Star Trek Big Bang: Mutiny (Part Five)
Title: Mutiny
Author: exastriscientia
Fan Mixer: To be added
Series: TOS/AOS
Characters: Joanna McCoy, James T. Kirk, Leonard McCoy, Spock Prime, a few scattered OCs
Rating: PG (for violence and some not so nice language)
Word Count: 35k
Warnings: Spoilers for AOS and some of the TOS movies.
Link to Trailer: To be added.
Summary: Joanna McCoy has been accused of destroying the USS Brittain along with most of its crew. There's just one problem, she's not sure she didn't do it. Memories a fog due to what she's pretty sure is Romulan brain-altering technology, she struggles to piece together the events of a Romulan infested planet before a verdict is reached. Meanwhile she is at odds with her father as Jim attempts to reconcile the estranged pair. A tale filled with conspiracy, action, and deceit, this reads like an episode of Star Trek.
Previous Parts: One- Two- Three- Four- Five- Six- Seven- Eight- Epilogue
“Have you ever done something unforgivable?” Joanna raised her head slowly from the PADD of the bridge transcription, fingers ceasing in their tapping against the edge. They had been at it all day, her guardianship having been temporarily handed over to the admiral for safe keeping.
Jim shifted, raising a hand to smooth his fingers over the growing scruff on his cheek. A passing shuttle glinted in the waning light out the window of his office. Leaning forward, Jim folded his fingers across his desk and inhaled slightly before speaking. “Define ‘unforgivable.’”
“Don’t play Vulcan with me.” Joanna arched an eyebrow over her clear blue eyes, setting the PADD down carefully in her lap.
“You know, when you do that you look like your father in the most uncanny way possible.”
“You’re avoiding the question.” Slipping the PADD from her lap to the table, Joanna stood, stretching as she meandered to the replicator. “Want anything?”
“Coffee.” Jim sighed, leaning back in his chair, which heartily accepted the movement, catching his weight comfortably. Settling his ankles crossed on the table, he folded his arms slowly. “Unforgivable…huh? Is that what you think you’ve done? Something unforgivable?”
“The thought had crossed my mind-two coffees, hot, one with milk.” The familiar sound of the replicator was then followed by the soft glow of light and then the shadows of two cups. Steam and the nutty scent of the beverages wafted slowly through the cool room. “Are you mad at Spock or something? It’s freezing in here…”
“Am I that obvious?” At Joanna’s slight shrug and the lift of both her eyebrows, he smiled and gave a slight laugh. “He thinks you did it.”
“Well, the facts do logically suggest me to be the most likely perpetrator…” She grasped the cups, one in each hand, and brought them to the desk, setting one in Jim’s hands. Wrapping both hands around the mug, she stepped to the window, watching the little red cadets exiting class below, most of them blissfully unaware of the bureaucracy above. “Computer,” a chime, “Raise temperature five degrees.” Another chime. “I think you can let him off the hook for being himself.” Joanna paused, savoring the hot liquid and allowing it to burn the edge of her lip. Taking in the wafting scent, she let out a slow breath. “What if ...” She considered her words once more before shaking her head slightly, fingers tightening and tingling around the scalding metal of the cup, “What if I did do it?”
Jim had the usual audacity to laugh, gulping the whole cup down before setting it next to the mess of PADDs on the desk. “Joanna, you are many things, but at the end of the day, you’re a McCoy. No McCoy can be coerced into anything, especially not treason.”
“Brainwashing is different from coercion. It doesn’t make me malevolent, but it makes me guilty-”
“If you did it.”
“-Right, if I did it. It’s like manslaughter-”
“Which will still get you dishonorably discharged. And I’m starting to believe your version about Captain Chabon accidentally striking the tertiary warp capsule with a high frequency phaser blast.”
“But that’s beginning to sound improbable even to me…and I was there when she did it. Either way, it’s only a theory based on...based on nothing, really. It’s just what she would have hit from the door, but that’s not where she claims to have been.”
“Go over it again.” Jim leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Every detail. I want to picture it as perfectly as possible.”
Sighing profoundly, Joanna took another sip of her coffee, this time more heartily. Watching the sun begin to dip down below the distant mountains, she looked up towards the stars, just now twinkling into the sky, and, despite the uncomfortable feeling in her gut which surfaced every time she recalled the events of the past three months, she pictured the engine room. Her reason for being there was fuzzy at best, memory still jarred from one too many run-ins with Romulans, even some Klingons, and their fists and phasers.
And she got nothing. Every time she tried to focus on that one moment in the engine room, her mind would drift to something, anything else. From the frustrating-- a smattering of memories of the planet that did little to prove that she did no more than intense cardio for months on end--to the least helpful--wondering what she would order for dinner or watch while eating to pass the time stuck in the apartment.
“Jim, I can’t remember anything.” She shook her head, flustered. “Except being cold and wet and oscillating between terrified and angry.”
“Try again.” His voice was gentle and coaxing. Jo closed her eyes and leaned back. The chairs afforded to admiralty littered around Jim’s office were the most comfortable Starfleet had to offer. She breathed in and out slowly, and suddenly, something clicked into place. It wasn’t a cascade of memories nor a rush of knowledge. It strode in as though all she’d had to do was simply invite it. It was a collection of names and pictures and something about it gave her a very, very bad feeling.
“And what does it say?” Jim’s voice urged--had she spoken? “That can’t be right, Jo. I recognize those names, they’re Vulcans in Starfleet.”
Jo sat up with a shout. “You’re right! They--Jim, they’re spies. They’re not Vulcans at all! They’re Romulans. I have to tell someone. Wait, I have to tell you. That’s why I memorized this list. Jim, I need to tell you there are Romulans in Starfleet masquerading as Vulcans.”
The look on his face was certainly not promising. She wondered what the rest of the admiralty would say if they heard this information. “Look, Jo, maybe you’ve had enough stress for the day. Maybe you should go home and think agai--”
“Jim, listen to me.” Joanna stood and began to gesticulate rather wildly. “I’m not crazy.” Nary proving her point. “I just remembered something important. I haven’t been able to do that yet at all! You have to listen to me.”
Jim sighed and nodded, removing his feet from the desk and sitting more upright in his chair. This couldn’t be good, Jo noted, sitting up more in her seat as well. “Ok, ok. Just...don’t tell anyone about this for now, all right? Lets keep this between us for now. Just until we have some solid evidence. I’ll to some digging first. I’ll going to Vulcan II tomorrow. We have a week to solve this, and then they’re putting you on the stand. I need to ask for help from someone. Someone who may have influence.” “Someone who can give us guidance on how to handle the information you may have.”
Joanna considered his words before shaking her head slowly. “I don’t see why we can’t just tell them. If they start an investigation, they’ll see that I’m right!”
“It’s not that simple. Starting an investigation can take time, and whether or not this list is correct, it doesn’t exonerate you. Plus, if there’s no evidence to be found, it’ll just get worse for you.” Jim prayed that reason still worked with Joanna and leaned back in his seat to give the girl some time to think about her options.
“So what’s this guy got that can help me?” She slumped back into the chair, not sure she much cared to fight anymore, though it was more likely that the caffeine had yet to kick in. Jim was grateful for her choice.
Smiling so mysteriously Jo was sure she’d be left wondering forever, Jim shrugged. “You just leave that part to me, okay?”
-----
“He’s not even trying to hide it anymore,” Jo noted quietly as she prodded at a log with a stick she had found within reaching distance in the cave. They had been there for three days, gathering strength and wasting supplies. This term was relative, however. The Vulcans seemed to glower every time the humans dug in to the ration bars without a care in the world, but Jo would simply give them doctors orders to eat up and get healthy and toss a few bars their way. “There is something seriously wrong with that Vulcan.”
“Hmm?” Davis raised his eyebrows over munching on the bar.
“Sirok. He just paced outside for like ten minutes.” Jo watched the blue uniform vanish into the woods. “And there he goes. Where do you think he’s going?”
“I don’t know the next thing about Vulcans and their behavior. You’re the one who knows about Vulcan physiology, you tell me what’s wrong with him--man, these things taste like crap.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to them,” Jo admitted. In all their previous haste to escape Romulan encounters, Jo hadn’t realized how much she’d missed casual conversation. Now they were biding their time, plotting their escape.
“I don’t ever want to.” The ensign grinned. Jo liked that about him, always smiling even under pressure. She was sure they had been in a few seminars together--it only made sense that they had been--but, she supposed, if not for this, they might never have met, even on the same ship. The Vulcans had been patient with this budding friendship, opting to stare vacantly out at the night air or occupy themselves with speaking quietly in their home tongue.
“Speaking of which,” Jo turned to face T’Pel and Sonek, who appeared to be speaking in great confidence, “any luck whatsoever with the escape plan?” She must have caught them severely off guard, as the two exchanged a meaningful glace before striding across the cave towards the small make-shift fire pit.
“We have discussed a plan of infiltration, yes.” Sonek nodded slightly to T’Pel, who nearly proceeded before looking towards the mouth of the cave. “Sirok is no longer present.” The Vulcans were losing their sense of observation. This place really was bringing out the roughest parts of them.
“No, he went into the forest. Again. There’s something wrong with him.” Another meaningful glance. “And you know what it is.” The pair nodded. “Are you going to tell me?” Their stoic faces were all she needed to see by means of reply. “Fine, but I think whatever effected the crew is finally taking effect on him.”
“We have given thought to that matter,” Sonek interjected as he made himself comfortable across from Jo around the fire. T’Pel, too, felt inclined to take a seat. “After considering the nature of our collective conditions preceding the evacuation, as well as the actions of the crewmembers, we have concluded that the Romulans orchestrated a brainwashing of the Brittain.”
“But it didn’t get everyone--and Romulans? How’d you come to that conclusion?” Davis replied with a little more force than necessary.
“It is no coincidence that the Brittain was near an area known to have a Romulan presence. Additionally, after we escaped the capture of Captain Chabon, the Romulans appeared to be apprised of the situation. They worked together in the attempt of our recapture.”
Joanna considered this theory and found no faults but one. “But Vulcans and Romulans share extremely similar genetic traits. Why didn’t this brainwashing effect you?” She considered the sudden abundant presence that Vulcans were abundant in her life after years of thinking of them as a rare species. “Or any of the Vulcans aboard, for that matter?”
“We are uncertain. One theory we maintain is if the Vulcan crewmembers were unaffected, they could easily be overpowered by the crew and, once the Brittain had completed its mission or returned to Federation space, the blame would have, seeemed logical to the admiralty.”
“The unaffected members would be guilty,” T’Pel summarized.
“And what about me? Davis?” Joanna sighed. “Shore?”
“You appear to have manifested only physical effects,” Sonek replied. “Perhaps a particularly strong mind is able to withstand the treatment.”
“You saying Captain Chabon doesn’t have a strong mind?” Davis replied with the same fire. Insulting the captain had serious repercussions with any crewman, even in her addled state of mind.
“Incorrect. She does, however, have a large contingent of crewmembers relying on her actions. Perhaps her emotional state--” Sonek turned to the very woman, who had taken to hollering down the cave. He was at her side in a moment, easing a cloth into her unrelenting mouth. “Captain, I must request you remain silent at the present.”
“A Romulan contingent may have heard that.” T’Pel instantly began snatching up her things. “We must relocate.” In response to Davis’ rolled eyes, she tossed a pack against his chest. “Fill this with the sleeping items.”
Joanna rushed to her pack, checking that nothing had rolled out, and hoisted it to her shoulders. “We can’t get far, it’s almost night.” She peeked out of the cave at the last dregs of twilight. “I’ll take crazy-duty.” Snatching up Chabon’s rope, she made sure to keep the captain ahead of her in the caravan. “Where’s Sirok?”
Sonek made a move for the mouth of the cave but Sirok came racing in. “I heard the captain yelling, might I suggest we make haste?”
It might not have been the best time, but Jo was startled enough. “Sirok, where the hell have you been?” The Vulcan made no reply but to grab the belongings charged to him, becoming the tail end of the caravan. The five pushed out across the rock wall into the forest, making sure to keep the next head visible. The humans, of course, were kept the middle, the faster, more acutely-sensing Vulcans heading and tailing the party. Moving to this formation had become a far too simple routine to master.
Previous Part Next Part
Author: exastriscientia
Fan Mixer: To be added
Series: TOS/AOS
Characters: Joanna McCoy, James T. Kirk, Leonard McCoy, Spock Prime, a few scattered OCs
Rating: PG (for violence and some not so nice language)
Word Count: 35k
Warnings: Spoilers for AOS and some of the TOS movies.
Link to Trailer: To be added.
Summary: Joanna McCoy has been accused of destroying the USS Brittain along with most of its crew. There's just one problem, she's not sure she didn't do it. Memories a fog due to what she's pretty sure is Romulan brain-altering technology, she struggles to piece together the events of a Romulan infested planet before a verdict is reached. Meanwhile she is at odds with her father as Jim attempts to reconcile the estranged pair. A tale filled with conspiracy, action, and deceit, this reads like an episode of Star Trek.
Previous Parts: One- Two- Three- Four- Five- Six- Seven- Eight- Epilogue
“Have you ever done something unforgivable?” Joanna raised her head slowly from the PADD of the bridge transcription, fingers ceasing in their tapping against the edge. They had been at it all day, her guardianship having been temporarily handed over to the admiral for safe keeping.
Jim shifted, raising a hand to smooth his fingers over the growing scruff on his cheek. A passing shuttle glinted in the waning light out the window of his office. Leaning forward, Jim folded his fingers across his desk and inhaled slightly before speaking. “Define ‘unforgivable.’”
“Don’t play Vulcan with me.” Joanna arched an eyebrow over her clear blue eyes, setting the PADD down carefully in her lap.
“You know, when you do that you look like your father in the most uncanny way possible.”
“You’re avoiding the question.” Slipping the PADD from her lap to the table, Joanna stood, stretching as she meandered to the replicator. “Want anything?”
“Coffee.” Jim sighed, leaning back in his chair, which heartily accepted the movement, catching his weight comfortably. Settling his ankles crossed on the table, he folded his arms slowly. “Unforgivable…huh? Is that what you think you’ve done? Something unforgivable?”
“The thought had crossed my mind-two coffees, hot, one with milk.” The familiar sound of the replicator was then followed by the soft glow of light and then the shadows of two cups. Steam and the nutty scent of the beverages wafted slowly through the cool room. “Are you mad at Spock or something? It’s freezing in here…”
“Am I that obvious?” At Joanna’s slight shrug and the lift of both her eyebrows, he smiled and gave a slight laugh. “He thinks you did it.”
“Well, the facts do logically suggest me to be the most likely perpetrator…” She grasped the cups, one in each hand, and brought them to the desk, setting one in Jim’s hands. Wrapping both hands around the mug, she stepped to the window, watching the little red cadets exiting class below, most of them blissfully unaware of the bureaucracy above. “Computer,” a chime, “Raise temperature five degrees.” Another chime. “I think you can let him off the hook for being himself.” Joanna paused, savoring the hot liquid and allowing it to burn the edge of her lip. Taking in the wafting scent, she let out a slow breath. “What if ...” She considered her words once more before shaking her head slightly, fingers tightening and tingling around the scalding metal of the cup, “What if I did do it?”
Jim had the usual audacity to laugh, gulping the whole cup down before setting it next to the mess of PADDs on the desk. “Joanna, you are many things, but at the end of the day, you’re a McCoy. No McCoy can be coerced into anything, especially not treason.”
“Brainwashing is different from coercion. It doesn’t make me malevolent, but it makes me guilty-”
“If you did it.”
“-Right, if I did it. It’s like manslaughter-”
“Which will still get you dishonorably discharged. And I’m starting to believe your version about Captain Chabon accidentally striking the tertiary warp capsule with a high frequency phaser blast.”
“But that’s beginning to sound improbable even to me…and I was there when she did it. Either way, it’s only a theory based on...based on nothing, really. It’s just what she would have hit from the door, but that’s not where she claims to have been.”
“Go over it again.” Jim leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Every detail. I want to picture it as perfectly as possible.”
Sighing profoundly, Joanna took another sip of her coffee, this time more heartily. Watching the sun begin to dip down below the distant mountains, she looked up towards the stars, just now twinkling into the sky, and, despite the uncomfortable feeling in her gut which surfaced every time she recalled the events of the past three months, she pictured the engine room. Her reason for being there was fuzzy at best, memory still jarred from one too many run-ins with Romulans, even some Klingons, and their fists and phasers.
And she got nothing. Every time she tried to focus on that one moment in the engine room, her mind would drift to something, anything else. From the frustrating-- a smattering of memories of the planet that did little to prove that she did no more than intense cardio for months on end--to the least helpful--wondering what she would order for dinner or watch while eating to pass the time stuck in the apartment.
“Jim, I can’t remember anything.” She shook her head, flustered. “Except being cold and wet and oscillating between terrified and angry.”
“Try again.” His voice was gentle and coaxing. Jo closed her eyes and leaned back. The chairs afforded to admiralty littered around Jim’s office were the most comfortable Starfleet had to offer. She breathed in and out slowly, and suddenly, something clicked into place. It wasn’t a cascade of memories nor a rush of knowledge. It strode in as though all she’d had to do was simply invite it. It was a collection of names and pictures and something about it gave her a very, very bad feeling.
“And what does it say?” Jim’s voice urged--had she spoken? “That can’t be right, Jo. I recognize those names, they’re Vulcans in Starfleet.”
Jo sat up with a shout. “You’re right! They--Jim, they’re spies. They’re not Vulcans at all! They’re Romulans. I have to tell someone. Wait, I have to tell you. That’s why I memorized this list. Jim, I need to tell you there are Romulans in Starfleet masquerading as Vulcans.”
The look on his face was certainly not promising. She wondered what the rest of the admiralty would say if they heard this information. “Look, Jo, maybe you’ve had enough stress for the day. Maybe you should go home and think agai--”
“Jim, listen to me.” Joanna stood and began to gesticulate rather wildly. “I’m not crazy.” Nary proving her point. “I just remembered something important. I haven’t been able to do that yet at all! You have to listen to me.”
Jim sighed and nodded, removing his feet from the desk and sitting more upright in his chair. This couldn’t be good, Jo noted, sitting up more in her seat as well. “Ok, ok. Just...don’t tell anyone about this for now, all right? Lets keep this between us for now. Just until we have some solid evidence. I’ll to some digging first. I’ll going to Vulcan II tomorrow. We have a week to solve this, and then they’re putting you on the stand. I need to ask for help from someone. Someone who may have influence.” “Someone who can give us guidance on how to handle the information you may have.”
Joanna considered his words before shaking her head slowly. “I don’t see why we can’t just tell them. If they start an investigation, they’ll see that I’m right!”
“It’s not that simple. Starting an investigation can take time, and whether or not this list is correct, it doesn’t exonerate you. Plus, if there’s no evidence to be found, it’ll just get worse for you.” Jim prayed that reason still worked with Joanna and leaned back in his seat to give the girl some time to think about her options.
“So what’s this guy got that can help me?” She slumped back into the chair, not sure she much cared to fight anymore, though it was more likely that the caffeine had yet to kick in. Jim was grateful for her choice.
Smiling so mysteriously Jo was sure she’d be left wondering forever, Jim shrugged. “You just leave that part to me, okay?”
-----
“He’s not even trying to hide it anymore,” Jo noted quietly as she prodded at a log with a stick she had found within reaching distance in the cave. They had been there for three days, gathering strength and wasting supplies. This term was relative, however. The Vulcans seemed to glower every time the humans dug in to the ration bars without a care in the world, but Jo would simply give them doctors orders to eat up and get healthy and toss a few bars their way. “There is something seriously wrong with that Vulcan.”
“Hmm?” Davis raised his eyebrows over munching on the bar.
“Sirok. He just paced outside for like ten minutes.” Jo watched the blue uniform vanish into the woods. “And there he goes. Where do you think he’s going?”
“I don’t know the next thing about Vulcans and their behavior. You’re the one who knows about Vulcan physiology, you tell me what’s wrong with him--man, these things taste like crap.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to them,” Jo admitted. In all their previous haste to escape Romulan encounters, Jo hadn’t realized how much she’d missed casual conversation. Now they were biding their time, plotting their escape.
“I don’t ever want to.” The ensign grinned. Jo liked that about him, always smiling even under pressure. She was sure they had been in a few seminars together--it only made sense that they had been--but, she supposed, if not for this, they might never have met, even on the same ship. The Vulcans had been patient with this budding friendship, opting to stare vacantly out at the night air or occupy themselves with speaking quietly in their home tongue.
“Speaking of which,” Jo turned to face T’Pel and Sonek, who appeared to be speaking in great confidence, “any luck whatsoever with the escape plan?” She must have caught them severely off guard, as the two exchanged a meaningful glace before striding across the cave towards the small make-shift fire pit.
“We have discussed a plan of infiltration, yes.” Sonek nodded slightly to T’Pel, who nearly proceeded before looking towards the mouth of the cave. “Sirok is no longer present.” The Vulcans were losing their sense of observation. This place really was bringing out the roughest parts of them.
“No, he went into the forest. Again. There’s something wrong with him.” Another meaningful glance. “And you know what it is.” The pair nodded. “Are you going to tell me?” Their stoic faces were all she needed to see by means of reply. “Fine, but I think whatever effected the crew is finally taking effect on him.”
“We have given thought to that matter,” Sonek interjected as he made himself comfortable across from Jo around the fire. T’Pel, too, felt inclined to take a seat. “After considering the nature of our collective conditions preceding the evacuation, as well as the actions of the crewmembers, we have concluded that the Romulans orchestrated a brainwashing of the Brittain.”
“But it didn’t get everyone--and Romulans? How’d you come to that conclusion?” Davis replied with a little more force than necessary.
“It is no coincidence that the Brittain was near an area known to have a Romulan presence. Additionally, after we escaped the capture of Captain Chabon, the Romulans appeared to be apprised of the situation. They worked together in the attempt of our recapture.”
Joanna considered this theory and found no faults but one. “But Vulcans and Romulans share extremely similar genetic traits. Why didn’t this brainwashing effect you?” She considered the sudden abundant presence that Vulcans were abundant in her life after years of thinking of them as a rare species. “Or any of the Vulcans aboard, for that matter?”
“We are uncertain. One theory we maintain is if the Vulcan crewmembers were unaffected, they could easily be overpowered by the crew and, once the Brittain had completed its mission or returned to Federation space, the blame would have, seeemed logical to the admiralty.”
“The unaffected members would be guilty,” T’Pel summarized.
“And what about me? Davis?” Joanna sighed. “Shore?”
“You appear to have manifested only physical effects,” Sonek replied. “Perhaps a particularly strong mind is able to withstand the treatment.”
“You saying Captain Chabon doesn’t have a strong mind?” Davis replied with the same fire. Insulting the captain had serious repercussions with any crewman, even in her addled state of mind.
“Incorrect. She does, however, have a large contingent of crewmembers relying on her actions. Perhaps her emotional state--” Sonek turned to the very woman, who had taken to hollering down the cave. He was at her side in a moment, easing a cloth into her unrelenting mouth. “Captain, I must request you remain silent at the present.”
“A Romulan contingent may have heard that.” T’Pel instantly began snatching up her things. “We must relocate.” In response to Davis’ rolled eyes, she tossed a pack against his chest. “Fill this with the sleeping items.”
Joanna rushed to her pack, checking that nothing had rolled out, and hoisted it to her shoulders. “We can’t get far, it’s almost night.” She peeked out of the cave at the last dregs of twilight. “I’ll take crazy-duty.” Snatching up Chabon’s rope, she made sure to keep the captain ahead of her in the caravan. “Where’s Sirok?”
Sonek made a move for the mouth of the cave but Sirok came racing in. “I heard the captain yelling, might I suggest we make haste?”
It might not have been the best time, but Jo was startled enough. “Sirok, where the hell have you been?” The Vulcan made no reply but to grab the belongings charged to him, becoming the tail end of the caravan. The five pushed out across the rock wall into the forest, making sure to keep the next head visible. The humans, of course, were kept the middle, the faster, more acutely-sensing Vulcans heading and tailing the party. Moving to this formation had become a far too simple routine to master.
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