fic: Captivity (4/?)
Title: Captivity (4/?)
Word Count: ~8000
Fandom: Star Trek
Characters/Pairings: ensemble; eventual Kirk/Spock
Summary: Prompted by st_xi_kink, here: AU. Twenty-seven years ago, Earth initiated war with Vulcan. Twenty-five years ago, the Vulcans won. Twenty-four years ago, humans became their slaves. Three years ago, Jim Kirk met Leonard McCoy. Today, they - among others - are wanted for their roles in the resistance.
Notes/Warnings: Sincerely hoping to update faster than this as a norm, for the record. Lots of love to everyone who has commented and come back thus far; you have no idea how encouraging it really is. And no real warnings for this chapter.
One | Two | Three | Four
“Hey, be careful,” Kirk says, grabbing Sulu’s arm to stop him from falling. A few dislodged pebbles make their way down the large hill, their bounces audible only to the two of them. Kirk stares after them with interest while Sulu just looks skyward, shutting his eyes and parting his lips slightly, part exasperation, part exhaustion, and part a plea to any listening deities to remove the pain afflicting his body. “Seriously, we can’t have you getting any more banged up.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sulu mutters, gently lowering his body. His fingers gingerly scrape against the rocky hillside as he touches down, sitting. He’d stretch his legs out if that action wasn’t going to make the pain that much worse. “Fuck, I’m thirsty.”
“And sleepy.”
“Oh, sorry. How long have you been up for, James?” Sulu snipes, but much of the bite is lost in the panting he’s doing. Kirk directs a glare towards him in response, but Sulu’s eyes are still turned skyward. The sun is much too high overhead for either of them to really be comfortable with, and it’s really rather hot.
With both injuries and reality catching up to them, the trek back to their hideout has taken far longer than either would have figured. Sulu’s entire body is still stiff and he hasn’t slept in hours. Kirk is in much of the same boat, only his cut arm is aggravating and painful, and it’s itchy and the makeshift bandage isn’t helping anything. Worse yet, he can’t remove it because they’re too far away from anywhere that could possibly be construed as safe; not to mention the fact that they’re limited on supplies as it is and he already has to deal with the possibility of infection simply due to scarcity; worse yet, Bones would kill him.
Not that he won’t want to if he ever tells him the full scope of the ideas putting themselves together in his mind. Things that he’ll have to keep extremely quiet.
There is a blessing. By taking the long way, they avoid much of the Vulcanized San Francisco, allowing them to evade capture for… hopefully, the entire return journey. Furthermore, by descending partway down one of the rocky hills that serve as a makeshift, half-assed nature-provided barrier between inhabitable ground and ocean, they really decrease their chances of being spotted. No enemy is going to come this close for a relaxing walk in order to do whatever it is Vulcans do with their spare time. If they even have any. Which they probably don’t. Because they’re too busy torturing other species and making sure that they stay enslaved.
It isn’t a good idea to get worked up right now. Not with the sun high enough in the sky to indicate it being midday, and blazing straight down on them, far too hot and far too easy to doze off in or get dehydrated in or whatever. Not when they need to be at their peaks both mentally and physically.
“… Twenty-four hours,” Jim finally replies, sitting down next to Hikaru. “That’s gotta be way less time than you. Leave me alone. Never,” pant, “should’ve brought you along.” Breathe. “Bones was right.”
Hikaru takes a few deep breaths in fairly quick succession. “Right,” he says, “because clearly, you’d manage so well,” pant, “on your own. With the. Sun. And. You,” the tone becomes accusatory before he changes direction, “I’m not the one slowing you down, I’m the one keeping you going.”
It’s totally silent as the two stop talking, concentrating on breathing. Jim stares down into the shallow valley while Hikaru finally opens his eyes and lowers his head and gazes out across the ocean, glittering with the sun’s reflection. It’s too hot out and Kirk is right, Hikaru has been up for longer, or at least that’s what it feels like. And he could really use some water.
After a few long moments, Jim says, “I probably didn’t think this part through.”
Hikaru gives a strangled half-laugh, very faint and very obscured by his nostrils flaring as he struggles to not loll his head back, lest he completely collapse. “Yeah.”
“Bones was right.”
“Probably.”
Jim gives his brain a bit of space, trying to clear the heat from it in order to think properly. He eventually stands back up, pushing himself off of the ground with his legs and grasping a dirt holding with his left hand as he does so. He lightly nudges Sulu with his foot. “Come on, we need to keep going.”
Hikaru moans and blinks rapidly, but he extends his hand, and Jim helps pull him up without sending them both rolling downhill. He shifts his feet around a bit, making sure that he’s okay. Jim still hasn’t let go of his hand and he’s started to walk, leading Hikaru along the narrow trail that’s going to be difficult to walk along, but it’s also the safest way for them to get back.
They’ll probably need to descend even further, probably be forced to enter through the passageway right next to the bay, and not one of the ones that simply pops up out of a hill like a gigantic gopher hole. And it would be nice if they could get back some time before the sun sets. Because it’s still a ways away. At least, Hikaru thinks, glancing behind him, it looks like we’ve actually covered a lot of ground already. That’s… good.
Jim seems to have the same idea, and he looks over his shoulder to engage his friend in eye contact. While still walking. “I didn’t think this through, but that doesn’t mean I won’t think the next one through. I think I know what we’re doing next.”
“Please keep your eyes on the path,” Hikaru whimpers.
“I’m still glad we did this though,” Jim says, turning back around. “It was important.”
“Was it so important that you had to drag me out to see it?”
“I find visualizations very useful; I thought you might, too.” Jim carefully places one foot in front of the other, then steps to the right, pressing himself closer to the wall and pulling Hikaru forward all in the same motion. With the trail widening now and even further up ahead, there’s enough room for the two of them to walk side by side. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like that.”
“I’ll talk to you when we get back,” Hikaru says, staring at his feet, covered by very worn and yet surprisingly sturdy and reliable running shoes. “It wasn’t worth it if we end up-“
Kirk shakes his head. “No. Nope. We’re not letting ourselves think that way. We’re winning this thing. We’re not going down just when it’s getting started.”
Hikaru huffs. His chest burns and his limbs are sluggish and don’t really feel like they’re a part of him, and he has no idea how his leader can keep himself going despite the exhaustion and the blood loss and everything. (In reality, Jim is only slightly better off; he’s just better at hiding it.) “Getting started?”
Kirk stops in his tracks. Sulu, sensing this motion, stops just a little ahead of him. He turns around to look his leader in the eyes, and is met with one of the most serious stares he’s ever seen on anyone, human or Vulcan.
“I need to know that you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone else.”
The gravity in the tone is enough to wake Sulu up completely. Stupor gone and fog lifting from his mind, he looks straight back at Kirk. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. He tilts his head, giving the slightest of nods.
“Not even Chekov. Not McCoy. Nobody.”
Sulu nods again.
“Because they’ll probably think I’m crazy for thinking of this.”
“Everyone already knows that you’re crazy,” Sulu points out.
Kirk’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest, which is actually a little scary. What follows chills him, as he says, “Then they’ll hate me. If I go through with this, they’ll tear me apart. Physically.” There’s a beat, and then, “Probably.”
They all have their self-esteem issues; it’s a little difficult to live in captivity with very few, if any, freedoms, enslaved to an entirely different species that considers itself superior in every single way, and come out totally fine and well-adjusted. But never would any of them - or Sulu, at least - ever think that the others would want to kill them. There are only six of them. Maybe there are more elsewhere, maybe not. But they can’t really afford to lose anyone, let alone their leader, of all people. For chrissake, McCoy is their unofficial second-in-command, and he never even leaves the damn hideout.
So this is either really, really bad, or Kirk has amazing control over his body language, and he’s totally fucking around with him.
“I really doubt-“
“You weren’t here for it,” Kirk says. “Actually, you were busy being… yeah.” Sulu’s fists reflexively clench at that, and he can feel anger running through his veins again at the mere mention of being stuffed in a box like a useless object to be tucked away into storage, but he just tries to focus on his breathing and Kirk’s words instead. “But before you were rescued and Uhura got the two of you back to us. I suggested-Well, Bones suggested that we kidnap the kid. He was trying to make a point about how hopeless the situation would be if it was too young, but I took it and nobody else thought it was really-“
Here Kirk stops himself, taking a breath, trying to centre himself and stop the nonsensical rambling. “Bones and Scotty agreed that even attempting a kidnapping would be ridiculous. But you saw the wall; you saw how easy it would be to get in, providing security remains down. The problem is that he’s fully grown, so immobilizing him would be difficult. But possible, I’m sure. And if we could take him back, keep him immobilized-I’m doing it again.
“It was a joke. A far-fetched suggestion. And I’m taking it seriously. I want to bring Sarek’s fully-grown son back to our hideout and keep him there. And I know that it sounds completely ridiculous. But I’m going to do it. And… I’m going to need help.”
Sulu absorbs the words, taking them all in and processing their meanings. “So you know that this is a bad idea, but you’re going to do it anyway.”
“Yeah. I’m starting to work out logistics in my head. We’ll need luck, and we’ll need resources, but it can-“
“You’re saying ‘we.’ Why? Do you expect me to endorse you?”
Kirk looks down into the valley, then turns to the rocky wall right next to him and starts drawing in the dust. “I was hoping you would. I figure you’re the most likely one to come out and do it, and the least likely one to object. Look, we can do this at night, go this shorter route, and right when it gets dark blow it up and, it won’t be enough to take down the steel walls, but the brick one-“
Sulu swats at Kirk’s arm, pulling his hand away from his dirt sketch. “Stop that. This is crazy. You don’t even know what you’re doing-“
“I’m working on it, I said I was still sorting everything out in my head, I’m trying to give a sales pitch here-“
“And you didn’t even say what we’d be doing with him if we can even pull this off. If.”
At this, Kirk falls silent. He looks back at his rectangles and arrows, and then brushes them off, removing the dust they were lightly sketched into and effectively erasing the mess. “That’s because… I don’t really know, yet. That part I would-we would-play by ear.”
Sulu stares blankly at his leader, not entirely sure if he’s even hearing this right or interpreting the information correctly.
“Okay!” he says. “I’m officially too tired, and I’m getting heat stroke, because I’m not hearing you properly anymore. Let’s go back now, please.” And with that, he turns his back on Kirk, walking away from him.
“Wait,” Kirk says, reaching out and grabbing Sulu’s wrist. Sulu pulls his way out of the weak grasp, and keeps on going. Kirk starts moving to catch up with him, and works on keeping pace while he continues, “Just because I don’t know right at this moment doesn’t mean I won’t in the future. A lot of it is going to depend on his reaction to being kidnapped, obviously, but maybe we can turn him.”
Sulu snorts, not even dignifying his older friend with a look as he keeps going. Kirk sighs and speeds up, cutting Sulu off and standing directly in front of him. He makes to grasp his shoulders and hold him in place. “And if not, then we can just kill him. Plain and simple. But I’m sure they have great technology - I mean, look at what we can cook up - and will be able to tell if someone’s still alive or not. So. If we can find a way to secure him, then we can cut him up, bit by bit, and get Uhura to leave body parts right on Sarek’s door step. Start with a toe. Then two toes. Then a whole damn foot, then the other foot, half of the shin, the kneecaps, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything. And if we keep him alive, it’s gotta be complete torture, and with no escape, too. Come on. Come on. That’s some great bloodlust right there, yeah? Yeah, it is. It’s something. It’s better than letting this go. Hikaru, come on, I know you’ve got me on this. You’ve got me, right? You know what I’m talking about? Hikaru, please…”
In truth, Hikaru had phased out Kirk’s words at some point after the amputation suggestion. The mental image of a helpless Vulcan; finally, one of them being helpless, is a beauty. Crude - because hey, they can’t promise to prevent infection or anything, they live in the dirt - awkward cuts, staining their ground with green blood as body parts are separated and chucked right at fucking Sarek is something that would really lift spirits.
And because it’s a fully-grown one, from the sounds of it, it wouldn’t necessarily make them monsters. No children would be hurt. And it’s just an unjust war. And they’re already the victims. He’s already the victim.
It’s really only fair.
“Hikaru?”
Hikaru snaps out of it, then grasps Jim’s shoulders in his own hands. “You’re going to plan this out better, right?”
Jim sighs in relief. “Yeah. Oh, fuck, yes, I will. You don’t have to worry about a thing, just not breathing a word of this to anyone else and then approving my plan when I’ve got it. I’m not rushing into this. We’re going to do more spying, and I’ll come up with something foolproof. And if I can’t, then we won’t do it. Simple as that.
“We aren’t going to find ourselves out here with the sun directly overhead again. Not with a body to bring back with us. I promise.”
Hikaru squeezes Jim’s shoulders, pulling them closer together, bowing his head into Jim’s so that their foreheads are touching, and then he grins.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m in. I’ll help you out.”
Jim’s smile matches his, excited and venomous, and then he pulls back, turning around and proceeding along with Sulu. He pats him on the back as they continue to make their way. “I knew I could count on you for this. I’m so fucking glad we’ve got you.”
-
The sky is starting to change colours by the time they reach the bay and the entranceway they have back into their hideout. It’s one of the bigger ones, since it’s mostly a safe assumption that no Vulcan is going to travel out this far to be this close to a large body of water. It’s inconspicuous, too. From the start it looks like a normal cave, plunging into the rock right next to the bay. It goes in deep and gets narrower and narrower as it does, to the point that crawling is a necessity, before it suddenly opens up in the war room.
Sulu goes in first, not comfortable with the enclosed space and needing encouragement from behind to keep him going. If he freezes up and gets stuck, then he’s trapped Kirk as well. It’s a strong enough motivation - he’d rather have himself die than anyone else with him, they all would - to push him through.
At which point he rolls out of the way, collapsing on his back and not getting up.
Kirk follows him out, standing on wobbly legs. “Hey,” he weakly lifts an arm to McCoy, “where’s everyone else?”
McCoy looks up from one of his old books, angled just right to catch the sunlight. “Scotty and Chekov went to check up on the bombs and shit,” he says. “Where’s Uhura?”
“Glad to see you were so concerned about why we were taking so long to get back,” Sulu mutters to himself. He goes unheard.
“She isn’t back yet? Oh… She said she was gonna stay out longer to get more stuff for us. She’s probably fine,” Kirk answers.
McCoy shifts and then stands, leaving the book as he walks over to meet them. He stoops over Sulu first. “Of course she is. I trust her,” he says, pulling Sulu’s arm up towards him. “You two, on the other hand,” McCoy continues, noting the limpness, “I don’t. Do you feel okay?”
“I’m really thirsty,” Sulu mumbles, turning his head to look up at McCoy. “And sleepy. So sleepy. Just let me lie down right here, please. If I die don’t mind me, just toss my corpse out into the ocean, it’s totally cool.” He shuts his eyes. “So much water there. Do it at night, it’s too hot out…”
McCoy lowers the arm back down to the ground, shaking his head. “So basically, neither of you are bleeding.”
“Aren’t you proud?” Kirk asks, finally sitting down, near Sulu’s feet, and resting his back up against the wall. He leans his head back into it. “Water would be awesome though. Thanks.”
“I don’t really like either of you, you know,” McCoy says, rising. “I’ll get you your damn water and then you’re going to talk.”
Kirk smiles. “You’ll make a great interrogator some day, you know,” he says, voice only half-there. McCoy doesn’t respond either because he didn’t hear him or because he just doesn’t care enough to bother. Probably the first one, Kirk thinks.
After a few seconds, Sulu pipes up, “Wait, he’s going to interrogate him?”
“Shut up,” Kirk mutters. “Seriously, if you’re going to be this out of it, don’t say anything. Just think about how you’re underground now.”
“Mmmm,” Sulu smiles, and with his eyes still shut, it’s actually rather adorable. “That’s fucking awesome. This is so fucking awesome,” he mumbles to himself, and it looks like he’s about to fall asleep until-
“Drink,” McCoy snaps, nudging Sulu’s torso with his foot and holding a simple cup to his lips. Sulu blearily opens his eyes, looks at McCoy’s no nonsense expression, and then tilts his head up just a little to take in the liquid.
Resting his head back on the ground, Sulu says, “Okay, that was great. I’m going to sleep now. Don’t bother me.”
“Don’t bother me if you wake up with a stiff back from lying on the ground.”
“It isn’t going to be stiff, damnit. It’s going to feel so nice. Look, look, I’m drifting… off… right… … now… Sleeping. See? Don’t bug me. ‘m so tired.”
McCoy looks at Kirk questioningly, cocking his head towards Sulu. Kirk just shrugs and uses the wall behind him to push himself back up. He walks over to the other side, near where McCoy’s book is, for convenience, mostly. He sets himself up against the wall there, and McCoy sits down next to him. Kirk accepts the glass he’s offered, and downs what he can.
“Thanks,” he finally says, having taken a few moments to get his breath back, relishing the feeling of his throat being wet again. “What were you reading?” he asks, looking down to the still-open book.
“Nothing,” McCoy says. Kirk just gives him a look that says, Yeah, I can see that, and McCoy shrugs and ducks his head. “Just some old methods of practicing surgery on humans. You know, real outdated crap but with limited supplies I…” He waves his hand over the cavern in frustration. “None of you have been hurt all that badly yet, but if it comes down to it I want to make sure I can just… do it. Okay?”
“Why are you getting so defensive?” Kirk says, voice rougher than it should be. “You’re embarrassed about reading up on how to heal? That’s better than torturing, isn’t it?”
McCoy glares at him, and it isn’t a sign of their banter; it’s a sign that Kirk has pushed one of his buttons. Kirk matches him, and then pushes it further. “I mean, you’d rather know how to fix one of us up than to ensure the most painful revenge you can conceive of, right? You’d rather help us than hurt them, right?”
It remains silent for a while, neither relenting from the aggressive eye contact, until McCoy is the first to close his eyes and sigh. His head drops, messy and unkempt hair falling across his forehead in strands. Underneath his shirt he fingers the necklace he always wears, consisting of nothing but a thin string laced through tiny holes punctured into a set of thumb bones.
Only Kirk has ever really seen the necklace before, much less knows what’s there; that the bones are of Vulcan origin; how Bones obtained them, why he felt it necessary. Kirk stares at the spot a little below the shirt collar, and he can see the outlines if he actually looks for them.
The silence is awkward and Bones clearly isn’t all mentally there right now, so Jim is the first to swallow his pride and say, “Thanks, though.” When Bones sharply looks up at him, he finds Jim to be the one now staring at the ground. “For, uh, you know. Working. To help us. Any way you can. I know you’re limited, and I-we appreciate it.” He clears his throat. “So thanks.”
McCoy lets it stay silent a few moments longer, before he, too, relents. “You’re welcome,” he says, voice soft in intensity, but rough around the edges from stress. “I’d just… rather not see any of the good guys get hurt.”
Jim looks back up. “You and me both,” he replies. He moves away from the wall, shifting over until he’s within reach to take Bones’ hand in his own. Bones looks back up at him as well, then down at their hands, and then he pulls his hand away.
“You find anything out there?” he asks.
Kirk blinks, bidding his memory to return. “Oh - oh, yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I got up close. There’s a section of wall, on the far end, it’s total shit. Cracks and everything, so they’ll probably want to get the security back up quickly… I saw the kid.” Bones does a small double take, narrowing his eyes at Jim, and Jim grins, lazily. “He’s old enough to do whatever you want to him, you know. We don’t have to dance around the issue.”
“So what do you intend to do?” And it’s all back to business.
“Well, the way I see it,” Kirk begins, “however old, if a child gets hurt, it’s going to get to the parents. So I just want to go back out there, and see if I can watch him some more. Maybe make a move. Sarek aside, this kid is the number one target, and I now know at least one of the places he might show up. So really I just… We’re going to play it by ear, now. The way I see it is, build up. Have Scotty and Chekov work on weaponry, have Uhura get us stuff, have you on top of your medical knowledge, and Sulu and I will gather as much information as we can. And then some. And when we learn more, we’ll see what we can do. Hell, we could blow up some lesser councilmen’s houses with their security down, just for the hell of it.”
McCoy can’t help but smirk. “And you’re going to want to figure out what to do as quickly as possible, right?”
“Well, yeah. Dispatch of Sarek, and we can move on to higher command near the old Nevada. Don’t you want that?”
“Then go to sleep,” McCoy says, pushing Kirk down. He looks over him out the tunnel as best he can. “It looks like the sky is getting darker, and I know you’re going to run right back outside as soon as it’s night, so do me a favour and at least take a nap.”
Kirk sighs and sits himself back up. “You’ll wake me up then, right?”
“When Scotty and Chekov get back,” he replies.
“Do you know when that’s gonna be?”
“Hopefully by nightfall, they said.”
“Alright then,” Kirk says, turning around and leaning against McCoy. “Too tired to get up and to go my actual bed. And we wouldn’t want my back to get hurt, now would we,” he adds on, resting his head on Bones’ lap. “Do me a favour and uncross your legs.”
-
The room is a fairly small one. It has rounded out walls, just like most of the other rooms they know, but these ones have shelves carved deeply into the rock. It’s deep because it needs to be sturdy, and there needs to be an insurance that they won’t collapse. There are further guards facing outwards, encasing all of their explosives, leaving only a small bit of room at the top to reach out and pull them up. Each has its own section, separated from the rest. Similar types are stocked together but still remain with barriers between one another, because it’s possible that the slightest jolt could set them off.
This room alone getting lit up would spell their resistance’s doom. Not only would they lose everything they’ve built and even potentially be killed in the blast - it only made sense to keep their main hideout rooms tight and compact, knit closely together for the easiest and quickest access, despite how many twists and turns it may take to get there - but it would also send up a giant, glaring flag as to where they are. They’d be stormed and killed.
Of course not every weapon is kept in one area, because that would be the opposite of making sense, but this is the biggest room and easily the scariest if one doesn’t know what one is doing. Chekov has taken the highest shelves to inspect, while Scotty remains down below, doing the best that he can without putting any pressure on his hurt ankle. It’s because of that ankle that this is the only room they’re going to check. It would be nice to have greater security and peace of mind by knowing that all of their stuff is not about to experience a delayed set-off from the earthquake, but Scotty is not in the condition to go traipsing around, and Chekov, brilliant as he may be, simply isn’t knowledgeable enough yet to recognize if some of their weaponry is going to explode or not on his own.
Scotty takes a look at the last one in his row, near the entrance of the tunnelway leading into this room, having looped around its edge. He observes it, gingerly picks up the small ball, turns it over in his hands, takes a whiff, and then sets it back down as gently as he can. “Whew,” he says. “We’re all good down here. That’s sure a relief. What about up there, how are we doin’, Chekov?”
Chekov is standing up on a small platform, also carved into the rock, above Scotty. “So far it is okay,” he answers, poking at another, slightly bumpier small ball.
Scotty sits down, gingerly lowering his right ankle to the ground in the process. He hisses slightly through his teeth as it makes contact, but then settles it. “Well that’s good,” he says. “Take your time, lad. Be sure.” He pauses, noting the silence, and then adds on, “Boy, we sure were lucky, eh? Absolutely nothing in danger over here. We really came out the winners in this one. Isn’t it exciting?”
Above him, Chekov makes a non-committal noise. Scotty cocks his head to hear him, but it would sound as those the boy has nothing left to add. “C’mon, Chekov, what was that?”
“I am trying,” Chekov says, “to check on the bombs.” He shifts over a tad, but he still has at least a dozen to inspect. “Please,” he says, quietly, and leaves it at that, the be quiet left hanging in the air, unspoken.
A concept that Scotty certainly isn’t used to, nor is he a fan of. But the kid does have a point; if he needs to concentrate, then he needs to concentrate. Scotty really wants to help him get over his personal issues, to feel more comfortable, more like he’s doing something, but the sad fact is that in this world, it’s more important to ensure that they’re physically fit to go and their environmental conditions are ideal before they can even hope to work on the mental problems. Chekov’s personal needs have to be pushed aside for the greater good, that is, making sure that they aren’t all about to go soaring, sky high, bodies ripped limb from limb in a massive explosion. And it’s definitely true that Scotty’s own need for talk and laughter is on the lowest rung of the ladder.
So he sits there instead, staring at the other end of the small room - this really has to be the highest concentration of explosives within an absolutely massive radius - and twiddling his thumbs. He’d bounce his ankle along a little to test it, if he didn’t already know that doing that would hurt like hell. He looks up above him, seeing Chekov progress slowly, shifting along the little shelf meant for humans to stand on as he does so, stooping over so his head doesn’t collide with the roof.
Scotty isn’t sure how long it takes, but eventually, Chekov says, “Everything is good up here,” and starts to make his way back down to ground level.
Scotty grins at this, waiting for the kid to come down so he can help him back up and serve as his crutch when they make their way back to the war room, where McCoy probably still is. “That’s great,” he says. “You did a great job. Thank you.”
Chekov touches back down on the ground. His back is towards Scotty initially, but he turns around, and walks over to him, extending his hand to help him up. “You have not seen any of the bombs I checked,” he says. “How do you know I did a good job?”
Scotty accepts the hand and pulls himself up. He slings an arm around Chekov’s shoulders, and Chekov takes the hand in his own. “Because I trust you,” he says, lifting his injured foot off of the ground. “I know you’re doing a good job. Ready?”
Chekov doesn’t answer vocally, just takes a hesitant step forward that Scotty, watching Chekov’s feet, is ready for. Chekov just stares straight ahead while Scotty moves his own gaze up to look at Chekov’s face. He sees the kid’s eyes, staring intently ahead of him, completely focused on moving forwards.
From the way he doesn’t respond at all, Scotty can only assume that Chekov is completely uncomfortable with the statement. It really isn’t that good of a thing if he can’t accept the idea that he’s trusted, and Scotty is damned if he’ll let this entire walk back be a silent one.
So, “Hey,” he says, “I bet Sulu will be back by now. That’ll be nice to see, yeah?”
There’s no answer, and recalling their conversation from earlier, Scotty can see why. So he adds on, “He’s probably feeling a lot better right now. You’ll see, he’ll be really happy to see you again.”
“I do not want to see him,” Chekov mutters, and due to their close capacity, Scotty is able to hear the words, only just barely.
It catches him off guard enough that it takes a moment before he’s even able to remember how to form words with his mouth, and he asks, “Why not?” Because a Chekov that doesn’t want to see a Sulu is extremely far from a good thing, and they really can’t afford to get into personal fights, and they’re supposed to be so close, anyway. When there’s no answer, he presses further. “You two are still friends, right?”
“I do not know,” Chekov says again, so simply, refusing to elaborate. And Scotty refuses to take that as just an answer.
“Come on now,” he says, his voice warm and compassionate but a little forceful. “He definitely doesn’t hate you. Why else would you not want to see him?”
“Wait,” Chekov says, stopping. Scotty appreciates the warning and stops as well, his bad leg hanging midair, his good one keeping him standing, along with the human crutch known as Chekov. Well, the physical crutch; emotionally it would seem that he’s the crutch. Scotty wonders if Sulu has ever had to do this with the kid in all of the years they’ve known each other.
They stand there for several moments before Chekov finally says, “I do not hate Hikaru.” Before Scotty even really gets the chance to open his mouth to ask him to continue, Chekov supplies him on his own, for once; something that can only be a good sign in his opinion.
“I am afraid of him,” Chekov says. “We are going to start walking again.”
Scotty’s foot drags and he stumbles before regaining his balance as quickly as he can to avoid toppling over, and flipping Chekov over his own shoulders while he’s at it. The sudden movement after such a long rest caught him off guard enough to divert his mind away from the actual words spoken, until he remembers them.
“You’re afraid of Sulu?” Chekov gives a short, terse nod, and keeps on looking only ahead. “Why?”
“It was scary,” Chekov says, after a small hesitation.
“What was?” He isn’t going to stop trying to pry information out. Until Chekov is comfortable with actually talking to people, he’s going to keep on pushing him; he’s decided that it’s his new project. If the two have to work so closely together in order to build their weapons, then they’re going to need to have an easy-speaking relationship.
“His face,” Chekov provides. “His body. Him. When he-When he broke the security shields. I had already disabled them, but he just… he just… He picked up this big rock, and he, he could have hurt me. I have never-I have known Hikaru, for fourteen years, and never before have I seen him look so… angry. His eyes were… He was hurt, and there was blood, but he… destroyed it.” Chekov takes a deep breath, but continues to walk, having them approach the war room. As they continue his voice becomes quieter. “He has always been so nice, and so friendly. And last night, I think, he could have killed me.”
They aren’t all that far off now, and Scotty just wants to know if anyone else even heard that, because it’s basically a guarantee that this is the first time Chekov has spoken about the subject. And from the amount he said, it’s clear that he’d been thinking about it for a while now, as well.
“That was just an extreme,” Scotty says, lowering his own voice. “You know that Sulu isn’t always like that. It happened once, but there is no reason to be afraid of him. He would never hurt you.”
Chekov shakes his head. “You were not there,” he says. “He could have. And I have never seen anybody that angry before, ever. Not you or anybody…”
Scotty cracks a small grin at that. “Aye, well, that’s because I don’t get angry,” he says. “Things are going well, remember? No reason to get angry. Trust me like I trust you when I say that it was just a rare extreme. I’ve seen others get really angry before, too, but hardly ever. There’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of.”
“Who?” Chekov asks. “Who else has gotten that angry?”
“Well, I’ve known Kirk for about half as long as you’ve known Sulu, and only once I’ve ever seen him ready to tear anything in front of him to shreds before,” Scotty says. “An’ he yelled at me, a lot. But I’m not afraid of him, and he’s not afraid of me, and we’re still friends. You’ll see,” he says, judging that they’re over halfway there now, “everything will be just fine.”
-
When Uhura comes back down through the tunnel, she’s greeted by one of the last sights she ever really expected to see. Sulu is flopped over far away from her and off to the side, while right in front of her, she sees a passed out Kirk, his head resting in McCoy’s lap. McCoy is sitting forwards, leaning over, his head bent down. All three have their eyes shut, and Kirk and McCoy are snoring softly, Kirk’s head turning just a little in what must be some sort of attempt to bury his nose into McCoy’s stomach.
She snickers softly to herself, taking one last look behind her at the dark blue sky, stars starting to come out and decorate it, a few clouds here and there obscuring them. She turns back around, creeping down as quietly as she can, not wanting to disturb the scene at all, if not for her own personal amusement, then for the fact that the three of them could probably use the sleep. She sets up her own personal little camp in the middle, in between both groups, placing her bag down on the ground and sorting through it, starting to remove different items.
McCoy is the first to wake, his head slowly rising and eyes blinking blearily. He rubs a hand across them, trying to see Uhura clearly. “You back?”
“Yup,” she says softly. “You want me to disturb them or…?”
“No,” McCoy says, looking down at Kirk, his nose now digging into his gut. “They really need to sleep. And if Kirk wakes up then he’s just going to run right out there on his idiotic plans…”
“Oh?” Uhura asks. “What’s up now? Anything I can do?”
“Depends on what you brought,” McCoy says. “I can’t really move here, so if you wouldn’t mind sharing…”
“Food,” Uhura says, holding a few vegetables in her hands. “These and some bread and fruit and nuts and I don’t have any on me right now, but I know where to get some meat, and we all know how rare that is, so tell me I’m good.” She dips back into her bag. “No, you really do have to tell me I’m good,” she continues, emerging with a thick white roll and tossing it at McCoy. “Tenser bandages. That’s one wrap of about seven. And I have some cooling creams, some antibiotics, a few other goodies…”
“You’re the best,” McCoy says, reaching up to catch the bandage. “This is incredible,” he says, turning it over in his hands, just staring at it as though that would make it even more real.
“You are better than the best,” Sulu pipes up from the other side, yawning and rubbing at his own eyes. He lays there for a moment before sitting up, and then crawling over to Uhura. “Wow. How do you do it?”
Uhura smiles at him. “Hey there. A life lived out on the streets is how, but I could probably teach you one day.”
“That’d be great,” Sulu says, grabbing a handful of nuts. “Your skills and talent surely go unmatched.”
“How are you feeling?” McCoy asks from his position, where he remains trapped in place by Kirk’s lumpy form.
Sulu looks up over at him. “So much better,” he says. “I really needed that, and these,” he adds on, picking at the nuts and slowly chewing a few. “How are you?”
“I’m not asking to get personal, I’m asking to check in on your health,” McCoy quietly snaps. Kirk rolls over in his sleep, his face now turned away from McCoy’s stomach, and he breathes again. “Christ, pressed right up against me, probably drooling,” he growls, rubbing at his shirt. “Nobody wake him.”
“No, somebody should wake him,” Uhura says. “I’ve got my biggest prizes left for you guys, not to mention the fact that I should really go over the outlines of Sarek’s house with him, so we can figure something out. We haven’t had that chance yet.” She stares directly at McCoy, initiating a strong eye contact. “He’ll know when he can’t run around anymore. He’s right, we need to act quickly.”
McCoy huffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine, but we should remember that rushing headfirst into things is the exact opposite strategy of what we’ve been doing for all these years; and might I remind you that it’s what we’ve been doing that’s kept us from-“
“We’re back!” Scotty’s voice calls through one of the tunnelways, hitting the main cavern’s walls and bouncing all around them. “And we aren’t in danger of being blown to smithereens!” Kirk sits up like a rocket at the sound, and McCoy jumps up nearly as quickly, both startled and the latter appreciating the chance to stretch his legs a little. Sulu covers his ears and turns away as Chekov helps Scotty through, while Uhura is the only one to actually look up at them and grin.
“Great!” she says, smiling broadly. “Then that means we’ve got good news all around. Come here, come here, we might be able to make your ankle heal up faster now.”
Scotty hops over with Chekov’s help, and with both his and Uhura’s help, he’s lowered down to the ground. He bends his left knee up and outstretches his right leg, raising it above the ground and waiting for McCoy to come over so he can have a better look. Chekov looks at Sulu, but he remains silent. Sulu catches him just before he looks away but doesn’t say anything either, casting his eyes downwards and at Scotty’s ankle instead. They’ll have more time later.
Kirk yawns and stretches. “Hey,” he says, “maybe I was just dreaming, but I swore I heard something about goodies. And Uhura never uses the word ‘goodies’, so these must be especially good. We don’t all need to watch Scotty, do we? Come on, I want to see what else there is!”
“You’re too excitable,” McCoy mutters, peeling off the old bandage on the ankle. “Hmm, swelling’s gone down a lot,” he mutters to himself, “that’s great progress… I’m gonna see what I’ve got to work with now, can probably get you up and walking within a matter of days…”
“I’ll say,” Uhura says. “Just three more things, and even I can’t believe I found them. In fact, it was probably only because of the earthquake that I was able to get anywhere near them, but-Here, take a look at this.”
She reaches into her bag and then pulls out what is unmistakably a weapon, just not the kind they’re used to dealing with. Typically they use explosives, because they can make a lot of those, they cause great destruction, and they’re highly impersonal, increasing their chances of not getting caught. On the downside, it’s harder for them to directly defend themselves with them, but just this one small object may have completely changed the game. The only other thing they really have is Sulu’s sword, and that’s something so impractical for what they do that it never gets utilized. This, however, is likely to be used a great deal.
“That’s a phaser,” Kirk gawks. He leans in closer, unconsciously reaching out for it. “Holy shit. That’s an actual phaser.”
“Does it work?” Sulu asks.
“It’s a fucking phaser,” Kirk repeats, eyes completely zoned in on the object in question, lost in his own world.
“You want it?” Uhura asks.
“Do I-Yes!” Kirk says, snatching it from her hand. He turns it over in his own excitedly, taking a look at it from all angles. “I could be an assassin now,” he says. “I could look a Vulcan straight in the eyes and then cleanly take him out. Uhura, this is the best thing I have ever gotten. I love you. I could kiss you.”
Uhura’s smile fades. “Please don’t,” she says, grimacing slightly. “I’m happy that you’re happy, but let’s not go too far. And Hikaru,” at this she turns towards him, “I’m pretty sure it works. I have something else here that I definitely know works, because I actually got the chance to test it out myself. I know that guns with bullets are really outdated, but-“
“-They can still kill things,” Sulu finishes for her, taking the semiautomatic out of her hands and holding it upwards to look at it in his own. “Is it loaded?” he asks, in far more a composed state than Kirk could claim.
“I managed to get a few extra rounds along with it,” Uhura says, passing those over to Sulu as well. “Have fun.”
“They’re going to be acting like badasses now,” Scotty observes from where his new bandage is being applied. “And rightfully so, I should hope.”
Kirk grins at Scotty. “You damn well bet we are,” he says. And there’s no way I’m not kidnapping the Vulcan brat now. This is exactly the sort of thing we needed. This’ll rope him in, and if not… it’ll kill him. He looks the phaser over again, then looks out over it and at Sulu’s own personal weapon. The two make eye contact and Kirk gives him a small smile, one that Sulu returns.
“Well, that’s fantastic,” McCoy sarcastically says. He moves over from Scotty to Kirk. “Give me your arm. I can rebandage it now.”
As Kirk raises his arm up for McCoy, Uhura calls out, “Oh, no! Don’t waste any more materials on that.” McCoy quizzically raises an eyebrow at her while Kirk glares and she grins. “I know this wouldn’t be able to help Scotty - sorry Monty,” she gives him an apologetic nod, and Scotty just waves it off, “but this is perfect for all other types of injuries. This is where you really start singing my praises,” Uhura grins broadly, reaching into her bag and pulling out a dermal regenerator.
McCoy’s reaction is much the same as Kirk’s upon seeing the phaser, gawking as he says, “That’s a-It’s a dermal regenerator. No. No fucking way. That’s a-It’s real, right? I haven’t-The last one I saw-I broke it, back when I-Before-That is a dermal regenerator.” Kirk snickers beside him, already working on pulling off the awful bandages.
“So maybe,” Uhura says, handing it over, “while you’re working on fixing him up, we can all go over the perimeter of Sarek’s house together.”
Word Count: ~8000
Fandom: Star Trek
Characters/Pairings: ensemble; eventual Kirk/Spock
Summary: Prompted by st_xi_kink, here: AU. Twenty-seven years ago, Earth initiated war with Vulcan. Twenty-five years ago, the Vulcans won. Twenty-four years ago, humans became their slaves. Three years ago, Jim Kirk met Leonard McCoy. Today, they - among others - are wanted for their roles in the resistance.
Notes/Warnings: Sincerely hoping to update faster than this as a norm, for the record. Lots of love to everyone who has commented and come back thus far; you have no idea how encouraging it really is. And no real warnings for this chapter.
One | Two | Three | Four
“Hey, be careful,” Kirk says, grabbing Sulu’s arm to stop him from falling. A few dislodged pebbles make their way down the large hill, their bounces audible only to the two of them. Kirk stares after them with interest while Sulu just looks skyward, shutting his eyes and parting his lips slightly, part exasperation, part exhaustion, and part a plea to any listening deities to remove the pain afflicting his body. “Seriously, we can’t have you getting any more banged up.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sulu mutters, gently lowering his body. His fingers gingerly scrape against the rocky hillside as he touches down, sitting. He’d stretch his legs out if that action wasn’t going to make the pain that much worse. “Fuck, I’m thirsty.”
“And sleepy.”
“Oh, sorry. How long have you been up for, James?” Sulu snipes, but much of the bite is lost in the panting he’s doing. Kirk directs a glare towards him in response, but Sulu’s eyes are still turned skyward. The sun is much too high overhead for either of them to really be comfortable with, and it’s really rather hot.
With both injuries and reality catching up to them, the trek back to their hideout has taken far longer than either would have figured. Sulu’s entire body is still stiff and he hasn’t slept in hours. Kirk is in much of the same boat, only his cut arm is aggravating and painful, and it’s itchy and the makeshift bandage isn’t helping anything. Worse yet, he can’t remove it because they’re too far away from anywhere that could possibly be construed as safe; not to mention the fact that they’re limited on supplies as it is and he already has to deal with the possibility of infection simply due to scarcity; worse yet, Bones would kill him.
Not that he won’t want to if he ever tells him the full scope of the ideas putting themselves together in his mind. Things that he’ll have to keep extremely quiet.
There is a blessing. By taking the long way, they avoid much of the Vulcanized San Francisco, allowing them to evade capture for… hopefully, the entire return journey. Furthermore, by descending partway down one of the rocky hills that serve as a makeshift, half-assed nature-provided barrier between inhabitable ground and ocean, they really decrease their chances of being spotted. No enemy is going to come this close for a relaxing walk in order to do whatever it is Vulcans do with their spare time. If they even have any. Which they probably don’t. Because they’re too busy torturing other species and making sure that they stay enslaved.
It isn’t a good idea to get worked up right now. Not with the sun high enough in the sky to indicate it being midday, and blazing straight down on them, far too hot and far too easy to doze off in or get dehydrated in or whatever. Not when they need to be at their peaks both mentally and physically.
“… Twenty-four hours,” Jim finally replies, sitting down next to Hikaru. “That’s gotta be way less time than you. Leave me alone. Never,” pant, “should’ve brought you along.” Breathe. “Bones was right.”
Hikaru takes a few deep breaths in fairly quick succession. “Right,” he says, “because clearly, you’d manage so well,” pant, “on your own. With the. Sun. And. You,” the tone becomes accusatory before he changes direction, “I’m not the one slowing you down, I’m the one keeping you going.”
It’s totally silent as the two stop talking, concentrating on breathing. Jim stares down into the shallow valley while Hikaru finally opens his eyes and lowers his head and gazes out across the ocean, glittering with the sun’s reflection. It’s too hot out and Kirk is right, Hikaru has been up for longer, or at least that’s what it feels like. And he could really use some water.
After a few long moments, Jim says, “I probably didn’t think this part through.”
Hikaru gives a strangled half-laugh, very faint and very obscured by his nostrils flaring as he struggles to not loll his head back, lest he completely collapse. “Yeah.”
“Bones was right.”
“Probably.”
Jim gives his brain a bit of space, trying to clear the heat from it in order to think properly. He eventually stands back up, pushing himself off of the ground with his legs and grasping a dirt holding with his left hand as he does so. He lightly nudges Sulu with his foot. “Come on, we need to keep going.”
Hikaru moans and blinks rapidly, but he extends his hand, and Jim helps pull him up without sending them both rolling downhill. He shifts his feet around a bit, making sure that he’s okay. Jim still hasn’t let go of his hand and he’s started to walk, leading Hikaru along the narrow trail that’s going to be difficult to walk along, but it’s also the safest way for them to get back.
They’ll probably need to descend even further, probably be forced to enter through the passageway right next to the bay, and not one of the ones that simply pops up out of a hill like a gigantic gopher hole. And it would be nice if they could get back some time before the sun sets. Because it’s still a ways away. At least, Hikaru thinks, glancing behind him, it looks like we’ve actually covered a lot of ground already. That’s… good.
Jim seems to have the same idea, and he looks over his shoulder to engage his friend in eye contact. While still walking. “I didn’t think this through, but that doesn’t mean I won’t think the next one through. I think I know what we’re doing next.”
“Please keep your eyes on the path,” Hikaru whimpers.
“I’m still glad we did this though,” Jim says, turning back around. “It was important.”
“Was it so important that you had to drag me out to see it?”
“I find visualizations very useful; I thought you might, too.” Jim carefully places one foot in front of the other, then steps to the right, pressing himself closer to the wall and pulling Hikaru forward all in the same motion. With the trail widening now and even further up ahead, there’s enough room for the two of them to walk side by side. “Don’t tell me you didn’t like that.”
“I’ll talk to you when we get back,” Hikaru says, staring at his feet, covered by very worn and yet surprisingly sturdy and reliable running shoes. “It wasn’t worth it if we end up-“
Kirk shakes his head. “No. Nope. We’re not letting ourselves think that way. We’re winning this thing. We’re not going down just when it’s getting started.”
Hikaru huffs. His chest burns and his limbs are sluggish and don’t really feel like they’re a part of him, and he has no idea how his leader can keep himself going despite the exhaustion and the blood loss and everything. (In reality, Jim is only slightly better off; he’s just better at hiding it.) “Getting started?”
Kirk stops in his tracks. Sulu, sensing this motion, stops just a little ahead of him. He turns around to look his leader in the eyes, and is met with one of the most serious stares he’s ever seen on anyone, human or Vulcan.
“I need to know that you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone else.”
The gravity in the tone is enough to wake Sulu up completely. Stupor gone and fog lifting from his mind, he looks straight back at Kirk. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. He tilts his head, giving the slightest of nods.
“Not even Chekov. Not McCoy. Nobody.”
Sulu nods again.
“Because they’ll probably think I’m crazy for thinking of this.”
“Everyone already knows that you’re crazy,” Sulu points out.
Kirk’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest, which is actually a little scary. What follows chills him, as he says, “Then they’ll hate me. If I go through with this, they’ll tear me apart. Physically.” There’s a beat, and then, “Probably.”
They all have their self-esteem issues; it’s a little difficult to live in captivity with very few, if any, freedoms, enslaved to an entirely different species that considers itself superior in every single way, and come out totally fine and well-adjusted. But never would any of them - or Sulu, at least - ever think that the others would want to kill them. There are only six of them. Maybe there are more elsewhere, maybe not. But they can’t really afford to lose anyone, let alone their leader, of all people. For chrissake, McCoy is their unofficial second-in-command, and he never even leaves the damn hideout.
So this is either really, really bad, or Kirk has amazing control over his body language, and he’s totally fucking around with him.
“I really doubt-“
“You weren’t here for it,” Kirk says. “Actually, you were busy being… yeah.” Sulu’s fists reflexively clench at that, and he can feel anger running through his veins again at the mere mention of being stuffed in a box like a useless object to be tucked away into storage, but he just tries to focus on his breathing and Kirk’s words instead. “But before you were rescued and Uhura got the two of you back to us. I suggested-Well, Bones suggested that we kidnap the kid. He was trying to make a point about how hopeless the situation would be if it was too young, but I took it and nobody else thought it was really-“
Here Kirk stops himself, taking a breath, trying to centre himself and stop the nonsensical rambling. “Bones and Scotty agreed that even attempting a kidnapping would be ridiculous. But you saw the wall; you saw how easy it would be to get in, providing security remains down. The problem is that he’s fully grown, so immobilizing him would be difficult. But possible, I’m sure. And if we could take him back, keep him immobilized-I’m doing it again.
“It was a joke. A far-fetched suggestion. And I’m taking it seriously. I want to bring Sarek’s fully-grown son back to our hideout and keep him there. And I know that it sounds completely ridiculous. But I’m going to do it. And… I’m going to need help.”
Sulu absorbs the words, taking them all in and processing their meanings. “So you know that this is a bad idea, but you’re going to do it anyway.”
“Yeah. I’m starting to work out logistics in my head. We’ll need luck, and we’ll need resources, but it can-“
“You’re saying ‘we.’ Why? Do you expect me to endorse you?”
Kirk looks down into the valley, then turns to the rocky wall right next to him and starts drawing in the dust. “I was hoping you would. I figure you’re the most likely one to come out and do it, and the least likely one to object. Look, we can do this at night, go this shorter route, and right when it gets dark blow it up and, it won’t be enough to take down the steel walls, but the brick one-“
Sulu swats at Kirk’s arm, pulling his hand away from his dirt sketch. “Stop that. This is crazy. You don’t even know what you’re doing-“
“I’m working on it, I said I was still sorting everything out in my head, I’m trying to give a sales pitch here-“
“And you didn’t even say what we’d be doing with him if we can even pull this off. If.”
At this, Kirk falls silent. He looks back at his rectangles and arrows, and then brushes them off, removing the dust they were lightly sketched into and effectively erasing the mess. “That’s because… I don’t really know, yet. That part I would-we would-play by ear.”
Sulu stares blankly at his leader, not entirely sure if he’s even hearing this right or interpreting the information correctly.
“Okay!” he says. “I’m officially too tired, and I’m getting heat stroke, because I’m not hearing you properly anymore. Let’s go back now, please.” And with that, he turns his back on Kirk, walking away from him.
“Wait,” Kirk says, reaching out and grabbing Sulu’s wrist. Sulu pulls his way out of the weak grasp, and keeps on going. Kirk starts moving to catch up with him, and works on keeping pace while he continues, “Just because I don’t know right at this moment doesn’t mean I won’t in the future. A lot of it is going to depend on his reaction to being kidnapped, obviously, but maybe we can turn him.”
Sulu snorts, not even dignifying his older friend with a look as he keeps going. Kirk sighs and speeds up, cutting Sulu off and standing directly in front of him. He makes to grasp his shoulders and hold him in place. “And if not, then we can just kill him. Plain and simple. But I’m sure they have great technology - I mean, look at what we can cook up - and will be able to tell if someone’s still alive or not. So. If we can find a way to secure him, then we can cut him up, bit by bit, and get Uhura to leave body parts right on Sarek’s door step. Start with a toe. Then two toes. Then a whole damn foot, then the other foot, half of the shin, the kneecaps, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything. And if we keep him alive, it’s gotta be complete torture, and with no escape, too. Come on. Come on. That’s some great bloodlust right there, yeah? Yeah, it is. It’s something. It’s better than letting this go. Hikaru, come on, I know you’ve got me on this. You’ve got me, right? You know what I’m talking about? Hikaru, please…”
In truth, Hikaru had phased out Kirk’s words at some point after the amputation suggestion. The mental image of a helpless Vulcan; finally, one of them being helpless, is a beauty. Crude - because hey, they can’t promise to prevent infection or anything, they live in the dirt - awkward cuts, staining their ground with green blood as body parts are separated and chucked right at fucking Sarek is something that would really lift spirits.
And because it’s a fully-grown one, from the sounds of it, it wouldn’t necessarily make them monsters. No children would be hurt. And it’s just an unjust war. And they’re already the victims. He’s already the victim.
It’s really only fair.
“Hikaru?”
Hikaru snaps out of it, then grasps Jim’s shoulders in his own hands. “You’re going to plan this out better, right?”
Jim sighs in relief. “Yeah. Oh, fuck, yes, I will. You don’t have to worry about a thing, just not breathing a word of this to anyone else and then approving my plan when I’ve got it. I’m not rushing into this. We’re going to do more spying, and I’ll come up with something foolproof. And if I can’t, then we won’t do it. Simple as that.
“We aren’t going to find ourselves out here with the sun directly overhead again. Not with a body to bring back with us. I promise.”
Hikaru squeezes Jim’s shoulders, pulling them closer together, bowing his head into Jim’s so that their foreheads are touching, and then he grins.
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m in. I’ll help you out.”
Jim’s smile matches his, excited and venomous, and then he pulls back, turning around and proceeding along with Sulu. He pats him on the back as they continue to make their way. “I knew I could count on you for this. I’m so fucking glad we’ve got you.”
-
The sky is starting to change colours by the time they reach the bay and the entranceway they have back into their hideout. It’s one of the bigger ones, since it’s mostly a safe assumption that no Vulcan is going to travel out this far to be this close to a large body of water. It’s inconspicuous, too. From the start it looks like a normal cave, plunging into the rock right next to the bay. It goes in deep and gets narrower and narrower as it does, to the point that crawling is a necessity, before it suddenly opens up in the war room.
Sulu goes in first, not comfortable with the enclosed space and needing encouragement from behind to keep him going. If he freezes up and gets stuck, then he’s trapped Kirk as well. It’s a strong enough motivation - he’d rather have himself die than anyone else with him, they all would - to push him through.
At which point he rolls out of the way, collapsing on his back and not getting up.
Kirk follows him out, standing on wobbly legs. “Hey,” he weakly lifts an arm to McCoy, “where’s everyone else?”
McCoy looks up from one of his old books, angled just right to catch the sunlight. “Scotty and Chekov went to check up on the bombs and shit,” he says. “Where’s Uhura?”
“Glad to see you were so concerned about why we were taking so long to get back,” Sulu mutters to himself. He goes unheard.
“She isn’t back yet? Oh… She said she was gonna stay out longer to get more stuff for us. She’s probably fine,” Kirk answers.
McCoy shifts and then stands, leaving the book as he walks over to meet them. He stoops over Sulu first. “Of course she is. I trust her,” he says, pulling Sulu’s arm up towards him. “You two, on the other hand,” McCoy continues, noting the limpness, “I don’t. Do you feel okay?”
“I’m really thirsty,” Sulu mumbles, turning his head to look up at McCoy. “And sleepy. So sleepy. Just let me lie down right here, please. If I die don’t mind me, just toss my corpse out into the ocean, it’s totally cool.” He shuts his eyes. “So much water there. Do it at night, it’s too hot out…”
McCoy lowers the arm back down to the ground, shaking his head. “So basically, neither of you are bleeding.”
“Aren’t you proud?” Kirk asks, finally sitting down, near Sulu’s feet, and resting his back up against the wall. He leans his head back into it. “Water would be awesome though. Thanks.”
“I don’t really like either of you, you know,” McCoy says, rising. “I’ll get you your damn water and then you’re going to talk.”
Kirk smiles. “You’ll make a great interrogator some day, you know,” he says, voice only half-there. McCoy doesn’t respond either because he didn’t hear him or because he just doesn’t care enough to bother. Probably the first one, Kirk thinks.
After a few seconds, Sulu pipes up, “Wait, he’s going to interrogate him?”
“Shut up,” Kirk mutters. “Seriously, if you’re going to be this out of it, don’t say anything. Just think about how you’re underground now.”
“Mmmm,” Sulu smiles, and with his eyes still shut, it’s actually rather adorable. “That’s fucking awesome. This is so fucking awesome,” he mumbles to himself, and it looks like he’s about to fall asleep until-
“Drink,” McCoy snaps, nudging Sulu’s torso with his foot and holding a simple cup to his lips. Sulu blearily opens his eyes, looks at McCoy’s no nonsense expression, and then tilts his head up just a little to take in the liquid.
Resting his head back on the ground, Sulu says, “Okay, that was great. I’m going to sleep now. Don’t bother me.”
“Don’t bother me if you wake up with a stiff back from lying on the ground.”
“It isn’t going to be stiff, damnit. It’s going to feel so nice. Look, look, I’m drifting… off… right… … now… Sleeping. See? Don’t bug me. ‘m so tired.”
McCoy looks at Kirk questioningly, cocking his head towards Sulu. Kirk just shrugs and uses the wall behind him to push himself back up. He walks over to the other side, near where McCoy’s book is, for convenience, mostly. He sets himself up against the wall there, and McCoy sits down next to him. Kirk accepts the glass he’s offered, and downs what he can.
“Thanks,” he finally says, having taken a few moments to get his breath back, relishing the feeling of his throat being wet again. “What were you reading?” he asks, looking down to the still-open book.
“Nothing,” McCoy says. Kirk just gives him a look that says, Yeah, I can see that, and McCoy shrugs and ducks his head. “Just some old methods of practicing surgery on humans. You know, real outdated crap but with limited supplies I…” He waves his hand over the cavern in frustration. “None of you have been hurt all that badly yet, but if it comes down to it I want to make sure I can just… do it. Okay?”
“Why are you getting so defensive?” Kirk says, voice rougher than it should be. “You’re embarrassed about reading up on how to heal? That’s better than torturing, isn’t it?”
McCoy glares at him, and it isn’t a sign of their banter; it’s a sign that Kirk has pushed one of his buttons. Kirk matches him, and then pushes it further. “I mean, you’d rather know how to fix one of us up than to ensure the most painful revenge you can conceive of, right? You’d rather help us than hurt them, right?”
It remains silent for a while, neither relenting from the aggressive eye contact, until McCoy is the first to close his eyes and sigh. His head drops, messy and unkempt hair falling across his forehead in strands. Underneath his shirt he fingers the necklace he always wears, consisting of nothing but a thin string laced through tiny holes punctured into a set of thumb bones.
Only Kirk has ever really seen the necklace before, much less knows what’s there; that the bones are of Vulcan origin; how Bones obtained them, why he felt it necessary. Kirk stares at the spot a little below the shirt collar, and he can see the outlines if he actually looks for them.
The silence is awkward and Bones clearly isn’t all mentally there right now, so Jim is the first to swallow his pride and say, “Thanks, though.” When Bones sharply looks up at him, he finds Jim to be the one now staring at the ground. “For, uh, you know. Working. To help us. Any way you can. I know you’re limited, and I-we appreciate it.” He clears his throat. “So thanks.”
McCoy lets it stay silent a few moments longer, before he, too, relents. “You’re welcome,” he says, voice soft in intensity, but rough around the edges from stress. “I’d just… rather not see any of the good guys get hurt.”
Jim looks back up. “You and me both,” he replies. He moves away from the wall, shifting over until he’s within reach to take Bones’ hand in his own. Bones looks back up at him as well, then down at their hands, and then he pulls his hand away.
“You find anything out there?” he asks.
Kirk blinks, bidding his memory to return. “Oh - oh, yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I got up close. There’s a section of wall, on the far end, it’s total shit. Cracks and everything, so they’ll probably want to get the security back up quickly… I saw the kid.” Bones does a small double take, narrowing his eyes at Jim, and Jim grins, lazily. “He’s old enough to do whatever you want to him, you know. We don’t have to dance around the issue.”
“So what do you intend to do?” And it’s all back to business.
“Well, the way I see it,” Kirk begins, “however old, if a child gets hurt, it’s going to get to the parents. So I just want to go back out there, and see if I can watch him some more. Maybe make a move. Sarek aside, this kid is the number one target, and I now know at least one of the places he might show up. So really I just… We’re going to play it by ear, now. The way I see it is, build up. Have Scotty and Chekov work on weaponry, have Uhura get us stuff, have you on top of your medical knowledge, and Sulu and I will gather as much information as we can. And then some. And when we learn more, we’ll see what we can do. Hell, we could blow up some lesser councilmen’s houses with their security down, just for the hell of it.”
McCoy can’t help but smirk. “And you’re going to want to figure out what to do as quickly as possible, right?”
“Well, yeah. Dispatch of Sarek, and we can move on to higher command near the old Nevada. Don’t you want that?”
“Then go to sleep,” McCoy says, pushing Kirk down. He looks over him out the tunnel as best he can. “It looks like the sky is getting darker, and I know you’re going to run right back outside as soon as it’s night, so do me a favour and at least take a nap.”
Kirk sighs and sits himself back up. “You’ll wake me up then, right?”
“When Scotty and Chekov get back,” he replies.
“Do you know when that’s gonna be?”
“Hopefully by nightfall, they said.”
“Alright then,” Kirk says, turning around and leaning against McCoy. “Too tired to get up and to go my actual bed. And we wouldn’t want my back to get hurt, now would we,” he adds on, resting his head on Bones’ lap. “Do me a favour and uncross your legs.”
-
The room is a fairly small one. It has rounded out walls, just like most of the other rooms they know, but these ones have shelves carved deeply into the rock. It’s deep because it needs to be sturdy, and there needs to be an insurance that they won’t collapse. There are further guards facing outwards, encasing all of their explosives, leaving only a small bit of room at the top to reach out and pull them up. Each has its own section, separated from the rest. Similar types are stocked together but still remain with barriers between one another, because it’s possible that the slightest jolt could set them off.
This room alone getting lit up would spell their resistance’s doom. Not only would they lose everything they’ve built and even potentially be killed in the blast - it only made sense to keep their main hideout rooms tight and compact, knit closely together for the easiest and quickest access, despite how many twists and turns it may take to get there - but it would also send up a giant, glaring flag as to where they are. They’d be stormed and killed.
Of course not every weapon is kept in one area, because that would be the opposite of making sense, but this is the biggest room and easily the scariest if one doesn’t know what one is doing. Chekov has taken the highest shelves to inspect, while Scotty remains down below, doing the best that he can without putting any pressure on his hurt ankle. It’s because of that ankle that this is the only room they’re going to check. It would be nice to have greater security and peace of mind by knowing that all of their stuff is not about to experience a delayed set-off from the earthquake, but Scotty is not in the condition to go traipsing around, and Chekov, brilliant as he may be, simply isn’t knowledgeable enough yet to recognize if some of their weaponry is going to explode or not on his own.
Scotty takes a look at the last one in his row, near the entrance of the tunnelway leading into this room, having looped around its edge. He observes it, gingerly picks up the small ball, turns it over in his hands, takes a whiff, and then sets it back down as gently as he can. “Whew,” he says. “We’re all good down here. That’s sure a relief. What about up there, how are we doin’, Chekov?”
Chekov is standing up on a small platform, also carved into the rock, above Scotty. “So far it is okay,” he answers, poking at another, slightly bumpier small ball.
Scotty sits down, gingerly lowering his right ankle to the ground in the process. He hisses slightly through his teeth as it makes contact, but then settles it. “Well that’s good,” he says. “Take your time, lad. Be sure.” He pauses, noting the silence, and then adds on, “Boy, we sure were lucky, eh? Absolutely nothing in danger over here. We really came out the winners in this one. Isn’t it exciting?”
Above him, Chekov makes a non-committal noise. Scotty cocks his head to hear him, but it would sound as those the boy has nothing left to add. “C’mon, Chekov, what was that?”
“I am trying,” Chekov says, “to check on the bombs.” He shifts over a tad, but he still has at least a dozen to inspect. “Please,” he says, quietly, and leaves it at that, the be quiet left hanging in the air, unspoken.
A concept that Scotty certainly isn’t used to, nor is he a fan of. But the kid does have a point; if he needs to concentrate, then he needs to concentrate. Scotty really wants to help him get over his personal issues, to feel more comfortable, more like he’s doing something, but the sad fact is that in this world, it’s more important to ensure that they’re physically fit to go and their environmental conditions are ideal before they can even hope to work on the mental problems. Chekov’s personal needs have to be pushed aside for the greater good, that is, making sure that they aren’t all about to go soaring, sky high, bodies ripped limb from limb in a massive explosion. And it’s definitely true that Scotty’s own need for talk and laughter is on the lowest rung of the ladder.
So he sits there instead, staring at the other end of the small room - this really has to be the highest concentration of explosives within an absolutely massive radius - and twiddling his thumbs. He’d bounce his ankle along a little to test it, if he didn’t already know that doing that would hurt like hell. He looks up above him, seeing Chekov progress slowly, shifting along the little shelf meant for humans to stand on as he does so, stooping over so his head doesn’t collide with the roof.
Scotty isn’t sure how long it takes, but eventually, Chekov says, “Everything is good up here,” and starts to make his way back down to ground level.
Scotty grins at this, waiting for the kid to come down so he can help him back up and serve as his crutch when they make their way back to the war room, where McCoy probably still is. “That’s great,” he says. “You did a great job. Thank you.”
Chekov touches back down on the ground. His back is towards Scotty initially, but he turns around, and walks over to him, extending his hand to help him up. “You have not seen any of the bombs I checked,” he says. “How do you know I did a good job?”
Scotty accepts the hand and pulls himself up. He slings an arm around Chekov’s shoulders, and Chekov takes the hand in his own. “Because I trust you,” he says, lifting his injured foot off of the ground. “I know you’re doing a good job. Ready?”
Chekov doesn’t answer vocally, just takes a hesitant step forward that Scotty, watching Chekov’s feet, is ready for. Chekov just stares straight ahead while Scotty moves his own gaze up to look at Chekov’s face. He sees the kid’s eyes, staring intently ahead of him, completely focused on moving forwards.
From the way he doesn’t respond at all, Scotty can only assume that Chekov is completely uncomfortable with the statement. It really isn’t that good of a thing if he can’t accept the idea that he’s trusted, and Scotty is damned if he’ll let this entire walk back be a silent one.
So, “Hey,” he says, “I bet Sulu will be back by now. That’ll be nice to see, yeah?”
There’s no answer, and recalling their conversation from earlier, Scotty can see why. So he adds on, “He’s probably feeling a lot better right now. You’ll see, he’ll be really happy to see you again.”
“I do not want to see him,” Chekov mutters, and due to their close capacity, Scotty is able to hear the words, only just barely.
It catches him off guard enough that it takes a moment before he’s even able to remember how to form words with his mouth, and he asks, “Why not?” Because a Chekov that doesn’t want to see a Sulu is extremely far from a good thing, and they really can’t afford to get into personal fights, and they’re supposed to be so close, anyway. When there’s no answer, he presses further. “You two are still friends, right?”
“I do not know,” Chekov says again, so simply, refusing to elaborate. And Scotty refuses to take that as just an answer.
“Come on now,” he says, his voice warm and compassionate but a little forceful. “He definitely doesn’t hate you. Why else would you not want to see him?”
“Wait,” Chekov says, stopping. Scotty appreciates the warning and stops as well, his bad leg hanging midair, his good one keeping him standing, along with the human crutch known as Chekov. Well, the physical crutch; emotionally it would seem that he’s the crutch. Scotty wonders if Sulu has ever had to do this with the kid in all of the years they’ve known each other.
They stand there for several moments before Chekov finally says, “I do not hate Hikaru.” Before Scotty even really gets the chance to open his mouth to ask him to continue, Chekov supplies him on his own, for once; something that can only be a good sign in his opinion.
“I am afraid of him,” Chekov says. “We are going to start walking again.”
Scotty’s foot drags and he stumbles before regaining his balance as quickly as he can to avoid toppling over, and flipping Chekov over his own shoulders while he’s at it. The sudden movement after such a long rest caught him off guard enough to divert his mind away from the actual words spoken, until he remembers them.
“You’re afraid of Sulu?” Chekov gives a short, terse nod, and keeps on looking only ahead. “Why?”
“It was scary,” Chekov says, after a small hesitation.
“What was?” He isn’t going to stop trying to pry information out. Until Chekov is comfortable with actually talking to people, he’s going to keep on pushing him; he’s decided that it’s his new project. If the two have to work so closely together in order to build their weapons, then they’re going to need to have an easy-speaking relationship.
“His face,” Chekov provides. “His body. Him. When he-When he broke the security shields. I had already disabled them, but he just… he just… He picked up this big rock, and he, he could have hurt me. I have never-I have known Hikaru, for fourteen years, and never before have I seen him look so… angry. His eyes were… He was hurt, and there was blood, but he… destroyed it.” Chekov takes a deep breath, but continues to walk, having them approach the war room. As they continue his voice becomes quieter. “He has always been so nice, and so friendly. And last night, I think, he could have killed me.”
They aren’t all that far off now, and Scotty just wants to know if anyone else even heard that, because it’s basically a guarantee that this is the first time Chekov has spoken about the subject. And from the amount he said, it’s clear that he’d been thinking about it for a while now, as well.
“That was just an extreme,” Scotty says, lowering his own voice. “You know that Sulu isn’t always like that. It happened once, but there is no reason to be afraid of him. He would never hurt you.”
Chekov shakes his head. “You were not there,” he says. “He could have. And I have never seen anybody that angry before, ever. Not you or anybody…”
Scotty cracks a small grin at that. “Aye, well, that’s because I don’t get angry,” he says. “Things are going well, remember? No reason to get angry. Trust me like I trust you when I say that it was just a rare extreme. I’ve seen others get really angry before, too, but hardly ever. There’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of.”
“Who?” Chekov asks. “Who else has gotten that angry?”
“Well, I’ve known Kirk for about half as long as you’ve known Sulu, and only once I’ve ever seen him ready to tear anything in front of him to shreds before,” Scotty says. “An’ he yelled at me, a lot. But I’m not afraid of him, and he’s not afraid of me, and we’re still friends. You’ll see,” he says, judging that they’re over halfway there now, “everything will be just fine.”
-
When Uhura comes back down through the tunnel, she’s greeted by one of the last sights she ever really expected to see. Sulu is flopped over far away from her and off to the side, while right in front of her, she sees a passed out Kirk, his head resting in McCoy’s lap. McCoy is sitting forwards, leaning over, his head bent down. All three have their eyes shut, and Kirk and McCoy are snoring softly, Kirk’s head turning just a little in what must be some sort of attempt to bury his nose into McCoy’s stomach.
She snickers softly to herself, taking one last look behind her at the dark blue sky, stars starting to come out and decorate it, a few clouds here and there obscuring them. She turns back around, creeping down as quietly as she can, not wanting to disturb the scene at all, if not for her own personal amusement, then for the fact that the three of them could probably use the sleep. She sets up her own personal little camp in the middle, in between both groups, placing her bag down on the ground and sorting through it, starting to remove different items.
McCoy is the first to wake, his head slowly rising and eyes blinking blearily. He rubs a hand across them, trying to see Uhura clearly. “You back?”
“Yup,” she says softly. “You want me to disturb them or…?”
“No,” McCoy says, looking down at Kirk, his nose now digging into his gut. “They really need to sleep. And if Kirk wakes up then he’s just going to run right out there on his idiotic plans…”
“Oh?” Uhura asks. “What’s up now? Anything I can do?”
“Depends on what you brought,” McCoy says. “I can’t really move here, so if you wouldn’t mind sharing…”
“Food,” Uhura says, holding a few vegetables in her hands. “These and some bread and fruit and nuts and I don’t have any on me right now, but I know where to get some meat, and we all know how rare that is, so tell me I’m good.” She dips back into her bag. “No, you really do have to tell me I’m good,” she continues, emerging with a thick white roll and tossing it at McCoy. “Tenser bandages. That’s one wrap of about seven. And I have some cooling creams, some antibiotics, a few other goodies…”
“You’re the best,” McCoy says, reaching up to catch the bandage. “This is incredible,” he says, turning it over in his hands, just staring at it as though that would make it even more real.
“You are better than the best,” Sulu pipes up from the other side, yawning and rubbing at his own eyes. He lays there for a moment before sitting up, and then crawling over to Uhura. “Wow. How do you do it?”
Uhura smiles at him. “Hey there. A life lived out on the streets is how, but I could probably teach you one day.”
“That’d be great,” Sulu says, grabbing a handful of nuts. “Your skills and talent surely go unmatched.”
“How are you feeling?” McCoy asks from his position, where he remains trapped in place by Kirk’s lumpy form.
Sulu looks up over at him. “So much better,” he says. “I really needed that, and these,” he adds on, picking at the nuts and slowly chewing a few. “How are you?”
“I’m not asking to get personal, I’m asking to check in on your health,” McCoy quietly snaps. Kirk rolls over in his sleep, his face now turned away from McCoy’s stomach, and he breathes again. “Christ, pressed right up against me, probably drooling,” he growls, rubbing at his shirt. “Nobody wake him.”
“No, somebody should wake him,” Uhura says. “I’ve got my biggest prizes left for you guys, not to mention the fact that I should really go over the outlines of Sarek’s house with him, so we can figure something out. We haven’t had that chance yet.” She stares directly at McCoy, initiating a strong eye contact. “He’ll know when he can’t run around anymore. He’s right, we need to act quickly.”
McCoy huffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine, but we should remember that rushing headfirst into things is the exact opposite strategy of what we’ve been doing for all these years; and might I remind you that it’s what we’ve been doing that’s kept us from-“
“We’re back!” Scotty’s voice calls through one of the tunnelways, hitting the main cavern’s walls and bouncing all around them. “And we aren’t in danger of being blown to smithereens!” Kirk sits up like a rocket at the sound, and McCoy jumps up nearly as quickly, both startled and the latter appreciating the chance to stretch his legs a little. Sulu covers his ears and turns away as Chekov helps Scotty through, while Uhura is the only one to actually look up at them and grin.
“Great!” she says, smiling broadly. “Then that means we’ve got good news all around. Come here, come here, we might be able to make your ankle heal up faster now.”
Scotty hops over with Chekov’s help, and with both his and Uhura’s help, he’s lowered down to the ground. He bends his left knee up and outstretches his right leg, raising it above the ground and waiting for McCoy to come over so he can have a better look. Chekov looks at Sulu, but he remains silent. Sulu catches him just before he looks away but doesn’t say anything either, casting his eyes downwards and at Scotty’s ankle instead. They’ll have more time later.
Kirk yawns and stretches. “Hey,” he says, “maybe I was just dreaming, but I swore I heard something about goodies. And Uhura never uses the word ‘goodies’, so these must be especially good. We don’t all need to watch Scotty, do we? Come on, I want to see what else there is!”
“You’re too excitable,” McCoy mutters, peeling off the old bandage on the ankle. “Hmm, swelling’s gone down a lot,” he mutters to himself, “that’s great progress… I’m gonna see what I’ve got to work with now, can probably get you up and walking within a matter of days…”
“I’ll say,” Uhura says. “Just three more things, and even I can’t believe I found them. In fact, it was probably only because of the earthquake that I was able to get anywhere near them, but-Here, take a look at this.”
She reaches into her bag and then pulls out what is unmistakably a weapon, just not the kind they’re used to dealing with. Typically they use explosives, because they can make a lot of those, they cause great destruction, and they’re highly impersonal, increasing their chances of not getting caught. On the downside, it’s harder for them to directly defend themselves with them, but just this one small object may have completely changed the game. The only other thing they really have is Sulu’s sword, and that’s something so impractical for what they do that it never gets utilized. This, however, is likely to be used a great deal.
“That’s a phaser,” Kirk gawks. He leans in closer, unconsciously reaching out for it. “Holy shit. That’s an actual phaser.”
“Does it work?” Sulu asks.
“It’s a fucking phaser,” Kirk repeats, eyes completely zoned in on the object in question, lost in his own world.
“You want it?” Uhura asks.
“Do I-Yes!” Kirk says, snatching it from her hand. He turns it over in his own excitedly, taking a look at it from all angles. “I could be an assassin now,” he says. “I could look a Vulcan straight in the eyes and then cleanly take him out. Uhura, this is the best thing I have ever gotten. I love you. I could kiss you.”
Uhura’s smile fades. “Please don’t,” she says, grimacing slightly. “I’m happy that you’re happy, but let’s not go too far. And Hikaru,” at this she turns towards him, “I’m pretty sure it works. I have something else here that I definitely know works, because I actually got the chance to test it out myself. I know that guns with bullets are really outdated, but-“
“-They can still kill things,” Sulu finishes for her, taking the semiautomatic out of her hands and holding it upwards to look at it in his own. “Is it loaded?” he asks, in far more a composed state than Kirk could claim.
“I managed to get a few extra rounds along with it,” Uhura says, passing those over to Sulu as well. “Have fun.”
“They’re going to be acting like badasses now,” Scotty observes from where his new bandage is being applied. “And rightfully so, I should hope.”
Kirk grins at Scotty. “You damn well bet we are,” he says. And there’s no way I’m not kidnapping the Vulcan brat now. This is exactly the sort of thing we needed. This’ll rope him in, and if not… it’ll kill him. He looks the phaser over again, then looks out over it and at Sulu’s own personal weapon. The two make eye contact and Kirk gives him a small smile, one that Sulu returns.
“Well, that’s fantastic,” McCoy sarcastically says. He moves over from Scotty to Kirk. “Give me your arm. I can rebandage it now.”
As Kirk raises his arm up for McCoy, Uhura calls out, “Oh, no! Don’t waste any more materials on that.” McCoy quizzically raises an eyebrow at her while Kirk glares and she grins. “I know this wouldn’t be able to help Scotty - sorry Monty,” she gives him an apologetic nod, and Scotty just waves it off, “but this is perfect for all other types of injuries. This is where you really start singing my praises,” Uhura grins broadly, reaching into her bag and pulling out a dermal regenerator.
McCoy’s reaction is much the same as Kirk’s upon seeing the phaser, gawking as he says, “That’s a-It’s a dermal regenerator. No. No fucking way. That’s a-It’s real, right? I haven’t-The last one I saw-I broke it, back when I-Before-That is a dermal regenerator.” Kirk snickers beside him, already working on pulling off the awful bandages.
“So maybe,” Uhura says, handing it over, “while you’re working on fixing him up, we can all go over the perimeter of Sarek’s house together.”