mr. Scott’s terminal.”
Sulu turns from his console to Spock. “What if Captain Kirk’s in trouble?”
“In all likelihood, the captain would request transport via voice communique, even in an instance which necessitates maximum subterfuge. Jim would also know of the inoperable state of the transporter and precisely when our repairs should be completed.” Spock pauses the tiniest bit. “But I do not doubt, Mr. Sulu, that this is indeed an indication of an unforeseen event taking place on Yeged.” He stands up. “Do you have the results of the scan, Mr. Scott?”
“Hold on, just a wee bit longer—there!” But Scott falls silent thereafter.
When the silence becomes prolonged, the bridge falls silent too.
“Mr. Scott?” Spock prompts.
“I’m picking up four life-signs, Mr. Spock. None of them of Earth-origin,” Scott returns quietly.
At her station, Nyota draws in a sharp breath.
Spock reviews the possibilities of what that singular statement could mean and is chilled by every one. “Open a channel to Yeged’s Council,” he orders Uhura, “and prepare this message: The captain of the Enterprise has missed his check-in. If he does not personally contact us within the next fifteen minutes, the Council will be charged with his disappearance—and we are prepared to notify all relevant authorities of their crime at once.”
While the other bridge officers gape, Chekov questions hesitantly, “Mr. Spock, aren’t we supposed to prevent galactic incidents?”
“I believe the phrase is ‘They started it.'” Ignoring the mounting tension, Spock heads for a doorway. “Relay the response, if any, to the Ready Room.”
Once the door whisks closed, separating Spock from view and hearing of his colleagues, he takes a precious moment to gather his formidable control. Handling the Yegedins and what they have or have not done with his captain seems manageable in comparison to his next duty, but Spock cannot avoid it. He reaches for the intercom in the wall, activates it with “Spock to Dr. McCoy,” and wonders precisely how much bad news he will have to share with Leonard in the coming days.
Related Posts:
- Exhibits A to D (2/4) – from November 27, 2018
- Exhibits A to D (1/4) – from November 9, 2018
