With The River As My Guide 6/8
Chapter 6
“What?” McCoy felt faint. “You’re kidding.”
“Vulcans do not ‘kid,’” said Spock.
“But, but,” McCoy sputtered, “What the hell did I ever do? I don’t know any security secrets, or whatever! I’m just a doctor, damn it, not some goddamn intergalactic spy or what have you! Christ!”
Spock watched with interest as McCoy’s face grew steadily redder. He blinked as the doctor suddenly turned to him, “You weren’t planning to just give me to him, were you?” he asked.
Spock allowed the bottoms of his mouth to turn down in the faintest of frowns, “Of course not,” he said. “That would hardly be ethical.”
“Right,” McCoy muttered fervently, wiping his hands on his shirt, “not ethical.”
“I was planning to tell you and then ask you to make an informed choice as to whether or not you would be amenable to being ‘bait,’” Spock continued smoothly.
McCoy choked. “Bait?” he said.
Spock nodded gravely. “I will never be able to get close enough to the Captain to stage a rescue unless they have a reason to let me. You, Dr. McCoy, would be that reason. If you accompany me then they will believe that their scheme has worked, and that they control some aspect of my mind. By the time they discover their mistake it will be too late.”
“Huh,” Dr. McCoy said. “And you’re sure they have Jim.”
“Yes,” Spock said.
“Well then.” McCoy squared his shoulders. “I don’t suppose you’d have any idea what they want to do to me when they get their hands on me?”
“On the contrary,” Spock said, “They intend to kill you in the most lingering, painful way possible.”
McCoy stared at him. “Right,” he said weakly. “That makes everything sound so much better. He drew a breath, then looked at Spock. “So, which way are we headed?”
Spock permitted himself the smallest of tiny smiles. “East,” he said. “Jim is to the east.”
“How far east is east?” McCoy demanded.
“Far enough to need a Transport,” Spock replied, “As I mentioned several minutes ago.”
“Lord have mercy,” McCoy muttered. “Starfleet’s going to have a fit. You’re not supposed to be anywhere but under their supervision. We’ll have to use someone else’s credit chip.
“It is of no concern,” Spock said, “I have access to the funds from the Vulcan Embassy.”
McCoy gaped at him. “You spoiled brat, does your father know you plan to use taxpayer money to stage an illegal rescue mission?” he exclaimed.
“Not precisely, no,” Spock admitted. His eyes flickered towards his lap. “But as the Captain might say,” he said, “What he does not know cannot hurt him at this juncture.”
“I don’t think that’s exactly how Jim would go about saying it.” McCoy scowled at the dashboard.
“Regardless,” Spock said, “The philosophy stands.”
McCoy rolled his eyes up at the ceiling, “I’m going to regret this,” he said to the cracked sunroof as he started up the hovercar and pointed it towards the nearest city with a Transport Station, “I just know it.”
The closest Transport Station turned out to be in the city of Bend. Unfortunately, the station was small enough that it required them to first take a transport to Portland, then transfer in Salt Lake, and again in Atlanta (“Damn, it’s been years since I’ve set foot in Georgia, feels like coming home!”) before they finally stumbled off their last Transport a day later in the town of Leesburg, Virginia.
“You know Spock, if you’d known that Jim was ‘east’ somewhere a week ahead of time, we wouldn’t have had to transfer so many damn times,” McCoy snarked as they collected what little luggage they had.
“I have reserved a hotel room and a hovercar,” Spock said, sweeping past him and out the doors.
McCoy swore and chased after him.
The hotel was a lot nicer than McCoy expected. His suspicions as to why were answered when the concierge confirmed that they had received ‘Mr. Sarek’s accommodation request,’ and that their rooms were ready. And also that there was a package for ‘Mr. Sarek’ to pick up at his convenience - unless he preferred to have it brought to him?
“When did you even have time to mail anything?” McCoy hissed as Spock graciously accepted the offer of having the package delivered right to their door within the hour.
“I had time to contact Lieutenant Uhura on an encrypted channel and request that she send me some items with all due haste,” Spock replied. He raised an eyebrow. “Now if you will excuse me, Doctor. I intend to bathe.” And he shut the bathroom door behind him with a resounding click.
McCoy groaned as he stretched out on one of the twin beds, rotating his shoulders to work out the worst of the kinks from being cramped up in tiny seats during their multi-staged Transport journey.
A knock at the door had him almost jumping out of his skin, and he approached it cautiously, aware that if Starfleet had happened to send someone after them and he needed an escape route, they were still several feet above the ground floor. But the only person on the other side was a rather bored looking member of the hotel staff, who thrust a PADD at McCoy and told him to “Sign for Mr. Sarek’s package, please.” Dumbly, McCoy did so and nearly squeaked when the package was thrust at him. He carried it at arms length away from his torso back into the room and set it down on the desk warily.
“You may open it,” Spock said from right behind his ear.
This time, McCoy did make a rather undignified noise in his surprise as he turned around and said angrily. “Damn it Spock, don’t walk so quietly or I’ll make you stick on some little elf bells to match your little elf ears so help me!”
“I apologize for startling you,” Spock said, clearly lying through his teeth as he glided away.
“Right,” McCoy huffed.
“Vulcans do not lie,” Spock said self righteously.
“Of course they don’t, Mr. Sarek,” McCoy sniped back.
Spock had the grace to blush a little. “I will open the package,” he said, and brought out a pocketknife from within his small suitcase. He slit the tape holding the cardboard, and opened it to reveal,
“High grade weaponry,” McCoy said in an unnaturally high voice. “Wow, Spock. You’re really going all out. Who did Uhura blackmail into getting these for you?”
Spock reached into the box to pull out the meanest looking thing-that-might-sort-of-have-been-vague
ly-related-to-the-phaser-at-one-point McCoy had ever seen and examined it with a critical eye. “Jim’s life is at stake,” he said, setting it gently down on the desk and pulling out what looked like the bastard child of Spock’s Vulcan lirpa and a ninja throwing star. “I take that very seriously.”
McCoy swallowed as his gaze took in the remaining contents of the box: more phasers, knives, handheld explosives, even something that looked like a Klingon disrupter.
“I can see that,” McCoy said weakly. “Um, I don’t suppose you know how to operate all these . . . things?”
“Naturally,” Spock said.
“Great,” McCoy said. “I think I’ll go to bed now and try not think about how many intergalactic laws we’re going to break tomorrow.”
“Technically, we shall only be breaking five- potentially six, laws.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” McCoy said dryly. “Goodnight, Spock.”
“Goodnight, Doctor,” Spock replied.
McCoy’s last vision before he fell into a restless slumber was Spock meditating quietly on the floor next to his table of weaponry.
Spock did meditate that night, his first successful meditation in a long while, but he also slept. And of course, once he slept, he dreamt.
“It seems that now that we are linked and the block is lifted, I will be forever wandering into your dreams,” Spock said to Jim. “My apologies.”
Jim waved his hand, “It’s not like I didn’t dream about you anyway,” he said dismissively. “No biggie.”
“When this unpleasantness is behind us I will speak to a Vulcan mind healer about minimizing the effects of the link,” Spock promised.
“Whatever you want.” Jim shrugged, and leaned back against the walls of his stone prison.
“Is he- is he hurting you here?” Spock made himself ask. He knew he would not like the answer, but he had to know.
Jim shook his head. “Not particularly,” he said. “I don’t even think he’s here a lot of the time, actually. All I ever see is goons. And they don’t even do anything just- the loneliness and boredom is starting to get to me,” he confessed. “Being asleep is the best part of, well, the day I guess. If you can call it that.”
“I see,” Spock sat on the floor. “Jim . . .”
“Yeah, Spock?” He sounded vulnerable, tentative. Spock swallowed.
“I need you to do something for me.”
No hesitation. “Anything.”
“When the time comes,” Spock said. “I will need you to think of me.”
“Like that’s a chore,” Jim muttered.
“I will need you to think of me as hard as you can,” Spock said. “With every ounce of mental strength you have, you must pull me to you and you must not let go. Do you understand?”
“Pretty arcane sounding instructions,” Jim said. “Do I get to know why?”
“I-” Spock started, but Jim and the room were beginning to fade. “Jim!”
“Spock? Spock!” Jim’s voice echoed and vanished into the misty recesses of his mind. With a sigh, Spock allowed himself to surface into consciousness.
The next morning, Spock drove the hovercar north like a man possessed. McCoy was grateful for the stop they had made at the grocery store before their departure, because barring McCoy barking at him to, “Pull over at the next rest area or there was going to be an accident,” Spock barely allowed the ‘car to slow.
By the time evening fell, they were well on their way up the eastern coast, and McCoy was coaxing Spock to stay at a hotel instead of driving straight through the night.
“Look at it this way,” he said. “You’ll be no help to him exhausted. And I know,” he said, as Spock opened his mouth to argue, “Vulcans need less rest than humans, bla bla blah you’re all supermen or whatever.” He fixed Spock with a beady eye. “But you listen to me,” he said. “You’ve been through too much over the past month for it not to have affected you! Just- give yourself one more night’s rest and . . . Spock? Spock, are you listening to me?”
Spock was slowing the ‘car down. And then without warning, he swerved right to take a barely marked exit off the main road. Silence settled over the ‘car as the brightly lit main road faded into the distance and the one they were on lost its high visibility light to older, dingier lamps.
“Spock.”
No answer.
“Spock, where are we going?”
More silence. Outside the ‘car, overgrown trees began to scrape at the sides, making an eerie scratching noise.
That was the last straw. “Damn it man, if I’m going to help your sorry ass, the least you could do is explain why in tarnation we look like we’re driving into the set of a horror holo!”
Finally, finally Spock stopped the ‘car. He turned to regard McCoy, the dim light of the old road lamps reflecting the dark determination in his eyes. “Jim is nearby this place,” he said.
McCoy’s eyes bulged. “What- how do you know that?”
“I told you,” Spock said, unbuckling his seat belt and opening the door. “He and I are linked.”
McCoy got out as well, and they headed to the back of the car, where Spock opened up the trunk. “So basically you’re telling me that you have a Jim-specific homing device in your brain,” he said. “And I shouldn’t worry about it.”
“That is correct,” Spock said. He stripped off his lumpy sweater and stylish polo shirt and carefully folded them into the back before pulling on a long sleeved black shirt. He then strapped a knife to his calf, and wrapped the deadliest looking utility belt McCoy had ever seen around his waist, buckling it firmly in front.
“Damn Vulcan Voodoo,” McCoy said sourly, following Spock’s lead and picking up a phaser and sticking it into his belt. “When we get back, I’m going to run you two through every scan possible and see how your brains match up. I don’t care what the official Vulcan government policy is. That’s just freaky.”
“You are welcome to try,” Spock said, pulling on gloves.
Glowering, McCoy strapped another phaser to his leg, then a small pack of medical supplies around his waist. He looked up at Spock defensively. “We don’t know what condition we’re going to find him in, or what condition we’re going to end up in. Better to be safe than sorry.”
Spock nodded, his eyes already searching out the road past where they had set the hovercar down. “Agreed, Doctor,” he said.
McCoy jerked his head. “Should I assume we just keep going on this road?”
“Indeed,” Spock said. “I believe Jim is being held no more than half a mile ahead. I chose to stop the car here so that we might maintain the element of surprise.
“Good thinking,” McCoy said. He glanced at Spock, taking in the full effect of the pacifist Vulcan all dolled up in the gear of war. “Christ,” he said, “You look like Starfleet’s Special Forces.”
“It is possible that that is where the majority of the equipment came from,” Spock admitted. He grabbed a large coat and put it on over the rest of his clothing, hiding the weapons from view. He handed another coat to McCoy, who quickly followed suit.
McCoy heaved a breath. “Why am I not surprised? Now I can add potential theft of specialized equipment to our list of crimes.”
“Doctor,” Spock said. “Time is running short.”
“I know, I know,” McCoy said. He took one last long look at the contents of the trunk, then slammed it shut, zipped up his coat, and turned to Spock. “Let’s go,” he said.
The walk to where Spock said Jim was located was almost anticlimactic. Although they stayed to the side of it, the road itself was well-marked, despite the lack of light. They had been walking for about ten minutes when McCoy halted.
“Spock,” he murmured urgently. “Look.” He pointed up towards the right, towards what looked like the window of an old farmhouse halfway hidden behind a tall strand of trees, maybe thirty meters in front of them. “That’s the only house we’ve seen this whole time,” he said. “Do you think he’s there?”
Spock followed his gaze, then closed his eyes and concentrated. When he opened them, he wore an expression that McCoy could not decipher on his normally calm features. “Yes,” he said.
McCoy moved closer to shielding the provided by the trees and crouched down. “All right then,” he said. “What’s the plan?”
Spock blinked at him, then looked towards the house with consideration. He looked back at McCoy, who felt a sudden sinking in his stomach.
“Please,” McCoy stressed, “Tell me that your plan doesn’t consist of just walking up to the front door. Let’s just break in through the back.”
“It does not consist solely of walking up to the front door,” Spock repeated dutifully. “However-”
McCoy groaned, “Spock, your plan is starting to sound like something Jim cooked up.”
“I have noticed,” Spock said carefully, “That despite the outwardly foolhardy appearance of many of the Captain’s plans, most of them have turned out to be successful on some level.”
McCoy shook his head despairingly, “But Spock, that’s because Jim is the luckiest bastard in the galaxy. That’s not because his plans are always that good!”
“Do you have any better ideas, Doctor?” Spock queried. His tone was mild but his eyes were like hardened flint. “There are only three hovercars on the property, and only one of the windows is lit. During my time in captivity with Jim, I witnessed only four individuals. At most, I would suspect there are five or six in residence here. I do not believe this is a large operation. As for why we shall go by way of the front door. Well, they are expecting us, are they not?” He tilted his head, eyebrow raised. “If we arrive as they are expecting, whoever is awake will not have time to ‘raise an alarm,’ so to speak, as they would if they were to catch us breaking in.”
McCoy gave him a hard stare, but clearly Spock was resolute. “Fine,” he said shortly, after a moment. “We’ll do it your way. Do you plan to nerve pinch me, or should I just pretend?”
“Whichever you would deem sufficient,” Spock said blandly. “I have no opinion on the matter.”
McCoy’s jaw worked. “Right,” he said, and stood, brushing off his pants. “Let’s get this over with. I’m the bait,” he repeated to himself
“Once we achieve our goal of getting inside,” Spock said, “We must make sure nothing and no one will be able to impede our progress in finding and collecting Jim.”
“You mean you want us to take everyone in that house out,” McCoy translated slowly. “No matter what.”
“Only if they are in the way,” Spock said.
“Believe me,” McCoy said grimly, double checking his phaser and setting it to the highest stun possible, “for what they did to Jim, anyone within a mile of this house is gonna be ‘in the way’.”
They moved towards the front porch. The moment Spock deemed their figures visible from the house should someone choose to look out the window, he gestured to McCoy, who immediately affected a sort of staggering walk, limbs limp and somewhat askew. Spock moved closer and gripped McCoy around his midsection so as to give the appearance of handling a drugged captive. At the same time, he reached for one of the phasers strapped to his waist and slipped it into his left sleeve. Together, they made their uncoordinated way to the front porch and up the creaky wooden steps to the front door. After a shared glance, Spock gave three sharp knocks.
No one answered.
“Told you we should have snuck in through the back,” McCoy whispered. “Fuck, this is stupid. You’re going to get us killed!”
“Silence,” Spock hissed back. He knocked again.
“It’s not going to-” McCoy started, then froze as a light flickered on in one of the windows. He dropped his head and pretended to slump to the side.
“Who’s there?” called out a voice. “I’m warning you, we don’t like trespassers out here. This is private property.”
“It is Spock,” Spock said clearly. “I have brought Doctor McCoy as requested. You are now obligated to release my Captain.”
There was a split second of silence, and then quick, heavy footsteps sounded and the front door swung open. Spock very calmly stared down the business end of a phaser. “Fascinating,” he said. “I would be most curious find out where you have obtained specialized equipment allotted only to Starfleet and law enforcement officers.”
“I’ll be,” said the man holding the phaser, not lowering his weapon in the slightest. “It’s the goddamn Vulcan.”
“I have brought the Doctor,” Spock repeated.
“Hell,” said the man. He had balding patches of thin yellow hair sticking up in all directions, and dark circles under his eyes. “I’ll bet you don’t even have the faintest clue why you did, either. Brainwashed and all.” He spat on the deck by Spock’s foot. Spock did not budge.
“Harris!” the man hollered suddenly, not taking his eyes off of Spock and McCoy. “Harris, get everyone up. The Vulcan’s back and he’s got the Doctor with him!”
“What in the hell,” a second man appeared, rubbing his eyes at the light. He halted at the sight of the two Starfleet officers, eyes widening in alarm. “Jesus Christ, Walker,” he swore, backing off. “How much you want to bet they brought the goddamn feds with them?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Walker said. He lowered his phaser slightly, turning to the other. “You think feds would be dumb enough to just walk up to the front door and knock on it?”
“There is no one else,” Spock said firmly. And then he shifted slightly, let go of McCoy with a little shove, and slid the phaser that had been hidden in his sleeve neatly into his hand. He took aim almost casually, and fired.
As Walker slowly toppled over, an expression of abject shock clear on his face, Harris ducked to avoid Spock’s next shot, but failed to see McCoy crouch down and take aim at him from below. He too, fell.
“No one else will be necessary,” Spock remarked, stepping over the bodies. He looked at McCoy, who had straightened up and was prodding the two on the floor with the toe of his boot. “Anyone in the house could have heard that,” he said. “We must move quickly.” As he spoke, he took off his heavy jacket to free himself for more efficient movement.
“No need to tell me twice,” McCoy said, taking off his coat as well. “Where do you suppose the rest of them are?”
“Sleeping, I suspect,” Spock replied. He took the first few cautious steps into the front hallway.
“And Jim?” McCoy asked, voice lowered to a whisper.
“Jim is-” Spock started, and then stopped as lights flickered on and loud, confused, voices began to fill the house.
“Shit,” said McCoy.
“This way!” said Spock, tugging McCoy down and around a corner as a barrage of phaser fire sailed over their heads. Spock fired back, hitting something that made a loud thunk as it dropped to the ground, but clearly missing the rest of their assailants, who fired again.
“Damn,” said McCoy. He looked accusingly at Spock. “I thought you said there were only going to be five or six of them!”
“I appear to have miscalculated,” Spock said through clenched teeth. “It is of no consequence.” He shot again. “They have taken shelter behind the stairwell,” he said. “We must come at them from another angle.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” McCoy said, frantically indicating something over Spock’s left shoulder. “Why don’t we get the fuck out of the way of whatever the fuck they just threw at us?”
“What?”
“That!”
Spock spared a quick glance at the smoking handheld explosive that had just landed about a foot away from them.
“Agreed,” he said, and they bolted down another hallway, trying to keep low to the ground as an explosion wracked the frames of the house where they had been moments before.
McCoy smelled smoke and swore as they skidded into what appeared to be a large, although somewhat dingy, kitchen. He slammed the door behind them and flipped the latch. “What kind of fucking idiot uses a handheld explosive in a wooden house?” he roared as they ducked behind a cooking island in the middle of the kitchen to catch their breath. “They've started a goddamn fire!”
Spock said something that McCoy was pretty sure was not on the vocabulary list for Starfleet Academy’s Vulcan 101. He gripped McCoy’s shoulder. “We must find Jim,” he said urgently.
“I know, I know!” McCoy snapped. He shot a quick glance at the door they had just come through, then at another one opening up into a different room, and lunged to shut it as well. “Do you know where he is?”
“I- we were kept in a dark place, surrounded by stone. Most likely a cellar. Reinforced with a force field.”
“Or a basement,” said McCoy. He hit the floor with his fist. “Damn it Spock, sometimes the cellars of these old houses weren’t even attached to the main house! He could be anywhere in the area.”
The shouts from the main room grew louder. More phaser fire struck the door McCoy had closed, and sounds emanated from the direction of the second door.
“No!” Spock said firmly. “He is here! He is below us. Underground.”
McCoy heaved a terse breath. “Right,” he said. He indicated the other door. “That way,” he said. “We’ll just have to try every door we see- fuck!” he coughed, “that fire’s starting to spread!”
“Understood,” Spock said, and he and McCoy moved cautiously towards the second door.
“On three,” McCoy said. “I’ll open, and you fire every damn thing you’ve got.” Spock nodded. “One, two, three! Go! Go!” McCoy swing open the door and jumped out of the way as Spock dropped to a crouch and opened fire on the two men running towards them. One shouted as a phaser blast burned the side of his leg, stumbled and fell. The other dodged out of the way and fired back at Spock, who turned to the side and received a few singed hairs on the side of his head for the trouble. His phaser out of power, Spock dropped it and barreled straight towards the man. The man pulled out a knife and delivered an overhand slash aimed at Spock’s temple. Spock followed the man’s arm movement, stepping to the side and in front of him, then lifted the man’s arm out of the way, slid behind him, and delivered a nerve pinch. He dropped without a struggle.
McCoy trotted up beside him, looking casting wary glances up and down the hallway and back towards the kitchen. “That’s maybe five down,” he said. “Where are the rest of them?”
“Behind us,” Spock said grimly, and shoved McCoy out of the way as the first kitchen door exploded in a cascade of wooden splinters. Smoke billowed out, followed by phaser fire. McCoy shot back as he and Spock raced down the hall, yanking on every door they passed, swearing as they turned out to be linen cupboards, small storage closets, and spare bedrooms.
“How big is this damn house?” McCoy cursed, slamming closed the entrance of yet another cupboard filled with towels. “And why so many towels?”
“Here, Doctor!” Spock said, skidding to a halt in front of a nondescript looking wooden door. Nondescript that is, except for the lack of doorknob or otherwise visible way to open it, and the security panel on the wall beside it.
McCoy drew up next to him. “Can you hack it?”
Spock gave him a somewhat dirty look.
“All right, jeeze, sorry I asked. Just break into the damn thing already! I’ll cover you.”
Spock nodded, already opening up the panel and perusing the touchpad quickly. Then without further ado, he ripped off the covering, exposing a tangle of blue and red and green wiring. With the knife from his belt he slashed some of the red and blue wires, then twisted them together, brow furrowed in concentration.
McCoy fired shots down the hall as Spock worked. He glanced up, and then did a double take.
“I thought you were going to hack the thing, not hotwire it!” he said as the wooden door slid open and a draft of cold air billowed up from downstairs. He blinked. “Huh, you must’ve learned that from Jim.”
“Actually,” Spock said distractedly, already halfway down the steps. “I learned the skill when I was fifteen years old in order to sabotage a peer’s hovercar.”
“You what?” McCoy said.
“Later, Doctor,” Spock said warningly. He peered up at a gaping McCoy, who was still standing at the foot of the stairs. “Are you coming?”
McCoy shook his head, “You get Jim,” he said. “I’ll stay up here and make sure your Vulcan ass can get back through this door.”
Spock looked startled for a brief second, and then his face cleared, and he nodded. “My thanks,” he said, and then twisted around and raced down the rest of the stairs. McCoy watched him vanish into the dark, then put his back to the doorway and pulled out a second phaser.
“All right you bastards,” he said quietly, holding the weapon loosely in his hand. “Give McCoy here all you’ve got.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Spock’s footfalls sounded unnaturally loud as he burst into the stone room. It looked exactly the same as he had seen in his dreams; exactly the same as he remembered. A force field shimmered only a few feet from him and through it he could see Jim.
Jim! Spock’s knees went weak with relief. The Captain was slumped against the side of the wall, deeply asleep, but Spock could see the rise and fall of his chest, as well as the shivers wracking his frame. He looked skinnier than Spock remembered, and dirty, but alive. Still alive.
“Jim,” he said. “Jim!”
Jim did not move.
Spock looked around frantically for the controls to the force field. Spying another panel, he wrenched off the top and set to cutting and twisting wires again, hands trembling with adrenaline and fear.
The force field vanished.
Spock hurried over and fell to his knees beside his captain. “Jim,” he whispered, “I’m here. You must wake up. We must leave.” Gently he touched Jim’s face, then frowned as he felt the heat of his skin.
Jim’s eyes cracked open, bleary and fever bright. “Spock?” he whispered. He coughed, and Spock squeezed his hand tightly. “Spock? Am I hallucinating again?” He closed his eyes, sagging back away from the wall and down to the floor. Spock caught him before he could reach it, and maneuvered him to rest against his torso.
Spock swallowed, “No,” he said. “I am real.” He rubbed his hands down Jim’s arms, trying to warm him.
“Fuck,” Jim said, not opening his eyes. He shivered again. “That’s what my hallucinations always say.”
“I am not a hallucination,” Spock said a bit more firmly. He looked up at the sounds of more weapons discharging above them, then back down at Jim. “Do you think you are able to walk?”
“Oh, definitely,” Jim said, limply waving one hand around, his tone weak but dismissive. Nodding, Spock stood, hauling Jim up by the armpits. He tentatively released his grip, but quickly moved his hands back to prevent an imminent collapse as Jim swayed.
“Apparently not today, Captain,” Spock said, and lifted him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. There was a muted sound of protest, but Jim was seemingly too tired to struggle. Spock headed for the stairs, right hand holding a steady phaser, left hand curled securely over Jim’s waist.
“Spock!” McCoy shouted down the steps, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “You’d better hurry up! This whole damn place is about to go up in flames!”
Spock climbed quickly. At the top, McCoy turned to regard him and then his eyes widened at the site of Jim slung over Spock’s shoulder, taking in the flushed cheeks and glazed stare.
“Jim!” he said, as Spock slid him off his shoulder, but kept a tight grip around the weakened captain’s midsection to hold him steady.
“Bones?” Jim asked dimly, “What are you doing here?” He reached out a hand to presumably touch McCoy, who caught it, then rested his own hand against Jim’s forehead.
“Fuck,” he said. “He’s burning up. And I can’t treat him right here.” Jim coughed, and McCoy’s eyes narrowed, “and the smoke isn’t doing him any favors,” he said. “We’ve got to get out.”
Spock nodded sharply. “Through one of the windows in one of the spare bedrooms we passed,” he said. “I believe all the doors to the outside are blocked.”
“Either they’re blocked or they’re a fucking inferno,” McCoy agreed, “let’s go.”
Sliding through a window with flames behind them while carrying a captain who could barely stand, let alone walk, was not easy. McCoy went first, standing on a lumpy bed as he stuck both feet out the window, and then slid to the ground outside, narrowly avoiding the sharp edges of the screen Spock had punched through moments earlier. They then pushed and pulled at the Captain to get him through the window as well, aware that at any moment, someone whom McCoy had missed with his shots might sneak up behind them to deliver a fatal blow. Spock went last, climbing neatly through the window as though breaking and entering were an activity he partook in on a daily basis.
As Spock’s feet hit the ground, he gestured for McCoy to hand Jim back over. Somewhat reluctantly, McCoy did so, and Spock swung the captain up into his arms. Kirk mumbled something that could have been a protest.
“I wish I had a camera,” said McCoy.
Spock ignored him, turning and starting to walk towards the front of the burning house, and the road that led them to their rented hovercar. McCoy followed.
“We must contact Starfleet,” Spock said as they rounded the corner by the front porch. “We must tell them we have the Captain in custody and that-” he froze.
“And that I have the Doctor,” said the mysterious man from Spock’s broken memory, and dreams that were not dreams.
Spock’s eyes narrowed, and McCoy’s jaw dropped.
“You!” he said.
A small smile tugged at the corner of the shadow man’s mouth. “Me,” Dr. Valdez agreed easily. He leveled a phaser at McCoy, its red light blinking rapidly, warning the holder that the weapon was set to kill.
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