Infection (Kirk/McCoy NC-17) 3/4
Master Post & Mix - Part 1 - Part 2
McCoy's on the bridge when they drop out of warp, and while most of these brown smudges of planets start to blur together in his mind, he recognizes Arkos III. It's been six weeks since their first visit when Kirk lost his arm, and McCoy hopes that's not why they've returned. Kirk should know that his arm has been lost to the elements and detritivores. Kirk also has a tendency, though, to not know that there are some scenarios he just can't win.
“You're shit out of luck if you lose the other one, Captain.”
Kirk ignores him, though, instead playing with a grid of the planet on his chair's arm console, marking various points on the surface. “Chekov, I want you to fire on these locations I've marked once you have a lock.”
“Yes, Keptin; it will take one moment.” Chekov spins in his chair to face Kirk. “Phasers or torpedos, sir?”
Kirk waves his hand magnanimously. “Whatever you wish, Lieutenant; go crazy.”
Chekov does something with the weapons programming that even impresses McCoy, getting the timing precise so he launches torpedos at the targets and augments their explosions with the phaser fire.
“I'm picking up Cardassian lifeforms fleeing the targeted areas. There are also secondary explosions suggestive of electrical fires.” Spock stays glued to his station, not even turning his neck to get a look out the view screen.
“Wait,” McCoy interrupts, putting more pieces together than he likes. “You knew the last time we were here that this was some sort of secret Cardassian outpost.”
“Of course I did, Bones; why else would I have bothered stopping by?” Kirk appears to contemplate his bionic arm for a moment. “It turns out that the Cardassian we played with was the chancellor's youngest son, and he didn't appreciate what we did with him. Our first visit to Arkos III was personal; now we can actually get some talking done.”
“Captain, we're being hailed,” Uhura calls out almost as if on cue.
“Okay, Chekov, that's enough for now.” Kirk stands, taking a wide stance in the middle of the bridge. “On screen.”
McCoy doubts the Cardassian displayed before them is any sort of chancellor, looking more like a military man than a politician, but with Cardassians it's always hard to tell.
“I want an audience with your chancellor,” Kirk says before the Cardassian even opens his mouth. “Or your base and everyone in it will be smoldering when we leave this system.”
“Why should the chancellor want to listen to you, Terran?”
McCoy may be standing off to the side, but he can still see the way Kirk's lip twitched like it's trying to pull into a sneer. If he hadn't been trying to get something from the Cardassian, the insolence normally would have resulted in Kirk commanding Chekov to resume fire.
“Because I'm going to be the next emperor, and your chancellor would rather be with me than against me.”
A heavy silence descends over the bridge. No other crew members had been let in on his and Kirk's plan, and he'd just announced it in front of all of them without a concern as to who might be getting controlled by the emperor with either money or threats.
It's quiet on the Cardassian's end, too, as he seems to consider what Kirk has said and the likelihood of it being possible. There's no way the Cardassian doesn't know who Kirk is, the man who's been the captain of the empire's flagship for six years now.
“We need to know, first, that you are an honorable warrior,” the Cardassian says. “Bring one other with you and meet at these coordinates. If you perform acceptably, you may present your proposal to the chancellor.”
The link is terminated on the Cardassian's end, but with their base burning and the increase in static during their conversation, McCoy can't tell if it had been intentional or not. Kirk doesn't give Chekov the order to continue firing as before, though. The damn fool looks more like he's considering what the Cardassian had said.
“You're not actually going down there, are you?”
“Captain, when were you to inform us of your plans for treason?”
“We've received the coordinates, Captain.”
They're talking on top of each other as Kirk continues to stare at the view screen, which is once again showing Arkos III below them only now there's black smoke filling the atmosphere on the southeast corner of the northern continent.
“The admiralty know,” Kirk begins, “that the Klingons and Cardassians have formed an alliance with the plan to takeover our empire. Because of Nero the fleet was cut in half, and the modifications to weaponize the acquired Vulcan ships beyond strictly defensive measures are taking longer than expected.”
He turns away from the screen, crossing his arms over his chest. “The admirals want this alliance to be stopped by any means necessary. Anyone uncomfortable with my strategy may be dropped off at the nearest starbase without any repercussions. Are we clear?” Kirk finishes staring directly at McCoy, the only one who knows that what he told his bridge crew is a half-truth, playing them as much as he is the admirals and soon the Cardassians.
No one says anything for long minutes, just staring at each other across the bridge until Sulu lets out a, “Yes, sir,” that is echoed by everyone else. Kirk looks smug and the crew looks too concerned with thoughts of being enslaved by Cardassians and Klingons to consider that Kirk might be lying to them.
“Good,” Kirk says, starting for the turbolift. “Sulu, you're going to be my plus one this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Sulu says with a smile that actually is grateful. There's no doubt that they're going to be beaming into bloodshed; those damn warrior races and their honorable tests of strength.
“Don't fuck up the arm. Scotty and I put a lot of work into it,” McCoy says as Kirk and Sulu step into the turbolift.
“Why, Bones, are you worried about me?” Kirk responds with a smug grin just before the doors slide shut.
McCoy gets aggravated when he realizes that he is, and not just because Kirk's death means his life will shortly end. He goes to sickbay, needing to make someone bleed and hoping one of those clumsy engineering ensigns has shown up with some wound he can aggravate before mending it.
+
They come back bruised and bloody but alive, the worst of the injuries being Sulu's left ear needing to be reattached and Kirk's dislocated jaw. The latter at least keeps McCoy from having to deal with Kirk's gloating for a bit, but there's no mistaking the glint of victory in his eyes as they head to Cardassia Prime.
Kirk leaves sickbay to check in with the bridge, seeming disappointed that he can't stay and watch McCoy fuse the shell of Sulu's ear back to his head.
“Don't run the regenerator over it after, Doc. I want to keep the scar.”
“It's your head,” McCoy replies, overly familiar with Sulu's desire to keep his battle wounds, but it doesn't make McCoy find the sentimentality any less insane. He catches himself running his thumb over the line across his own face. He has that for Kirk, not himself.
Sulu looks at him through narrow eyes, a grin that's too smug for McCoy's taste tugging at his lips. “I know the captain didn't ask for the ones you left on him.
McCoy scowls, grabbing a hypospray from the nearby tray, and hits Sulu in the neck with it harder than he needs to but it's a poor replacement for what he'd rather do to him for the comment. “It might not be a sedative next time, Lieutenant,” McCoy says before Sulu loses consciousness and falls backwards onto the biobed.
Kirk returns not even a minute later, and he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, not even questioning the fact that Sulu's sedated.
“Nurse Chapel,” Kirk says all too excitedly when he catches sight of McCoy's head nurse. “You can finish with Sulu here, right? I need to talk to Bones privately.”
Chapel, smart woman that she is, looks for McCoy's nod before stepping in and taking over. He doesn't need his nurses thinking that they can do his job.
“What the hell do you want?” McCoy asks once they get in his office with the door shut behind them.
Kirk clamps his hands on both of McCoy's shoulders, steering him backwards until the backs of his thighs hit his desk and then pushing him down to sit. Kirk sits in the chair facing McCoy, pulling it close until there's barely any space between them.
“Have to make sure you set my jaw correctly, don't I?” Kirk says, practically giddy, and McCoy isn't exactly complaining when Kirk starts to undo the knot in his sash to get it out of the way so he can unzip McCoy's pants.
“Fuck,” is all McCoy can think to say when Kirk draws McCoy's cock out of his pants.
“That's the idea,” Kirk replies, leaning forward to lick a hot stripe along McCoy's dick before choking him down.
+
When they arrive at Cardassia Prime, Kirk beams down with Spock and Uhura and no security detail, going off about not wanting to insult their hosts by thinking the Cardassians wouldn't be honorable and try to harm them.
McCoy works off his frustration with the communications officer substituting for Uhura on the bridge. The man just started asking too many damn questions about why they were dealing with Cardassians, and he didn't really have anything else to do.
He brings Chekov with him, almost surprised that his fingers aren’t twitching with a desire to draw blood and is instead content to watch McCoy work.
“Go slow and stay shallow,” McCoy says, figuring he might as well teach Chekov a lesson or two. His speed and force work in a fight, but not if he wants to draw out someone's pain, torture them in a visceral way that the agonizers and agony booths can never accomplish. “If you cut deep quickly, adrenaline will kick in, and he won't even feel it anymore.”
McCoy hands over one of his bladed scalpels, letting Chekov take over with Lieutenant Harding. The slices Chekov removes are so fine the skin is practically transparent, and when Harding screams, it's more from the horror of watching himself being flayed without even being allowed to pass out more than hitting the pain threshold too high.
“Can I remove the face, Doktor?” Chekov asks after a wide belt of Harding's skin has been removed, a macabre mockery of the sash McCoy wears as part of his uniform.
“The head bleeds too much; you don't want him passing out. Stick to the fleshy areas unless you've grown bored and just want to kill him.”
Chekov moves on to Harding's pectorals instead, jumping up and down with the scalpel clenched tight in his right hand when the lieutenant starts crying and begging for death. McCoy, disgusted by the sniveling, cuts out Harding's tongue and rolls him onto his side so he doesn't choke to death on his own blood.
“Give him a few minutes,” McCoy says, knowing he could get a hypospray to hasten the process, but he needs Harding to keep him occupied until Kirk gets back.
“Do you think the keptin will succeed?” Chekov's paying careful attention to the cuts he's making even as he talks to McCoy.
What McCoy is really wondering about is what Kirk is telling the Cardassian chancellor in front of Spock and Uhura; is it what he's really planning that the other two officers are to assume is a lie, or has he made up an entirely different plan just for the Cardassian's benefit?
“He has to,” McCoy responds instead. “Otherwise we're all dead, and that's the best-case scenario.”
+
McCoy's woken up by the warning chime he's had programmed into his communicator should anyone break into his quarters on the ship. He feigns sleep, hand under the pillow wrapped around the hilt of the knife that he keeps between the mattress and the wall.
He can't hear the intruder breathing, but McCoy can just barely make out the soft footsteps padding through his quarters and past the partition that separates the sleeping and living areas. He's running a countdown in his head to when McCoy's going to strike, but then there's a hand clamping down on his upper arm, the one holding the knife, and a knee pressed to the small of his back.
McCoy's heart is racing, startled that this person got closer than McCoy had thought they'd been. “At least give me the dignity of seeing who kills me,” he growls, trying to keep his voice even but it's rough from sleep and as a man used to causing pain and suffering, he's too familiar with what can be inflicted on him.
Then there's a dark chuckle that just has McCoy snarling in outrage because of course the motherfucker is Kirk. “Lights on full,” Kirk says, disorienting McCoy with the sudden brightness as his eyes try to adjust. “You're getting sloppy, Bones.”
“Lights off,” McCoy barks, plunging them back into darkness. He's still pinned to the bed, concentrating on getting his heart rate back to normal, but it's not cooperating now that he knows it's Kirk on top of him, and he can tell Kirk is just thrumming with excess energy from politicking with the Cardassian chancellor for the last three days. The ship around him, McCoy notices, sounds different than it had when he fell asleep. “Why are we at warp?”
“We're going to Qo'nos, Bones.”
“And you couldn't wait until morning to tell me this?”
Kirk adjusts so he's kneeling on either side of McCoy's thighs, rocking forward, and even through the blankets McCoy can feel his erection. “You don't even have to do anything, Bones; just lie there and take it. Hell, you can go back to sleep if you want.”
Like that's gonna happen, McCoy thinks before finally releasing his hold on the knife, reaching his hand around to push at Kirk's thigh. Kirk takes the opportunity to slide off of McCoy, and the rustling of fabric can only be Kirk undressing as McCoy flips the blankets aside before stretching back out on his bed.
“The chancellor not like what you have to say, so you're going to try appealing to the Klingons now?” McCoy asks, feeling Kirk's hands go straight for his ass, teasing around the waistband of his underwear before stretching them down to the tops of his thighs.
“The chancellor claimed that he and the Klingon regent are equals, but it sounds to me like the regent is really the one running the show.” Kirk works his left hand under McCoy's stomach to idly stroke McCoy's cock as he speaks. “It'll just make it easier to turn them against each other once this is all over.”
McCoy grunts in agreement, thrusting slightly into Kirk's grip. He's expecting Kirk to keep talking and swears when McCoy feels Kirk's tongue run along the cleft of his ass before penetrating him, fucking him with that agile muscle that apparently hasn't done enough today as it gets McCoy slick and open.
Kirk pulls McCoy up onto his knees, his face still pressed against the pillow when Kirk pushes into him, his hand pumping McCoy's cock in counterpoint to his thrusting, leaving McCoy feeling over-stimulated on both ends as he does what Kirk had said, just lying there and taking it until Kirk comes and then quickly draws out an orgasm of McCoy's own afterwards.
“You're gonna get yourself fucking killed,” McCoy says blearily, rolling to his side to watch Kirk's darker silhouette get off the bed and put his uniform back on.
“That's why the universe gave me you, Bones - to make sure that doesn't happen.”
McCoy can't fall back asleep after Kirk leaves, his thoughts overrun with all the ways a Klingon can kill a human by barely lifting a finger. He'd seen a bat'leth once, and there's nothing McCoy can do if Kirk gets himself decapitated.
Giving up, McCoy strips and remakes the bed and then spends a few minutes in the sonic before bringing up everything the empire's library has on Klingon physiology.
+
They're five days from dropping out of warp in the Klingon system when Kirk shows up at sickbay.
“I changed my mind,” he says, hopping up onto a biobed and holding his right arm out to McCoy. “Do the skin graft.”
“Don't want the Klingons thinking you're an unworthy opponent because you lost an arm?”
Kirk's eyes are hard when he orders, “Just do it, Doctor,” with no room for argument.
+
They get beamed down into something that McCoy thinks is what the Klingon version of the Colosseum would look like if Klingons had any sense of art. It's packed full of Klingons waving weapons in the air and howling like animals, like a swarm about to descend on the four of them in the middle of the arena.
McCoy's focus isn't on the thousands of Klingons for long, though, as three enter the center of the stadium, walking across the dirt floor towards them. The one in the middle grunts something out once the Klingons are about seven meters away. His grip on the medkit he's holding tightens like it would do any good if the Klingons change their mind and attack, but Kirk is convinced that their honor system won't allow them to do that, and McCoy can't do anything but blindly believe him.
“The regent asks if you are prepared to die,” Uhura translates, her posture stiff, making her seem taller than she really is. McCoy wonders if it's affecting how the Klingons see her at all.
Kirk responds in their language, getting a barking laugh out of the regent that ends when they stop walking, the Terrans and Klingons standing two meters apart with both parties completely, or at least visually, unarmed. Kirk and the regent talk with Uhura translating for both, and McCoy keeps an eye on her. Kirk might trust her to not intentionally mistranslate to have things go wrong, but that doesn't mean McCoy has to.
He misses the last thing Uhura says, realizing this when Kirk starts kicking off his boots and undoing the sash at his waist before taking off the tunic, standing in the dirt barefoot and shirtless - pale, smooth skin looking too fragile when surrounded by so many Klingons. McCoy's gaze automatically goes to the scar on his lower back, the one McCoy had left from that fucking spear at the beginning of their first campaign. When Kirk turns around, his eyes move to the scar on his throat that Kirk had earned when a piece of exploding panel grazed his carotid artery during their first battle with Klingons, but that one had been in space. All McCoy can think about is how much work he's put into keeping Kirk alive, how it would be a waste to just lose him now to these Klingons.
He grabs Kirk by the upper arm, pulling him in close to hiss in his ear. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”
“What part of a fight to the death didn't you understand?”
“Humor me,” McCoy growls, keeping his eyes on the Klingons, on the one to the right of the regent who seems to be sizing Kirk up.
“The Klingons won't deal with someone they perceive as weaker. Two of us,” he tilts his head in Sulu's direction, “against two of them.”
“I didn't come just to watch you get killed.”
Kirk hits the medkit with the arm McCoy isn't holding. “Well, they're allowing you as our handicap, so keep us alive long enough to kill their champions and you won't have to.” His grin is sharp, lethal, as he pulls out of McCoy's grip before going to talk to Sulu. The pilot is neatly folding his shirt before placing it on top of his boots, which are sitting perfectly next to each other.
“We're to watch with the regent,” Uhura says, appearing at his side. She's indicating a private section within the first level where the Klingon leader is already sitting and drinking something red. “We've been offered bloodwine for the...” She pauses, considering. “The best translation is performance.”
“Maybe that will leave a better taste in my mouth,” McCoy responds, wondering what the regent plans on doing with him and Uhura should Kirk and Sulu lose, but he sure as hell isn't going to ask.
+
The regent doesn't talk beyond offering them meat and bloodwine, the latter of which McCoy accepts and, if nothing else, he at least seems to impress the regent by putting the potent alcohol away without wincing from the burn or blacking out entirely.
It's brutal, the fight between Terrans and Klingons. Both sides were allowed nothing more than their bare hands, which isn't as entirely unbalanced as it would seem. While Kirk and Sulu can't match the sheer strength of the Klingons, they make up for it in speed.
Sulu fights like he's been training for it since he could walk. His movements are agile, fluid, and he's even quick enough to get between the two Klingons and duck out of the way at the last second, getting them to hit each other accidentally, which triggers a rage that actually gets the Klingons fighting against each other until they realize who they're actually supposed to be fighting. Any excess energy they expend, though, the more they wear themselves out, will work in Kirk and Sulu's favor.
Kirk still brawls like he did back in the bars outside of the Imperial Academy, all calculated attacks that seem blind and reckless. He gets in too close for the Klingons to build any good momentum with their swings. Kirk boxes one of the Klingon's ears, sending him reeling, disoriented, for a moment that allows Kirk to smash his elbow into the Klingon's clavicle, but there doesn't seem to be enough force behind it as the bone doesn't break.
The other Klingon is focusing on Sulu, his lightness on his feet almost comical in comparison to the bulldozers that the Klingons are. It certainly has the regent laughing, but that could also be the bloodwine. The Klingon leader says something that Uhura responds to, not bothering to translate the exchange for McCoy. The regent just laughs harder, but Uhura is clearly unamused by whatever he had said to her.
Kirk's up in his Klingon's face again, but instead of just shoving him backwards like he has been, the Klingon slaps Kirk across the face with the back of his hand. Kirk staggers backwards, blood running down his face as he spits more of it onto the ground.
McCoy grabs his medkit without even thinking, triaging Kirk's broken nose and dislocated jaw before he even reaches him. Kirk at least meets him halfway; the regent said that Kirk and Sulu were allowed medical treatment, but that doesn't mean they weren't still open for attack while receiving it. McCoy resets both bones quickly, not having the time to do anything more.
“You're going to need to spend some time with an osteogenic stimulator if you get out of this alive,” McCoy growls, watching Kirk work his set jaw.
Kirk spits then smiles, his teeth stained pink. “How much force do you think this arm can exert, Bones?” His eyes are gleaming wickedly, and McCoy knows in that instant that Kirk has been toying with the Klingon champions. He recalls Kirk's nearly obsessive flexing of his bionic arm, and all McCoy can think is that Kirk knows exactly how much force it can exert, that Kirk has tested its limits, probably with Scotty's help, to see how far he can push it until he risks damaging it entirely.
The sudden desire for the skin graft makes sense now. At first McCoy had thought maybe Kirk didn't want to be seen as weak, but in reality it's his trump card, his secret weapon.
McCoy looks away, his hands still palpating Kirk's face, in time to see Sulu's legs fall out from under him with a surprised cry, one Klingon still holding Sulu's ankle while the other circles both of them like he's contemplating how he wants to inflict damage first.
Kirk breaks away, running to Sulu and the Klingons as fast as he can, and McCoy is still frozen in the middle of the arena, the Klingons filling the space sounding like the roar of the ocean in his ears, as McCoy watches Kirk lash out at the Klingon holding Sulu. Kirk kicks out at the back of the Klingon's knees, felling him easily, before pulling back his bionic arm, swinging it at the Klingon's parietal bone.
Even from the distance he's at, McCoy can hear the crunch of bone, and it seems to carry through the arena as suddenly the cheering Klingons have gone silent as they watch one of their champions keel forward and collapse face first into the dirt.
The remaining Klingon champion is a joint effort, Kirk incapacitating him before Sulu delivers the killing blows, the final a kick that breaks vertebrae and severs the spinal cord. Before the Klingon is even done twitching on the ground, Kirk is staring back at the regent with a tight grin on his face, holding his clenched fist to his heart in a salute, obviously pleased with his success and daring the regent to follow through with his promise.
+
Sulu and McCoy are beamed back to the Enterprise after McCoy properly fixes Kirk's broken nose, and Spock is beamed down to Qo'nos in order to assist with negotiations.
The pilot has stress fractures in his metatarsals and metacarpals and three broken ribs, but otherwise he got away easily compared to his fight against the Cardassians.
“There's nothing you can leave?” he asks, seeming disappointed.
“Nothing's deep enough, and the abrasions will just heal fully on their own.” McCoy has Sulu lie down before strapping the osteogenic stimulators to his legs. “Don't move and you can be on the bridge in an hour.”
“Never thought I'd be trying to get the Cardassians and Klingons on our side in order to save the Terran Empire,” Sulu says with a snort. “Nearly eight hundred people on this ship, McCoy; not all of them see things the same way Kirk does.”
This is something that he doesn't need to be told. McCoy is aware of the whisperings going on amongst the crew. His nurses always seem to know the gossip that goes around the ship, so he hears about those who are discussing turning Kirk in to the emperor for treason.
When he releases Sulu from sickbay, McCoy really believes that Sulu will do whatever it takes to see this through to the end. Maybe Kirk had been right to keep him from doing anything to the bridge crew. They all seem to trust him on some level or at least they're along for the ride because it's the more interesting option.
He's eating dinner in the officer's mess when Chekov sits down next to him, whispering conspiratorially that their long-range communications array seems to be down, damaged beyond repair, and the parts they would need to fix it aren't readily available on the ship.
When the away team returns at the end of the first day, Kirk makes a ship-wide announcement that part of the deal he's trying to work out with the Klingons is that anyone who goes against the Enterprise will be handed over to the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance as slaves, starting with the traitors from his own crew.
The discussions of treason stop soon after that, and McCoy knows that their play for Terra is now within reach.
Part 4
McCoy's on the bridge when they drop out of warp, and while most of these brown smudges of planets start to blur together in his mind, he recognizes Arkos III. It's been six weeks since their first visit when Kirk lost his arm, and McCoy hopes that's not why they've returned. Kirk should know that his arm has been lost to the elements and detritivores. Kirk also has a tendency, though, to not know that there are some scenarios he just can't win.
“You're shit out of luck if you lose the other one, Captain.”
Kirk ignores him, though, instead playing with a grid of the planet on his chair's arm console, marking various points on the surface. “Chekov, I want you to fire on these locations I've marked once you have a lock.”
“Yes, Keptin; it will take one moment.” Chekov spins in his chair to face Kirk. “Phasers or torpedos, sir?”
Kirk waves his hand magnanimously. “Whatever you wish, Lieutenant; go crazy.”
Chekov does something with the weapons programming that even impresses McCoy, getting the timing precise so he launches torpedos at the targets and augments their explosions with the phaser fire.
“I'm picking up Cardassian lifeforms fleeing the targeted areas. There are also secondary explosions suggestive of electrical fires.” Spock stays glued to his station, not even turning his neck to get a look out the view screen.
“Wait,” McCoy interrupts, putting more pieces together than he likes. “You knew the last time we were here that this was some sort of secret Cardassian outpost.”
“Of course I did, Bones; why else would I have bothered stopping by?” Kirk appears to contemplate his bionic arm for a moment. “It turns out that the Cardassian we played with was the chancellor's youngest son, and he didn't appreciate what we did with him. Our first visit to Arkos III was personal; now we can actually get some talking done.”
“Captain, we're being hailed,” Uhura calls out almost as if on cue.
“Okay, Chekov, that's enough for now.” Kirk stands, taking a wide stance in the middle of the bridge. “On screen.”
McCoy doubts the Cardassian displayed before them is any sort of chancellor, looking more like a military man than a politician, but with Cardassians it's always hard to tell.
“I want an audience with your chancellor,” Kirk says before the Cardassian even opens his mouth. “Or your base and everyone in it will be smoldering when we leave this system.”
“Why should the chancellor want to listen to you, Terran?”
McCoy may be standing off to the side, but he can still see the way Kirk's lip twitched like it's trying to pull into a sneer. If he hadn't been trying to get something from the Cardassian, the insolence normally would have resulted in Kirk commanding Chekov to resume fire.
“Because I'm going to be the next emperor, and your chancellor would rather be with me than against me.”
A heavy silence descends over the bridge. No other crew members had been let in on his and Kirk's plan, and he'd just announced it in front of all of them without a concern as to who might be getting controlled by the emperor with either money or threats.
It's quiet on the Cardassian's end, too, as he seems to consider what Kirk has said and the likelihood of it being possible. There's no way the Cardassian doesn't know who Kirk is, the man who's been the captain of the empire's flagship for six years now.
“We need to know, first, that you are an honorable warrior,” the Cardassian says. “Bring one other with you and meet at these coordinates. If you perform acceptably, you may present your proposal to the chancellor.”
The link is terminated on the Cardassian's end, but with their base burning and the increase in static during their conversation, McCoy can't tell if it had been intentional or not. Kirk doesn't give Chekov the order to continue firing as before, though. The damn fool looks more like he's considering what the Cardassian had said.
“You're not actually going down there, are you?”
“Captain, when were you to inform us of your plans for treason?”
“We've received the coordinates, Captain.”
They're talking on top of each other as Kirk continues to stare at the view screen, which is once again showing Arkos III below them only now there's black smoke filling the atmosphere on the southeast corner of the northern continent.
“The admiralty know,” Kirk begins, “that the Klingons and Cardassians have formed an alliance with the plan to takeover our empire. Because of Nero the fleet was cut in half, and the modifications to weaponize the acquired Vulcan ships beyond strictly defensive measures are taking longer than expected.”
He turns away from the screen, crossing his arms over his chest. “The admirals want this alliance to be stopped by any means necessary. Anyone uncomfortable with my strategy may be dropped off at the nearest starbase without any repercussions. Are we clear?” Kirk finishes staring directly at McCoy, the only one who knows that what he told his bridge crew is a half-truth, playing them as much as he is the admirals and soon the Cardassians.
No one says anything for long minutes, just staring at each other across the bridge until Sulu lets out a, “Yes, sir,” that is echoed by everyone else. Kirk looks smug and the crew looks too concerned with thoughts of being enslaved by Cardassians and Klingons to consider that Kirk might be lying to them.
“Good,” Kirk says, starting for the turbolift. “Sulu, you're going to be my plus one this afternoon.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Sulu says with a smile that actually is grateful. There's no doubt that they're going to be beaming into bloodshed; those damn warrior races and their honorable tests of strength.
“Don't fuck up the arm. Scotty and I put a lot of work into it,” McCoy says as Kirk and Sulu step into the turbolift.
“Why, Bones, are you worried about me?” Kirk responds with a smug grin just before the doors slide shut.
McCoy gets aggravated when he realizes that he is, and not just because Kirk's death means his life will shortly end. He goes to sickbay, needing to make someone bleed and hoping one of those clumsy engineering ensigns has shown up with some wound he can aggravate before mending it.
+
They come back bruised and bloody but alive, the worst of the injuries being Sulu's left ear needing to be reattached and Kirk's dislocated jaw. The latter at least keeps McCoy from having to deal with Kirk's gloating for a bit, but there's no mistaking the glint of victory in his eyes as they head to Cardassia Prime.
Kirk leaves sickbay to check in with the bridge, seeming disappointed that he can't stay and watch McCoy fuse the shell of Sulu's ear back to his head.
“Don't run the regenerator over it after, Doc. I want to keep the scar.”
“It's your head,” McCoy replies, overly familiar with Sulu's desire to keep his battle wounds, but it doesn't make McCoy find the sentimentality any less insane. He catches himself running his thumb over the line across his own face. He has that for Kirk, not himself.
Sulu looks at him through narrow eyes, a grin that's too smug for McCoy's taste tugging at his lips. “I know the captain didn't ask for the ones you left on him.
McCoy scowls, grabbing a hypospray from the nearby tray, and hits Sulu in the neck with it harder than he needs to but it's a poor replacement for what he'd rather do to him for the comment. “It might not be a sedative next time, Lieutenant,” McCoy says before Sulu loses consciousness and falls backwards onto the biobed.
Kirk returns not even a minute later, and he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, not even questioning the fact that Sulu's sedated.
“Nurse Chapel,” Kirk says all too excitedly when he catches sight of McCoy's head nurse. “You can finish with Sulu here, right? I need to talk to Bones privately.”
Chapel, smart woman that she is, looks for McCoy's nod before stepping in and taking over. He doesn't need his nurses thinking that they can do his job.
“What the hell do you want?” McCoy asks once they get in his office with the door shut behind them.
Kirk clamps his hands on both of McCoy's shoulders, steering him backwards until the backs of his thighs hit his desk and then pushing him down to sit. Kirk sits in the chair facing McCoy, pulling it close until there's barely any space between them.
“Have to make sure you set my jaw correctly, don't I?” Kirk says, practically giddy, and McCoy isn't exactly complaining when Kirk starts to undo the knot in his sash to get it out of the way so he can unzip McCoy's pants.
“Fuck,” is all McCoy can think to say when Kirk draws McCoy's cock out of his pants.
“That's the idea,” Kirk replies, leaning forward to lick a hot stripe along McCoy's dick before choking him down.
+
When they arrive at Cardassia Prime, Kirk beams down with Spock and Uhura and no security detail, going off about not wanting to insult their hosts by thinking the Cardassians wouldn't be honorable and try to harm them.
McCoy works off his frustration with the communications officer substituting for Uhura on the bridge. The man just started asking too many damn questions about why they were dealing with Cardassians, and he didn't really have anything else to do.
He brings Chekov with him, almost surprised that his fingers aren’t twitching with a desire to draw blood and is instead content to watch McCoy work.
“Go slow and stay shallow,” McCoy says, figuring he might as well teach Chekov a lesson or two. His speed and force work in a fight, but not if he wants to draw out someone's pain, torture them in a visceral way that the agonizers and agony booths can never accomplish. “If you cut deep quickly, adrenaline will kick in, and he won't even feel it anymore.”
McCoy hands over one of his bladed scalpels, letting Chekov take over with Lieutenant Harding. The slices Chekov removes are so fine the skin is practically transparent, and when Harding screams, it's more from the horror of watching himself being flayed without even being allowed to pass out more than hitting the pain threshold too high.
“Can I remove the face, Doktor?” Chekov asks after a wide belt of Harding's skin has been removed, a macabre mockery of the sash McCoy wears as part of his uniform.
“The head bleeds too much; you don't want him passing out. Stick to the fleshy areas unless you've grown bored and just want to kill him.”
Chekov moves on to Harding's pectorals instead, jumping up and down with the scalpel clenched tight in his right hand when the lieutenant starts crying and begging for death. McCoy, disgusted by the sniveling, cuts out Harding's tongue and rolls him onto his side so he doesn't choke to death on his own blood.
“Give him a few minutes,” McCoy says, knowing he could get a hypospray to hasten the process, but he needs Harding to keep him occupied until Kirk gets back.
“Do you think the keptin will succeed?” Chekov's paying careful attention to the cuts he's making even as he talks to McCoy.
What McCoy is really wondering about is what Kirk is telling the Cardassian chancellor in front of Spock and Uhura; is it what he's really planning that the other two officers are to assume is a lie, or has he made up an entirely different plan just for the Cardassian's benefit?
“He has to,” McCoy responds instead. “Otherwise we're all dead, and that's the best-case scenario.”
+
McCoy's woken up by the warning chime he's had programmed into his communicator should anyone break into his quarters on the ship. He feigns sleep, hand under the pillow wrapped around the hilt of the knife that he keeps between the mattress and the wall.
He can't hear the intruder breathing, but McCoy can just barely make out the soft footsteps padding through his quarters and past the partition that separates the sleeping and living areas. He's running a countdown in his head to when McCoy's going to strike, but then there's a hand clamping down on his upper arm, the one holding the knife, and a knee pressed to the small of his back.
McCoy's heart is racing, startled that this person got closer than McCoy had thought they'd been. “At least give me the dignity of seeing who kills me,” he growls, trying to keep his voice even but it's rough from sleep and as a man used to causing pain and suffering, he's too familiar with what can be inflicted on him.
Then there's a dark chuckle that just has McCoy snarling in outrage because of course the motherfucker is Kirk. “Lights on full,” Kirk says, disorienting McCoy with the sudden brightness as his eyes try to adjust. “You're getting sloppy, Bones.”
“Lights off,” McCoy barks, plunging them back into darkness. He's still pinned to the bed, concentrating on getting his heart rate back to normal, but it's not cooperating now that he knows it's Kirk on top of him, and he can tell Kirk is just thrumming with excess energy from politicking with the Cardassian chancellor for the last three days. The ship around him, McCoy notices, sounds different than it had when he fell asleep. “Why are we at warp?”
“We're going to Qo'nos, Bones.”
“And you couldn't wait until morning to tell me this?”
Kirk adjusts so he's kneeling on either side of McCoy's thighs, rocking forward, and even through the blankets McCoy can feel his erection. “You don't even have to do anything, Bones; just lie there and take it. Hell, you can go back to sleep if you want.”
Like that's gonna happen, McCoy thinks before finally releasing his hold on the knife, reaching his hand around to push at Kirk's thigh. Kirk takes the opportunity to slide off of McCoy, and the rustling of fabric can only be Kirk undressing as McCoy flips the blankets aside before stretching back out on his bed.
“The chancellor not like what you have to say, so you're going to try appealing to the Klingons now?” McCoy asks, feeling Kirk's hands go straight for his ass, teasing around the waistband of his underwear before stretching them down to the tops of his thighs.
“The chancellor claimed that he and the Klingon regent are equals, but it sounds to me like the regent is really the one running the show.” Kirk works his left hand under McCoy's stomach to idly stroke McCoy's cock as he speaks. “It'll just make it easier to turn them against each other once this is all over.”
McCoy grunts in agreement, thrusting slightly into Kirk's grip. He's expecting Kirk to keep talking and swears when McCoy feels Kirk's tongue run along the cleft of his ass before penetrating him, fucking him with that agile muscle that apparently hasn't done enough today as it gets McCoy slick and open.
Kirk pulls McCoy up onto his knees, his face still pressed against the pillow when Kirk pushes into him, his hand pumping McCoy's cock in counterpoint to his thrusting, leaving McCoy feeling over-stimulated on both ends as he does what Kirk had said, just lying there and taking it until Kirk comes and then quickly draws out an orgasm of McCoy's own afterwards.
“You're gonna get yourself fucking killed,” McCoy says blearily, rolling to his side to watch Kirk's darker silhouette get off the bed and put his uniform back on.
“That's why the universe gave me you, Bones - to make sure that doesn't happen.”
McCoy can't fall back asleep after Kirk leaves, his thoughts overrun with all the ways a Klingon can kill a human by barely lifting a finger. He'd seen a bat'leth once, and there's nothing McCoy can do if Kirk gets himself decapitated.
Giving up, McCoy strips and remakes the bed and then spends a few minutes in the sonic before bringing up everything the empire's library has on Klingon physiology.
+
They're five days from dropping out of warp in the Klingon system when Kirk shows up at sickbay.
“I changed my mind,” he says, hopping up onto a biobed and holding his right arm out to McCoy. “Do the skin graft.”
“Don't want the Klingons thinking you're an unworthy opponent because you lost an arm?”
Kirk's eyes are hard when he orders, “Just do it, Doctor,” with no room for argument.
+
They get beamed down into something that McCoy thinks is what the Klingon version of the Colosseum would look like if Klingons had any sense of art. It's packed full of Klingons waving weapons in the air and howling like animals, like a swarm about to descend on the four of them in the middle of the arena.
McCoy's focus isn't on the thousands of Klingons for long, though, as three enter the center of the stadium, walking across the dirt floor towards them. The one in the middle grunts something out once the Klingons are about seven meters away. His grip on the medkit he's holding tightens like it would do any good if the Klingons change their mind and attack, but Kirk is convinced that their honor system won't allow them to do that, and McCoy can't do anything but blindly believe him.
“The regent asks if you are prepared to die,” Uhura translates, her posture stiff, making her seem taller than she really is. McCoy wonders if it's affecting how the Klingons see her at all.
Kirk responds in their language, getting a barking laugh out of the regent that ends when they stop walking, the Terrans and Klingons standing two meters apart with both parties completely, or at least visually, unarmed. Kirk and the regent talk with Uhura translating for both, and McCoy keeps an eye on her. Kirk might trust her to not intentionally mistranslate to have things go wrong, but that doesn't mean McCoy has to.
He misses the last thing Uhura says, realizing this when Kirk starts kicking off his boots and undoing the sash at his waist before taking off the tunic, standing in the dirt barefoot and shirtless - pale, smooth skin looking too fragile when surrounded by so many Klingons. McCoy's gaze automatically goes to the scar on his lower back, the one McCoy had left from that fucking spear at the beginning of their first campaign. When Kirk turns around, his eyes move to the scar on his throat that Kirk had earned when a piece of exploding panel grazed his carotid artery during their first battle with Klingons, but that one had been in space. All McCoy can think about is how much work he's put into keeping Kirk alive, how it would be a waste to just lose him now to these Klingons.
He grabs Kirk by the upper arm, pulling him in close to hiss in his ear. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”
“What part of a fight to the death didn't you understand?”
“Humor me,” McCoy growls, keeping his eyes on the Klingons, on the one to the right of the regent who seems to be sizing Kirk up.
“The Klingons won't deal with someone they perceive as weaker. Two of us,” he tilts his head in Sulu's direction, “against two of them.”
“I didn't come just to watch you get killed.”
Kirk hits the medkit with the arm McCoy isn't holding. “Well, they're allowing you as our handicap, so keep us alive long enough to kill their champions and you won't have to.” His grin is sharp, lethal, as he pulls out of McCoy's grip before going to talk to Sulu. The pilot is neatly folding his shirt before placing it on top of his boots, which are sitting perfectly next to each other.
“We're to watch with the regent,” Uhura says, appearing at his side. She's indicating a private section within the first level where the Klingon leader is already sitting and drinking something red. “We've been offered bloodwine for the...” She pauses, considering. “The best translation is performance.”
“Maybe that will leave a better taste in my mouth,” McCoy responds, wondering what the regent plans on doing with him and Uhura should Kirk and Sulu lose, but he sure as hell isn't going to ask.
+
The regent doesn't talk beyond offering them meat and bloodwine, the latter of which McCoy accepts and, if nothing else, he at least seems to impress the regent by putting the potent alcohol away without wincing from the burn or blacking out entirely.
It's brutal, the fight between Terrans and Klingons. Both sides were allowed nothing more than their bare hands, which isn't as entirely unbalanced as it would seem. While Kirk and Sulu can't match the sheer strength of the Klingons, they make up for it in speed.
Sulu fights like he's been training for it since he could walk. His movements are agile, fluid, and he's even quick enough to get between the two Klingons and duck out of the way at the last second, getting them to hit each other accidentally, which triggers a rage that actually gets the Klingons fighting against each other until they realize who they're actually supposed to be fighting. Any excess energy they expend, though, the more they wear themselves out, will work in Kirk and Sulu's favor.
Kirk still brawls like he did back in the bars outside of the Imperial Academy, all calculated attacks that seem blind and reckless. He gets in too close for the Klingons to build any good momentum with their swings. Kirk boxes one of the Klingon's ears, sending him reeling, disoriented, for a moment that allows Kirk to smash his elbow into the Klingon's clavicle, but there doesn't seem to be enough force behind it as the bone doesn't break.
The other Klingon is focusing on Sulu, his lightness on his feet almost comical in comparison to the bulldozers that the Klingons are. It certainly has the regent laughing, but that could also be the bloodwine. The Klingon leader says something that Uhura responds to, not bothering to translate the exchange for McCoy. The regent just laughs harder, but Uhura is clearly unamused by whatever he had said to her.
Kirk's up in his Klingon's face again, but instead of just shoving him backwards like he has been, the Klingon slaps Kirk across the face with the back of his hand. Kirk staggers backwards, blood running down his face as he spits more of it onto the ground.
McCoy grabs his medkit without even thinking, triaging Kirk's broken nose and dislocated jaw before he even reaches him. Kirk at least meets him halfway; the regent said that Kirk and Sulu were allowed medical treatment, but that doesn't mean they weren't still open for attack while receiving it. McCoy resets both bones quickly, not having the time to do anything more.
“You're going to need to spend some time with an osteogenic stimulator if you get out of this alive,” McCoy growls, watching Kirk work his set jaw.
Kirk spits then smiles, his teeth stained pink. “How much force do you think this arm can exert, Bones?” His eyes are gleaming wickedly, and McCoy knows in that instant that Kirk has been toying with the Klingon champions. He recalls Kirk's nearly obsessive flexing of his bionic arm, and all McCoy can think is that Kirk knows exactly how much force it can exert, that Kirk has tested its limits, probably with Scotty's help, to see how far he can push it until he risks damaging it entirely.
The sudden desire for the skin graft makes sense now. At first McCoy had thought maybe Kirk didn't want to be seen as weak, but in reality it's his trump card, his secret weapon.
McCoy looks away, his hands still palpating Kirk's face, in time to see Sulu's legs fall out from under him with a surprised cry, one Klingon still holding Sulu's ankle while the other circles both of them like he's contemplating how he wants to inflict damage first.
Kirk breaks away, running to Sulu and the Klingons as fast as he can, and McCoy is still frozen in the middle of the arena, the Klingons filling the space sounding like the roar of the ocean in his ears, as McCoy watches Kirk lash out at the Klingon holding Sulu. Kirk kicks out at the back of the Klingon's knees, felling him easily, before pulling back his bionic arm, swinging it at the Klingon's parietal bone.
Even from the distance he's at, McCoy can hear the crunch of bone, and it seems to carry through the arena as suddenly the cheering Klingons have gone silent as they watch one of their champions keel forward and collapse face first into the dirt.
The remaining Klingon champion is a joint effort, Kirk incapacitating him before Sulu delivers the killing blows, the final a kick that breaks vertebrae and severs the spinal cord. Before the Klingon is even done twitching on the ground, Kirk is staring back at the regent with a tight grin on his face, holding his clenched fist to his heart in a salute, obviously pleased with his success and daring the regent to follow through with his promise.
+
Sulu and McCoy are beamed back to the Enterprise after McCoy properly fixes Kirk's broken nose, and Spock is beamed down to Qo'nos in order to assist with negotiations.
The pilot has stress fractures in his metatarsals and metacarpals and three broken ribs, but otherwise he got away easily compared to his fight against the Cardassians.
“There's nothing you can leave?” he asks, seeming disappointed.
“Nothing's deep enough, and the abrasions will just heal fully on their own.” McCoy has Sulu lie down before strapping the osteogenic stimulators to his legs. “Don't move and you can be on the bridge in an hour.”
“Never thought I'd be trying to get the Cardassians and Klingons on our side in order to save the Terran Empire,” Sulu says with a snort. “Nearly eight hundred people on this ship, McCoy; not all of them see things the same way Kirk does.”
This is something that he doesn't need to be told. McCoy is aware of the whisperings going on amongst the crew. His nurses always seem to know the gossip that goes around the ship, so he hears about those who are discussing turning Kirk in to the emperor for treason.
When he releases Sulu from sickbay, McCoy really believes that Sulu will do whatever it takes to see this through to the end. Maybe Kirk had been right to keep him from doing anything to the bridge crew. They all seem to trust him on some level or at least they're along for the ride because it's the more interesting option.
He's eating dinner in the officer's mess when Chekov sits down next to him, whispering conspiratorially that their long-range communications array seems to be down, damaged beyond repair, and the parts they would need to fix it aren't readily available on the ship.
When the away team returns at the end of the first day, Kirk makes a ship-wide announcement that part of the deal he's trying to work out with the Klingons is that anyone who goes against the Enterprise will be handed over to the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance as slaves, starting with the traitors from his own crew.
The discussions of treason stop soon after that, and McCoy knows that their play for Terra is now within reach.
Part 4