Fic: "The Needs of the Few" (15/23)
Title: "The Needs of the Few"
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Pike, Finney
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,242
Warnings: Foul language, political situations, military stuff.
Summary: As cadets on a summer internship, Kirk and McCoy are supposed to keep their eyes open and their mouths shut. As far as Bones is concerned, that’s just plain wrong on Jim Kirk, but Jim seems determined to follow orders and fall in line for a change. After all, they’ve both seen enough trouble in two years at the Academy, and this is the Peace Mission of Axanar. However, when a mystery starts to weave itself around the mission, and the senior officers don’t seem interested in investigating, how far can Kirk and McCoy let it go?
Notes: Sorry for the slight delay. It's been a busy week! Two job interviews, my EMT practical exam, and general insanity. Anyway, sorry for making you wait, especially considering where we left Jim. Back to the story!
Previous chapters: One, Two, Three, Four(A), Four(B), Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen
Chapter 15
Leonard finished working on Liu’s leg in short order. It had been an ugly wound, but a simple repair. The guy would sleep off the anesthetic while he received a dose of blood replenishers. He’d be fine.
Really, all Leonard wanted to do was to go find Jim and make sure he was okay, but there were other injured people to tend to. By now, they should have evacuated most Starfleet personnel from the planet, starting with the gaggle of cadets. That meant if Jim wasn’t in sickbay, then he hadn’t been severely injured. Even though it was morbid, Leonard had already checked the ship’s record of those killed in action. Jim wasn’t on the list.
On the other hand, two security officers, including Lieutenant Voohrs, were already listed amongst the dead, along with the Rigellian Ambassador, a science tech, and one cadet whose face Leonard couldn’t push out of his mind. It was sobering to see how quickly a simple diplomatic mission had turned into a nightmare. Even though he knew shit-all nothing about diplomacy, Leonard knew the fallout was going to be awful.
What he didn’t know was how it had all gone so wrong.
Hadn’t he given his superior officers enough warnings and clues? Hadn’t Jim tried to get them to listen? For that matter, what the hell was the captain thinking anyway? Dammit, he didn’t even know what to think himself anymore.
Hadn’t all the problems been related? What about the unexplained injuries to Brex and T’Val? The odd behavior of different groups of Araxians? Were they really Araxians, or were they Axanar? What Jethan and Rhexen had told him made so much sense, but who was wrong and who was right? What would the Axanar say if they told their side of the story? And... goddammit, what the hell was really happening down there?
Leonard’s mind was churning furiously as he blew through Sickbay, looking for the next patient who needed his help. He hurried over to treatment bay one where Doctor Brex seemed to be finishing placing osteo-stabilizers on a human’s leg to prep for an osteostim session. Brex was instructing a medic, “Okay, take him to osteostim for a 20-minute session, level seven. He needs longer, but we’ve got too many patients to do full treatments for everyone right now.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the medic replied as they transferred the patient quickly to a gurney, and the medic pushed him away.
Brex turned his attention to Leonard and spoke without ceremony. “McCoy, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. When I heard what was happening, and I knew you were down there, and there was no way for me to know if you were okay, I... well, I’m glad you made it.”
“So am I.” He looked at Brex’s tense expression and had to ask. “How are you holding up?”
Brex looked around Sickbay, then gave Leonard a plaintive look. “My patients are in pain, my staff is frantic, and I can’t sense any of it from them.” He clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders. “But... I’m a doctor, and a Starfleet Officer. I’ve run a Sickbay through more than a few major disasters. I don’t have to feel my patients’ anguish to know they’re hurting, and I still have the skills to treat them. They need us.” He glanced back over his shoulder, and when he looked back at Leonard, his expression was calm again. “What about you?”
“I...” Leonard hesitated. He didn’t want to talk about it. They were in a crisis, and there were patients who needed him, but...
“Leonard?” Brex was frowning in concern, and Leonard knew he couldn’t - shouldn’t - hide information. Not from Brex.
“Down on the planet,” he began uneasily, “I was touring the science facilities when the bombing began. And...” He looked back over his shoulder, then back at Brex, and finally gave in. “And we lost Cadet Hererra.” Then he shook his head angrily. “No, dammit, I lost Cadet Hererra. I’d taken charge of the scene, and I sent him towards the building to triage victims... and they... they shot him, sir. Right in front of me. There was nothing I could do.” He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths. He had to hold it together.
For a split second, Brex’s eyes widened, but he quickly schooled his expression back into its professional neutrality. “I understand. Can you still focus on your job?”
Leonard nodded. “Don’t much have a choice. I’ve already let one too many people die today.”
“Good man,” Brex said. “We’ll talk when the dust settles. Right now, we’ve got bigger problems to...” Brex’s voice trailed off, then he flinched and quickly pressed his right hand to his temple.
“Doctor Brex!” Leonard grabbed Brex’s elbow as the Betazoid teetered slightly on his feet. “Are you okay? Need to sit down?”
“No... I’m fine. Just a headache.” He looked up at Leonard with a wan grin, but his face was still slightly pinched with discomfort. “Been a stressful day.”
“You’re telling me. But if you’re having trouble, maybe you should sit down for a little while before -”
Brex shook his head, cutting him off. “It’s annoying, but I can manage it. We’ve got patients who need us.” He stood a bit straighter, even though the motion looked forced. “You ready to work?”
“Always.”
“Good.” Without any further hesitation, Brex hurried out of the office with Leonard on his heels.
Sickbay was chaos, and Leonard was glad to descend into the madness again as Brex rattled off instructions. “We’re setting up a head and neck trauma case for surgery in bay one, and I’m taking that one. Singh and Ankewicz are working on a complex trauma in bay three. There’s a security crewman in bay two. Broken ribs, punctured lung, broken clavicle. He’s already been sedated for his comfort, and the injuries are under stabilizers. I need you to take over his care. Have nurse Stewart assist. When you’re done, check in with me and we’ll see where you’re needed next.”
“I’m on it,” Leonard said.
A few minutes later, he was just about to begin repairing broken ribs on the crewman in bay three when the intercom sounded an alert.
“Bridge to Medical. The Parliament building has taken another hit. One additional Federation casualty. Critical injuries. Please standby for emergency transport.”
Leonard heard Brex’s voice call out, “This is Medical! We’re standing by!” Then, “I need a team of medics ready to receive the casualty. Singh, let Ankewicz handle your patient. I need you to evaluate our incoming.”
Outside of the treatment bay, Leonard watched two young medics hurry by. He tried to ignore it and focus on the patient in front of him as he prepared to open, but something about the report was bothering him slightly. I thought all the Federation and Starfleet personnel would have been brought up to the ship already. He was about to call out his question to Brex, but before he could, the familiar hum of a transporter beam filled the room, followed by a flurry of voices.
Leonard’s professional focus was on repositioning a broken rib, but he couldn’t completely ignore the buzz from the center of the room.
“This is... this is a Kazarite.” She cleared her throat. “Doctor Brex, have you ever worked on a Kazarite?”
“No,” came the reply. Then after a pause, “I’ve never met one.”
There were sounds of people shuffling around and a tricorder whirring. “Patient is conscious with crush injuries to both upper and lower extremities, head trauma, some internal bleeding. Connor, go grab a stretcher. Nguyen, get his robes off.” There were more shuffling noises, then Singh’s hesitant voice.
“Doctor Brex?”
Something in her tone caught Leonard’s attention, and he whispered to Nurse Stewart, “Hold this stabilizer here.”
Stewart gave a questioning look, but then he nodded and smoothly took over the osteostabilizers.
Feeling a bit guilty for walking away from a procedure, but knowing that the patient was perfectly stable for the moment, Leonard let his curiosity get the better of him. He went to the end of the treatment bay and looked into the center of the room.
On the floor was an alien of a species Leonard didn’t recognise. Humanoid with heavy features, dark, gray-brown skin, and darker hair. He wore long layered robes, which the medic was in the process of cutting away. He appeared to be semi-conscious... and babbling to himself.
Off to the side, Doctor Brex was standing there, staring at him, with a startled expression on his face.
Leonard took in all of this in just a couple of seconds before springing into action. He positioned himself at the patient’s head, opening the airway and holding the neck steady, and nodded at Doctor Singh. “Let me help you get him moved.”
Singh looked up from her tricorder. “Thanks. Let him get these robes off first.”
Leonard looked down at the being’s face. He was smeared with dirt and ash, and an ooze of blue-purple liquid, which Leonard figured was normal for this species’ blood, trickled across his brow. His eyes were open, but glassy and distant. Leonard didn’t know the baselines for this species, but if they were anything recognizable, he was in shock and teetering on the edge of consciousness.
He was also mumbling.
In Standard.
“...it was my mistake... they convinced me... had no choice... should have known... should have known...”
Leonard leaned down closer. “What should you have known?”
For a fraction of a second, Leonard swore the alien’s eyes focused on him, then then closed again, and the mumbling continued. “My fault. My fault... so sorry... I never meant... by the time I realized... it was too late. So sorry...”
“McCoy, we’re ready to move him,” Singh barked out.
Leonard started, but quickly responded, helping to move the patient onto the lev-stretcher. The Kazarite groaned slightly, but then kept babbling to himself. Leonard wanted to listen, but the stretcher was being pushed away with Doctor Singh leading two medics and the last available nurse.
For a moment, Leonard stared after them as they rounded the corner to the last treatment area, usually reserved for isolation cases, but they had run out of regular spaces to put patients. Then, he realized he wasn’t the only one standing there, staring. He cast a glance sideways.
“Doctor Brex?”
Brex was standing still as a statue, his expression half-stunned, half-confused. Finally, he spoke. “He’s familiar.”
Leonard frowned. “If he’s a Federation Ambassador, that means he was on the ship, right? Did you do his physical?”
“No,” Brex said, shaking his head slowly. “On one level, I think I’ve never seen him before. But at the same time... I am completely convinced that not only have I seen him before... but it’s really important that I did.”
Leonard rounded on Brex. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure.” Brex shook his head. “Did you hear what he said? When he was mumbling there?”
“I...” Leonard cast a quick glance back towards where they had brought the strange alien. He couldn’t see them around the corner in the treatment area at the back of the room, but he could hear Doctor Singh barking orders. He turned back to Brex. “Something about... something being his fault. That he should have known, and that he was sorry. Brex... where do you think you saw him?”
For a moment, Brex was silent, then his eyes went wide. “Leonard... I think he’s what I was supposed to forget.” But before Leonard could ask what that was supposed to mean, Brex’s eyes squeezed shut and he grabbed at his temples with his hands, teetering slightly on his feet.
“Doctor Brex!” This time, Leonard didn’t even hesitate as he took Brex by the arm and started pulling him towards a chair. “That’s it, you need to sit down and let me scan you before you go anywhere near another patient. You’re going to -”
“Stop, McCoy. I need to -”
“Not until I scan you and figure out what the hell is going on. Now sit.” He lowered Brex into a chair, but when he turned back around with a tricorder, Brex’s eyes were clear and he didn’t look like he was in pain any more. “Doctor Brex?”
He blinked a couple of times, and his eyes refocused on Leonard’s face. “My telepathy is back.” He blinked again. “Completely.”
Leonard startled slightly, flipping open the tricorder and activating the scanner automatically. “What? How? I mean, that’s great but - ”
“But why now?” Brex finished smoothly for him. “And why all at once? I have no explanation... and...” Completely steady, Brex stood and walked quickly across the medical bay towards the back treatment area. “Doctor Singh!”
Singh was already picking up a laser scalpel, and the sterile field was humming expectantly, but she looked up. “Yes, Doctor?”
“The Kazarite... can we still communicate with him before you start?”
She shook her head. “He was losing consciousness anyway, but we just placed him under heavy sedation so we could begin treatment. We need to start on the bleeding here. Why?”
Brex shook his head. “Nothing. My apologies. Please continue.” He turned and started walking back towards bay one, where he’d been working on his own patient.
Leonard watched him, and boggled. “Doctor Brex? What just happened here?”
Brex stopped and looked back over his shoulder without turning around. His expression was oddly neutral and guarded - something Leonard had never seen on him. “I don’t know, McCoy. Doesn’t matter. He’s sedated and will probably be out for hours, and we’ve got patients who need us. We’ve stepped away from them for too long. Come on... we’ve got a job to do.” Without another word, he hurried off to the patient who was waiting for him.
Leonard looked back and forth between the treatment area with the Kazarite, and at Brex, who was already picking up his equipment again and re-entering the sterile field. “Well ain’t this just grand,” he growled under his breath. He’d figure it out later. Besides, Brex was right. He had a job to do. Nobody else was going to die on his watch today.
*********
They weren’t going to kill him, Jim had learned. At least, they didn’t want to. Not unless they had to. In fact, for people who were aiming high-powered weapons at his head, their captors were being bizarrely polite.
But that didn’t mean they would be released either.
The Araxians had immediately asked them who knew about the bomb, and Jim had been too stunned to keep a poker face and pretend he knew nothing. In the very least, he’d convinced them that the people who had escaped didn’t know, and they hadn’t pursued. With any luck, Hodges, Nadeau, and Wilcox were safely on the Athena already. However, Jim knew about the bomb, and there was no way his captors were letting that bit of intelligence slip out the door. Jim had no illusions that these people wouldn’t kill him if they decided that it was necessary for some reason.
With two of the Araxians training weapons on him, the third had helped him carry Johan up the stairs, across a catwalk, and to a room that had to be some sort of control room. His gut was aching more now, but he couldn’t let them see that he was injured. Besides, it wasn’t that bad. He hadn’t taken a closer look at it, but he figured it was fairly superficial. Some surface-level muscles at the worst. He could still function, and that was all that mattered.
“Put him down there, Terran,” the guy who seemed to be their leader said, pointing to a spot on the floor. His tone was neither cruel nor harsh, but it didn’t leave room for disobedience.
“Okay,” Jim replied, trying not to create problems until he knew more. No point in being disagreeable when, for the moment, there didn’t seem to be a direct threat of further violence.
With help, Jim lowered Johan to the floor, and sat down beside him at the insistence of the Araxians. He didn’t like the faint moaning sounds the other man was making. He needed a damned med kit. Fuck that, he needed to get them the hell out of there. The only thing he was hinging his hopes on was the fact that the rest of the team had gotten away. He hadn’t heard any weapons fire outside. With any luck at all, everyone else was back on the ship and alive.
Now, he just needed to get himself and Johan out of there.
Right.
He should have gotten them all out of there sooner. He should have trusted his instincts. Fuck, Pike had told him to trust his instincts! If he had, maybe they’d all be back aboard the ship right now. If they’d made a push for it, maybe they’d have gotten Finney out fast enough and he’d be alive in sickbay getting patched up right now. Maybe Johan wouldn’t have been shot. And maybe Jim wouldn’t be a damned hostage for the second time in his short Starfleet career.
But no. He’d told himself that he had to listen to his superiors, trust their decisions, and not stick his neck out. He’d convinced himself that if he went with his gut, he’d get everyone killed. So... he’d held back. He wasn’t about to be the martyr. He was a cadet, and that was the role he was supposed to play.
Fuck that shit.
A hot, sharp anger was slowly building, and its only target was himself.
He had known better. It wouldn’t have been reckless, crazy, heroic, or self-sacrificing. It wouldn’t have been sticking his neck out. It was that in the havoc and chaos, he’d been able to see the important facts and had come to the conclusion that they’d needed to get the hell out of there. He could have prevented all of this. Well, maybe not all of it, but some of it. Instead, he’d squashed his instincts, did what he was told, and...
Look at where it got me. He glanced down at Johan, who wasn’t looking good at all. Us.
Jim forced himself to take a deep breath. What was done was done, and they were stuck there now. He could hash over his mistakes later. For now, he had to keep himself and Johan alive, and maybe they’d have a chance to get out of there.
The Araxians were talking amongst themselves in their own language, and Jim regretted that he hadn’t learned more than just the basic greetings. Vaguely, he wished Uhura was there to help him figure out what they were saying, but she’d just blame him for getting them into this mess. Besides, he wouldn’t actually wish this on anyone.
Even if he couldn’t understand the Araxians, he could at least try to assess his situation.
The room was somewhat long and narrow. A bank of broad windows on the inner wall overlooked the huge storage bay with the dilithium, but the storage area was dark and he couldn’t see much through those windows. On the other side of the room, a few small, high windows let in daylight, but they were too high to let him see anything, even if he was standing. Beneath the outer windows were a line of storage cabinets. Beneath the inner windows was a set of computer control banks. On a worktable at one end of the room was precisely what Johan had reported to him: transmitting devices.
Sure, he wasn’t familiar with Araxian technology, but he knew transmitters when he saw them. Now that he saw the rest of the gear they were unpacking, he knew Johan had been right about the rest of it. This equipment was for explosives.
The fact that all of this equipment was already in the control room when they arrived told Jim something else: this was precisely where the Araxians had planned to be.
Somehow, in the middle of all this chaos, their little tour group of cadets and engineers had ended up in a building full of dilithium. That building had already been targeted and set up by the Araxians for something big. Judging by the way they were checking their transmitters, the explosives had already been rigged throughout the building. In fact, if Jim’s guess was right - and he figured he was unlucky enough that it probably would be - the explosives had probably been fixed to the crates of dilithium.
Push a button, and the city turns into a crater. Hell, a blast that big might shake the Athena out of orbit.
We’re the trump-card, Jim realized with sobering clarity. Whatever other damage was taking place around the city, this building would eventually become the epicenter in the power struggle that was developing. If these people were determined enough that they’d sacrifice everything for their goals, then yes, they could quite possibly destroy the whole city. One question remained unanswered.
What could have possibly driven them to this?
He had his theories, of course. Between what Bones had reported, what the Zhitoran had said, and what he’d seen himself, a vague picture was starting to resolve in his mind, but it was still just a guess. What the hell had actually happened? Jim hoped he’d find out.
It wasn’t as though there was much else he could do just then. He and Johan had been placed at the farthest corner from the door. Escape wasn’t even a possibility. He’d never get to the door before they’d shoot him, and even if he could, there was no way he’d be able to bring Johan. He was absolutely trapped.
Johan groaned again.
Jim cast a sideways glance at the guy. He looked worse than before, and Jim knew he couldn’t afford to wait. Hiding his nerves, he cleared his throat to get the Araxians’ attention.
“Yes, Terran?” the ringleader asked evenly.
“Uh... my name is Jim,” he said, trying to appear friendly and unthreatening. Simple was best. “And this is my friend, Johan. He’s injured, and I need to check on him. I’m not going to run off, and I don’t have any tools or weapons. Just... let me look him over, okay?”
The Araxian took a slow step towards him and gave him an appraising look. “You may call me Ghzeth. We would prefer you both alive. Please do check on your friend.”
Because this isn’t awkward at all, Jim thought bitterly to himself. But he gave a nod and said, “Thanks,” in an undertone as he turned and hunched down in front of Johan. “Come on, Plato. Talk to me here.”
He knew standard assessment protocol for an injured person, and had been trained to check every single part of the body for injury, but he’d seen exactly where the energy weapon had struck Johan. Carefully, Jim pulled back Johan’s shirt and pushed him slightly onto his side. He barely stopped himself from gasping.
There was a brutal scorch mark across Johan’s lower back. Blistering and angry, it was obvious that the damage went far below the surface. It looked like the weapon had done some serious internal damage, but Jim couldn’t even begin to guess what. It was close enough to his spine that the shock of it could have hit his nervous system. There could be internal organ damage - burns to kidneys, intestines, and who knew what else. Hell, the energy could have even caused lung damage. There was no way to know without a tricorder, but even if Jim had that, it wouldn’t actually be able to fix the damage. They needed to get Johan back to the ship. Immediately.
Jim settled him back down, cringing slightly at Johan’s moan of pain. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll get you out of here.”
“I’m afraid we cannot do that, Terran.”
“It’s Jim,” he snapped back, instantly regretting his tone, but pushing forward anyway. “I’m sorry, but you’re the ones who shot him. He wasn’t doing anything to you, and if he doesn’t get help, he’s going to die.”
Ghzeth actually looked sympathetic. “That would be regrettable, and we do apologize for the injury to your colleague. As you had been in this building for a significant amount of time, we feared that you had gathered information which could have undermined our efforts if you had shared it with the wrong people. We could not let you escape. That is why we fired. It is not our wish to harm Federation members. We are, however, fighting for our freedom. Your own Terran history would indicate that you should be sympathetic to our struggle.”
Jim opened his mouth to protest, but hell, the guy was right. Human history was packed with body-counts in the name of freedom, revolution, and liberty. As much as it made him sick to think of it, his study of history showed that without those sacrifices, the course of events on Earth could have gone much differently.
That still didn’t change the fact that he was caught up in the middle of someone else’s revolution - a fight that he didn’t fully understand - with a colleague who was dying in front of him. He cast a glance at Johan, who seemed to be almost on the cusp of regaining consciousness, and something clicked in his head.
Years ago, Johan’s father, Chief Petty Officer Theodore Johan, had died aboard the USS Kelvin. Now, as though history were playing a sick joke on him, a Kirk and a Johan, one generation removed, were in a fight for their lives once again. Jim swore to himself and to whatever powers might be listening, that he wasn’t going to let history play him the way it had played their fathers. He was going to get Johan out alive, no matter what it took. Hell, they were both going to get out alive. History was not about to repeat itself. Not on his watch.
Swallowing thickly, Jim turned back towards Ghzeth. “I’d be more sympathetic if I understood why you needed to blow up half of your city to prove your point. I thought you and the Axanar had decided to reunite! What happened?” Sure, Jim had his suspicions. Hints had been building up since they’d arrived on Araxis. Maybe now he’d get the real story. And once he had that, maybe he could do something to get them to release Johan, in the very least, if not both of them. Show sympathy, and maybe use that to create an understanding. Diplomacy 101.
“Young Terran... Jim...” Ghzeth gave him a somewhat flustered look, then quickly said something to one of his two associates in their own language. That Araxian nodded and left quickly, leaving Jim alone in the room with just two of them. Ghzeth looked back at Jim and shifted his rifle on his hip. “Our equipment is ready, and our contacts are in negotiations with the Axanar. We have the time, and I wish to explain this... just so that it may be heard. You deserve to know.”
“Know what?” Jim asked vaguely.
“It began almost 50 years ago,” Ghzeth began, as if he was telling a tale to a small child. It was so incongruous with their situation that Jim almost wanted to laugh at the ludicrous impression it made. Ghzeth didn’t seem to notice, and continued. “Some Axanar began traveling to our world, claiming they wished to join us, to be part of our society, to learn our ways and our philosophy. It was completely foreign to them. The very thought of an egalitarian democracy was something most Axanar couldn’t comprehend. But these few who arrived in small ships... they claimed that they wished to leave behind the oppressive system of servitude of the Axanar. How could we deny them?”
Jim frowned. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with them. Isolate yourselves.”
Ghzeth scowled. “Understand this... we are not isolationists. We merely desire not to live under the control of others. And as we accept all as equals... so we accepted these Axanar as brothers.
“Over time, we discovered that many of them had taken on roles of public service - the Peacekeepers, elected officials, Ministry of Energy. Some of us suspected their intentions, but could not convince the majority of our people that they had underhanded motives.”
Jim felt his eyes slowly growing wider. “They took over your society from the inside.”
“Precisely.” A dark expression twisted his features. “They were so absolutely convinced of our need to return to the Axanar way that they lived amongst us, as Araxians, lying to us and manipulating our society. It was insidious, Terran. Most did not wish to believe the threat until it was too late, and our world was taken as a trading token in this peace deal.”
Jim was slowly shaking his head in disbelief. He had suspected something like this, and had tried to tell his superiors, but to hear it like this, so plainly... it was unbelievable. It explained so much. “But... your colony looks so peaceful. I mean, everything seemed orderly and... well... perfect.” He blinked as a thought occurred to him. “Are you telling me that this is a police state?”
Ghzeth smiled, but it was dark with irony. “I have read your Terran history in my studies of the Federation. Have your police states not appeared the most orderly and peaceful at first glance? Is it not the same in police states throughout the quadrant?”
Jim could only nod. He thought of the deserted terrace at Parliament Square when the landing party had first arrived, the streets that seemed just a bit too empty, and the ridiculous security presence Starfleet had provided.
It was true. God damn it all, it was true.
A small device on Ghzeth’s belt chirped, and he quickly looked at it, cast a glance at his remaining colleague, and nodded. The other Araxian quickly went over to a pile of equipment on one of the far tables and began working with some of the devices. Ghzeth shifted his rifle again, making it clear to Jim that he was still perfectly in control, despite his cordial manner.
“Ten years ago, our cousins on Axanar reached their own crisis with the harvesting attacks, proof that their ways were unsustainable. Yet the Federation rescued them, which only solidified their belief that their ways were proper. As such, they sent an envoy to initiate the coup on our people. We had not realized how truly entrenched the Axanar were in our power structure until the envoy arrived, and our planet was already theirs. In the years since, we have tried desperately to negotiate and regain balance in our society through peaceful means, but we have failed.”
Jim frowned. “Why would your people have allowed so many... well... so many Axanar to gain so much power on your planet?
“Allowed? Jim, we voted for them! We are a democracy! And... most Araxians would prefer to pursue the sciences, arts, and other fields of academia, rather than to work the drudgery of politics and peacekeeping.”
Jim considered this. “So... when you’re not staging a war, what do you do? I mean you, personally?”
Ghzeth laughed bitterly. “Dear Terran, I am a historian. I have spent much of my life in our Halls of Records, the Archive and the Museum, preserving our story for all time, and sharing the past with those who will become our future. However, I study not only our people’s own story. I have studied the records of all space-faring races in our quadrant. History repeats itself. It is the nature of sentient life. The tight fist of tyranny, often under the guise of idealism, creates the veneer of order... until it can no longer contain the anger that boils beneath. Often, a single event brings the situation to a critical point, and violence becomes the only solution.”
Jim froze. Or maybe it just felt as though his veins were running with ice instead of blood. “The arrival of the Federation was the last straw.”
“It was,” Ghzeth confirmed. “We have pleaded with our leaders, but we have been barred from the Federation talks. Our concerns have not been addressed. Our lands are being stripped of dilithium, destroying natural beauty and polluting our rivers. The vestiges of our culture will be summarily destroyed if the Axanar system of subservience and ownership is imposed on our society.” His eyes took on a look of desperation. “They would destroy us, Jim. All that we are, and all that we stand for. It would be genocide without physical destruction. Given that as a possible future... the people of Araxis would prefer to die. I believe one of your planet’s minor states had such a motto: Live free or die.”
Jim searched his memory. “New Hampshire. One of the states on our North American continent.”
Ghzeth gave a sharp nod of approval. “A wise people. And our people believe likewise. Our active resistance force is not so large, and we have warned our people away from the target areas. Many have taken shelter or fled the city. We planned for a precision strike with minimal casualties, and nearly our entire population supports this action. We will not live under Axanar control. So now, you understand why we must do this. With the two of you, we have a greater chance of negotiating. The Federation must hear us, even if the Axanar try to silence us. We shall not be ignored.”
“You don’t want to detonate the dilithium, do you?” Jim asked, almost softly.
“No. We do not. Nor do we wish your deaths. We keep you here to give weight to our negotiations, yes, but also because you know of our plans.”
Jim looked at Ghzeth for a long moment, then down at Johan. His friend’s complexion was becoming ashen, and the clammy sweat on his skin didn’t look good. He was still moaning faintly. Jim reached over and rested his hand against Johan’s neck, and found that it was startlingly cool to the touch. In his non-expert opinion, it looked like severe shock. Johan needed a doctor, and Jim needed to make his move.
He looked back at Ghzeth and steeled himself. “Well... as a free being to another free being... I have a proposal. This man needs a doctor or he’s going to die. I swore that I’d get him back alive. If you let me call for help... I’ll cooperate. Anything you ask. Just let me call for help. Give him a chance to live.”
Ghzeth regarded him solemnly for a moment, and Jim was sure the guy would make a damned good poker shark. Then, without flinching, he reached to his belt and removed a small device - a communicator, Jim guessed. Ghzeth pressed a couple of buttons, and said to his colleague, “Detonations Team Primary to the Negotiations team.”
An unintelligible response came back. Araxian language, Jim realized.
To his surprise, Ghzeth interrupted him “In Federation Standard, my friend.”
A pause. Then...
“Negotiations Team Secondary here. Primary is currently in talks with Parliament. Status report?”
“One of our Terran captives is severely injured and may be dying. If we are to negotiate with the Federation, it would be best to ensure his health. The uninjured captive is being very cooperative, and...” He looked down at Jim. “And I think we should comply with his request for a Federation medic to be allowed through safely.”
“You’re not authorized to relinquish the captive. The security risk is too great.”
“We do not intend to release him. We wish simply to allow a Federation medic to safely come through, treat the injured Terran, and leave unharmed. It would be a show of good faith. The Federation’s history indicates that they would respect this.”
“We would,” Jim said earnestly.
“And what if they send down a highly trained security operative, not a medic?”
Ghzeth opened his mouth, then hesitated, but before he could speak, the communicator clicked and another voice spoke.
“Detonation Team Primary, this is Control Team Secondary. I’m monitoring communications. I met with a Federation medic, and I would trust that if we allow him access to the patient, he will honor the agreement. For our security, I advise that we allow only that specific medic to enter the building.”
Ghzeth nodded slowly. “A wise decision. Will you make the contact?”
“Yes, I’ll handle it. But promise me one thing.”
“Yes?” Ghzeth’s voice wavered slightly.
“If they send him, do not harm this Terran. I respect him as I would respect a fellow Araxian. And as a fellow medic.”
“You have my word. Detonation Team Primary out.” Ghzeth pressed a button on his communicator, then nodded gravely at Jim. “That was one of our resistance leaders. He was a medic who left Axanar with the original colonists. I trust his judgement. Your friend will have medical aid soon.”
Jim nodded warily. “I hope so.” In the back of his mind, he was wondering which Federation doctor the guy was talking about. He hoped it wasn’t Bones.
A tight moan from Johan pushed that thought from Jim’s mind. A quick check showed Jim that Johan’s status hadn’t changed much, but that couldn’t last long. “Come on, Plato. Hang in there, buddy. We’ve got someone on the way.”
Off to the side, Ghzeth was speaking in Araxian to the other person in the room. His rifle was still at the ready, and Jim wasn’t about to forget that. There was no way to make a break for it, and Ghzeth was well aware of that. For now, he was at an impasse.
Carefully, gently, ignoring the ache in his own gut, Jim shifted himself around and rested Johan’s head on his lap. The floor was hard, and there was nothing else he could possibly do to give the guy any comfort.
Absently, he thought about the few days he’d spent with the Engineering team. Plato’s easy manner and thoughtful comments. Gadget’s uncanny affinity for all things mechanical, and quirky ability to make any small piece of equipment work like magic. Parker’s bizarre mix of idealism and cynicism. He hoped Hodges and Goldberg had gotten out okay, along with everyone else, but that was beyond his ability to help now. Instead, he had one man he could save, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t do what his own father had failed to do for the Johan family.
Jim rested a hand across Johan’s forehead, flinching slightly at how cold and clammy he felt. They had to get a doctor soon. “It’s okay. I told you... I’m getting you out of here alive.”
Johan groaned again.
“Easy there. Relax. Just keep breathing.” Jim was speaking automatically. Anything to fill the void. He kept glancing between Johan and the Araxians at the other end of the room. Ghzeth was still speaking with the other Araxian, but he never took eyes off Jim and Johan.
In some twisted way, Jim almost felt like Ghzeth was testing him. He couldn’t let that make him nervous. Instead, Jim focused, and let his world narrow to the life of the man he’d promised to protect and the room where he was trapped. “Hang in there, Plato. Just a little bit longer,” he said as he continued to scan the room with his eyes.
“Blues?”
Jim startled and looked down. Johan’s eyes were barely opened, but he was there. “Plato! Talk to me. No, don’t try to move. We’ve got a doctor on the way.”
“What... the hell happened?” Johan’s voice was rough and weak, but he was coherent.
“You decided to play dodge-ball with an energy rifle.”
“Funny.” He blinked a few times. “Where are we?”
Jim couldn’t hold back the frown. “Same building. Upper room. Hodges, Nadeau, and Wilcox made it out.”
“We didn’t.”
Jim shook his head. “But we will. The Araxians captured us, but... they don’t want us dead. And... I actually... I understand why they’re doing this. I don’t think they’re wrong. But anyway, I’ve negotiated for a doctor to come down. We’ll get you fixed up and you’ll be fine.”
For a moment, Johan’s gaze sharpened. “What’s the damage?”
Jim forced a neutral look. “They hit you in the lower back. It’s an ugly burn, but it doesn’t look like anything they can’t fix.”
“How long... have I been out?”
“Not sure. More than a half hour.”
Johan nodded, then flinched. Then cringed harder. “Wish I was... still out.”
“I know... just relax... keep breathing. They’ll have someone here soon.”
Johan grunted in reply. His eyes blinked a few times, breathing too fast and shallow for a minute, and then his body went slack again.
Trying not to panic, Jim pressed his fingers against Johan’s neck to check for a pulse. It was still there, but in his unprofessional perception, it felt much too fast and weak. Jim wasn’t sure what else he could do, but then Ghzeth abruptly walked up to them.
“Stand.”
Carefully, apologizing to Johan for jostling him, Jim slid out from underneath the man’s head and stood in front of Ghzeth.
“Terran,” Ghzeth said formally, “the Control Team has contacted your ship, and they have agreed to send one of your medics... doctors... if we prove to them that the information we have provided them is true, and that you are still alive. Convince them that we will not fire if they transport your doctor to the designated location, but do not reveal anything else. This will be beneficial to both of us.”
Jim’s heart was in his throat as he the Araxian slowly handed him the communicator. He wasn’t being given the chance to contact the Athena out of the goodness of this guy’s heart. No, it was because the Ghzeth had calculated that it would be to his advantage to let this happen. Jim had to remember that. As polite as their captors had been, they were absolutely dedicated to their cause, and nothing would come between them and their goal of regaining their freedom.
Jim could understand that. He really could. He could almost sympathize, but right now, he had his own bigger concern. He had been placed as the leader of a unit, however small, however unexpected, and his absolute duty was to get everyone out alive. Swallowing to ease the tightness in his throat, Jim held the communicator up to his mouth and spoke.
“This is Cadet...” For a split second, he hesitated. Ghzeth was a historian, and could possibly recognize his name. He wondered briefly if it would cause him even bigger problems if he revealed it, but then he realized that he couldn’t hide from his name, or from himself. Squaring his shoulders, he spoke clearly into the communicator.
“This is Cadet James Kirk.”
*********
To Chapter 16
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Pike, Finney
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7,242
Warnings: Foul language, political situations, military stuff.
Summary: As cadets on a summer internship, Kirk and McCoy are supposed to keep their eyes open and their mouths shut. As far as Bones is concerned, that’s just plain wrong on Jim Kirk, but Jim seems determined to follow orders and fall in line for a change. After all, they’ve both seen enough trouble in two years at the Academy, and this is the Peace Mission of Axanar. However, when a mystery starts to weave itself around the mission, and the senior officers don’t seem interested in investigating, how far can Kirk and McCoy let it go?
Notes: Sorry for the slight delay. It's been a busy week! Two job interviews, my EMT practical exam, and general insanity. Anyway, sorry for making you wait, especially considering where we left Jim. Back to the story!
Previous chapters: One, Two, Three, Four(A), Four(B), Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen
Chapter 15
Leonard finished working on Liu’s leg in short order. It had been an ugly wound, but a simple repair. The guy would sleep off the anesthetic while he received a dose of blood replenishers. He’d be fine.
Really, all Leonard wanted to do was to go find Jim and make sure he was okay, but there were other injured people to tend to. By now, they should have evacuated most Starfleet personnel from the planet, starting with the gaggle of cadets. That meant if Jim wasn’t in sickbay, then he hadn’t been severely injured. Even though it was morbid, Leonard had already checked the ship’s record of those killed in action. Jim wasn’t on the list.
On the other hand, two security officers, including Lieutenant Voohrs, were already listed amongst the dead, along with the Rigellian Ambassador, a science tech, and one cadet whose face Leonard couldn’t push out of his mind. It was sobering to see how quickly a simple diplomatic mission had turned into a nightmare. Even though he knew shit-all nothing about diplomacy, Leonard knew the fallout was going to be awful.
What he didn’t know was how it had all gone so wrong.
Hadn’t he given his superior officers enough warnings and clues? Hadn’t Jim tried to get them to listen? For that matter, what the hell was the captain thinking anyway? Dammit, he didn’t even know what to think himself anymore.
Hadn’t all the problems been related? What about the unexplained injuries to Brex and T’Val? The odd behavior of different groups of Araxians? Were they really Araxians, or were they Axanar? What Jethan and Rhexen had told him made so much sense, but who was wrong and who was right? What would the Axanar say if they told their side of the story? And... goddammit, what the hell was really happening down there?
Leonard’s mind was churning furiously as he blew through Sickbay, looking for the next patient who needed his help. He hurried over to treatment bay one where Doctor Brex seemed to be finishing placing osteo-stabilizers on a human’s leg to prep for an osteostim session. Brex was instructing a medic, “Okay, take him to osteostim for a 20-minute session, level seven. He needs longer, but we’ve got too many patients to do full treatments for everyone right now.”
“Yes, Doctor,” the medic replied as they transferred the patient quickly to a gurney, and the medic pushed him away.
Brex turned his attention to Leonard and spoke without ceremony. “McCoy, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. When I heard what was happening, and I knew you were down there, and there was no way for me to know if you were okay, I... well, I’m glad you made it.”
“So am I.” He looked at Brex’s tense expression and had to ask. “How are you holding up?”
Brex looked around Sickbay, then gave Leonard a plaintive look. “My patients are in pain, my staff is frantic, and I can’t sense any of it from them.” He clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders. “But... I’m a doctor, and a Starfleet Officer. I’ve run a Sickbay through more than a few major disasters. I don’t have to feel my patients’ anguish to know they’re hurting, and I still have the skills to treat them. They need us.” He glanced back over his shoulder, and when he looked back at Leonard, his expression was calm again. “What about you?”
“I...” Leonard hesitated. He didn’t want to talk about it. They were in a crisis, and there were patients who needed him, but...
“Leonard?” Brex was frowning in concern, and Leonard knew he couldn’t - shouldn’t - hide information. Not from Brex.
“Down on the planet,” he began uneasily, “I was touring the science facilities when the bombing began. And...” He looked back over his shoulder, then back at Brex, and finally gave in. “And we lost Cadet Hererra.” Then he shook his head angrily. “No, dammit, I lost Cadet Hererra. I’d taken charge of the scene, and I sent him towards the building to triage victims... and they... they shot him, sir. Right in front of me. There was nothing I could do.” He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths. He had to hold it together.
For a split second, Brex’s eyes widened, but he quickly schooled his expression back into its professional neutrality. “I understand. Can you still focus on your job?”
Leonard nodded. “Don’t much have a choice. I’ve already let one too many people die today.”
“Good man,” Brex said. “We’ll talk when the dust settles. Right now, we’ve got bigger problems to...” Brex’s voice trailed off, then he flinched and quickly pressed his right hand to his temple.
“Doctor Brex!” Leonard grabbed Brex’s elbow as the Betazoid teetered slightly on his feet. “Are you okay? Need to sit down?”
“No... I’m fine. Just a headache.” He looked up at Leonard with a wan grin, but his face was still slightly pinched with discomfort. “Been a stressful day.”
“You’re telling me. But if you’re having trouble, maybe you should sit down for a little while before -”
Brex shook his head, cutting him off. “It’s annoying, but I can manage it. We’ve got patients who need us.” He stood a bit straighter, even though the motion looked forced. “You ready to work?”
“Always.”
“Good.” Without any further hesitation, Brex hurried out of the office with Leonard on his heels.
Sickbay was chaos, and Leonard was glad to descend into the madness again as Brex rattled off instructions. “We’re setting up a head and neck trauma case for surgery in bay one, and I’m taking that one. Singh and Ankewicz are working on a complex trauma in bay three. There’s a security crewman in bay two. Broken ribs, punctured lung, broken clavicle. He’s already been sedated for his comfort, and the injuries are under stabilizers. I need you to take over his care. Have nurse Stewart assist. When you’re done, check in with me and we’ll see where you’re needed next.”
“I’m on it,” Leonard said.
A few minutes later, he was just about to begin repairing broken ribs on the crewman in bay three when the intercom sounded an alert.
“Bridge to Medical. The Parliament building has taken another hit. One additional Federation casualty. Critical injuries. Please standby for emergency transport.”
Leonard heard Brex’s voice call out, “This is Medical! We’re standing by!” Then, “I need a team of medics ready to receive the casualty. Singh, let Ankewicz handle your patient. I need you to evaluate our incoming.”
Outside of the treatment bay, Leonard watched two young medics hurry by. He tried to ignore it and focus on the patient in front of him as he prepared to open, but something about the report was bothering him slightly. I thought all the Federation and Starfleet personnel would have been brought up to the ship already. He was about to call out his question to Brex, but before he could, the familiar hum of a transporter beam filled the room, followed by a flurry of voices.
Leonard’s professional focus was on repositioning a broken rib, but he couldn’t completely ignore the buzz from the center of the room.
“This is... this is a Kazarite.” She cleared her throat. “Doctor Brex, have you ever worked on a Kazarite?”
“No,” came the reply. Then after a pause, “I’ve never met one.”
There were sounds of people shuffling around and a tricorder whirring. “Patient is conscious with crush injuries to both upper and lower extremities, head trauma, some internal bleeding. Connor, go grab a stretcher. Nguyen, get his robes off.” There were more shuffling noises, then Singh’s hesitant voice.
“Doctor Brex?”
Something in her tone caught Leonard’s attention, and he whispered to Nurse Stewart, “Hold this stabilizer here.”
Stewart gave a questioning look, but then he nodded and smoothly took over the osteostabilizers.
Feeling a bit guilty for walking away from a procedure, but knowing that the patient was perfectly stable for the moment, Leonard let his curiosity get the better of him. He went to the end of the treatment bay and looked into the center of the room.
On the floor was an alien of a species Leonard didn’t recognise. Humanoid with heavy features, dark, gray-brown skin, and darker hair. He wore long layered robes, which the medic was in the process of cutting away. He appeared to be semi-conscious... and babbling to himself.
Off to the side, Doctor Brex was standing there, staring at him, with a startled expression on his face.
Leonard took in all of this in just a couple of seconds before springing into action. He positioned himself at the patient’s head, opening the airway and holding the neck steady, and nodded at Doctor Singh. “Let me help you get him moved.”
Singh looked up from her tricorder. “Thanks. Let him get these robes off first.”
Leonard looked down at the being’s face. He was smeared with dirt and ash, and an ooze of blue-purple liquid, which Leonard figured was normal for this species’ blood, trickled across his brow. His eyes were open, but glassy and distant. Leonard didn’t know the baselines for this species, but if they were anything recognizable, he was in shock and teetering on the edge of consciousness.
He was also mumbling.
In Standard.
“...it was my mistake... they convinced me... had no choice... should have known... should have known...”
Leonard leaned down closer. “What should you have known?”
For a fraction of a second, Leonard swore the alien’s eyes focused on him, then then closed again, and the mumbling continued. “My fault. My fault... so sorry... I never meant... by the time I realized... it was too late. So sorry...”
“McCoy, we’re ready to move him,” Singh barked out.
Leonard started, but quickly responded, helping to move the patient onto the lev-stretcher. The Kazarite groaned slightly, but then kept babbling to himself. Leonard wanted to listen, but the stretcher was being pushed away with Doctor Singh leading two medics and the last available nurse.
For a moment, Leonard stared after them as they rounded the corner to the last treatment area, usually reserved for isolation cases, but they had run out of regular spaces to put patients. Then, he realized he wasn’t the only one standing there, staring. He cast a glance sideways.
“Doctor Brex?”
Brex was standing still as a statue, his expression half-stunned, half-confused. Finally, he spoke. “He’s familiar.”
Leonard frowned. “If he’s a Federation Ambassador, that means he was on the ship, right? Did you do his physical?”
“No,” Brex said, shaking his head slowly. “On one level, I think I’ve never seen him before. But at the same time... I am completely convinced that not only have I seen him before... but it’s really important that I did.”
Leonard rounded on Brex. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure.” Brex shook his head. “Did you hear what he said? When he was mumbling there?”
“I...” Leonard cast a quick glance back towards where they had brought the strange alien. He couldn’t see them around the corner in the treatment area at the back of the room, but he could hear Doctor Singh barking orders. He turned back to Brex. “Something about... something being his fault. That he should have known, and that he was sorry. Brex... where do you think you saw him?”
For a moment, Brex was silent, then his eyes went wide. “Leonard... I think he’s what I was supposed to forget.” But before Leonard could ask what that was supposed to mean, Brex’s eyes squeezed shut and he grabbed at his temples with his hands, teetering slightly on his feet.
“Doctor Brex!” This time, Leonard didn’t even hesitate as he took Brex by the arm and started pulling him towards a chair. “That’s it, you need to sit down and let me scan you before you go anywhere near another patient. You’re going to -”
“Stop, McCoy. I need to -”
“Not until I scan you and figure out what the hell is going on. Now sit.” He lowered Brex into a chair, but when he turned back around with a tricorder, Brex’s eyes were clear and he didn’t look like he was in pain any more. “Doctor Brex?”
He blinked a couple of times, and his eyes refocused on Leonard’s face. “My telepathy is back.” He blinked again. “Completely.”
Leonard startled slightly, flipping open the tricorder and activating the scanner automatically. “What? How? I mean, that’s great but - ”
“But why now?” Brex finished smoothly for him. “And why all at once? I have no explanation... and...” Completely steady, Brex stood and walked quickly across the medical bay towards the back treatment area. “Doctor Singh!”
Singh was already picking up a laser scalpel, and the sterile field was humming expectantly, but she looked up. “Yes, Doctor?”
“The Kazarite... can we still communicate with him before you start?”
She shook her head. “He was losing consciousness anyway, but we just placed him under heavy sedation so we could begin treatment. We need to start on the bleeding here. Why?”
Brex shook his head. “Nothing. My apologies. Please continue.” He turned and started walking back towards bay one, where he’d been working on his own patient.
Leonard watched him, and boggled. “Doctor Brex? What just happened here?”
Brex stopped and looked back over his shoulder without turning around. His expression was oddly neutral and guarded - something Leonard had never seen on him. “I don’t know, McCoy. Doesn’t matter. He’s sedated and will probably be out for hours, and we’ve got patients who need us. We’ve stepped away from them for too long. Come on... we’ve got a job to do.” Without another word, he hurried off to the patient who was waiting for him.
Leonard looked back and forth between the treatment area with the Kazarite, and at Brex, who was already picking up his equipment again and re-entering the sterile field. “Well ain’t this just grand,” he growled under his breath. He’d figure it out later. Besides, Brex was right. He had a job to do. Nobody else was going to die on his watch today.
*********
They weren’t going to kill him, Jim had learned. At least, they didn’t want to. Not unless they had to. In fact, for people who were aiming high-powered weapons at his head, their captors were being bizarrely polite.
But that didn’t mean they would be released either.
The Araxians had immediately asked them who knew about the bomb, and Jim had been too stunned to keep a poker face and pretend he knew nothing. In the very least, he’d convinced them that the people who had escaped didn’t know, and they hadn’t pursued. With any luck, Hodges, Nadeau, and Wilcox were safely on the Athena already. However, Jim knew about the bomb, and there was no way his captors were letting that bit of intelligence slip out the door. Jim had no illusions that these people wouldn’t kill him if they decided that it was necessary for some reason.
With two of the Araxians training weapons on him, the third had helped him carry Johan up the stairs, across a catwalk, and to a room that had to be some sort of control room. His gut was aching more now, but he couldn’t let them see that he was injured. Besides, it wasn’t that bad. He hadn’t taken a closer look at it, but he figured it was fairly superficial. Some surface-level muscles at the worst. He could still function, and that was all that mattered.
“Put him down there, Terran,” the guy who seemed to be their leader said, pointing to a spot on the floor. His tone was neither cruel nor harsh, but it didn’t leave room for disobedience.
“Okay,” Jim replied, trying not to create problems until he knew more. No point in being disagreeable when, for the moment, there didn’t seem to be a direct threat of further violence.
With help, Jim lowered Johan to the floor, and sat down beside him at the insistence of the Araxians. He didn’t like the faint moaning sounds the other man was making. He needed a damned med kit. Fuck that, he needed to get them the hell out of there. The only thing he was hinging his hopes on was the fact that the rest of the team had gotten away. He hadn’t heard any weapons fire outside. With any luck at all, everyone else was back on the ship and alive.
Now, he just needed to get himself and Johan out of there.
Right.
He should have gotten them all out of there sooner. He should have trusted his instincts. Fuck, Pike had told him to trust his instincts! If he had, maybe they’d all be back aboard the ship right now. If they’d made a push for it, maybe they’d have gotten Finney out fast enough and he’d be alive in sickbay getting patched up right now. Maybe Johan wouldn’t have been shot. And maybe Jim wouldn’t be a damned hostage for the second time in his short Starfleet career.
But no. He’d told himself that he had to listen to his superiors, trust their decisions, and not stick his neck out. He’d convinced himself that if he went with his gut, he’d get everyone killed. So... he’d held back. He wasn’t about to be the martyr. He was a cadet, and that was the role he was supposed to play.
Fuck that shit.
A hot, sharp anger was slowly building, and its only target was himself.
He had known better. It wouldn’t have been reckless, crazy, heroic, or self-sacrificing. It wouldn’t have been sticking his neck out. It was that in the havoc and chaos, he’d been able to see the important facts and had come to the conclusion that they’d needed to get the hell out of there. He could have prevented all of this. Well, maybe not all of it, but some of it. Instead, he’d squashed his instincts, did what he was told, and...
Look at where it got me. He glanced down at Johan, who wasn’t looking good at all. Us.
Jim forced himself to take a deep breath. What was done was done, and they were stuck there now. He could hash over his mistakes later. For now, he had to keep himself and Johan alive, and maybe they’d have a chance to get out of there.
The Araxians were talking amongst themselves in their own language, and Jim regretted that he hadn’t learned more than just the basic greetings. Vaguely, he wished Uhura was there to help him figure out what they were saying, but she’d just blame him for getting them into this mess. Besides, he wouldn’t actually wish this on anyone.
Even if he couldn’t understand the Araxians, he could at least try to assess his situation.
The room was somewhat long and narrow. A bank of broad windows on the inner wall overlooked the huge storage bay with the dilithium, but the storage area was dark and he couldn’t see much through those windows. On the other side of the room, a few small, high windows let in daylight, but they were too high to let him see anything, even if he was standing. Beneath the outer windows were a line of storage cabinets. Beneath the inner windows was a set of computer control banks. On a worktable at one end of the room was precisely what Johan had reported to him: transmitting devices.
Sure, he wasn’t familiar with Araxian technology, but he knew transmitters when he saw them. Now that he saw the rest of the gear they were unpacking, he knew Johan had been right about the rest of it. This equipment was for explosives.
The fact that all of this equipment was already in the control room when they arrived told Jim something else: this was precisely where the Araxians had planned to be.
Somehow, in the middle of all this chaos, their little tour group of cadets and engineers had ended up in a building full of dilithium. That building had already been targeted and set up by the Araxians for something big. Judging by the way they were checking their transmitters, the explosives had already been rigged throughout the building. In fact, if Jim’s guess was right - and he figured he was unlucky enough that it probably would be - the explosives had probably been fixed to the crates of dilithium.
Push a button, and the city turns into a crater. Hell, a blast that big might shake the Athena out of orbit.
We’re the trump-card, Jim realized with sobering clarity. Whatever other damage was taking place around the city, this building would eventually become the epicenter in the power struggle that was developing. If these people were determined enough that they’d sacrifice everything for their goals, then yes, they could quite possibly destroy the whole city. One question remained unanswered.
What could have possibly driven them to this?
He had his theories, of course. Between what Bones had reported, what the Zhitoran had said, and what he’d seen himself, a vague picture was starting to resolve in his mind, but it was still just a guess. What the hell had actually happened? Jim hoped he’d find out.
It wasn’t as though there was much else he could do just then. He and Johan had been placed at the farthest corner from the door. Escape wasn’t even a possibility. He’d never get to the door before they’d shoot him, and even if he could, there was no way he’d be able to bring Johan. He was absolutely trapped.
Johan groaned again.
Jim cast a sideways glance at the guy. He looked worse than before, and Jim knew he couldn’t afford to wait. Hiding his nerves, he cleared his throat to get the Araxians’ attention.
“Yes, Terran?” the ringleader asked evenly.
“Uh... my name is Jim,” he said, trying to appear friendly and unthreatening. Simple was best. “And this is my friend, Johan. He’s injured, and I need to check on him. I’m not going to run off, and I don’t have any tools or weapons. Just... let me look him over, okay?”
The Araxian took a slow step towards him and gave him an appraising look. “You may call me Ghzeth. We would prefer you both alive. Please do check on your friend.”
Because this isn’t awkward at all, Jim thought bitterly to himself. But he gave a nod and said, “Thanks,” in an undertone as he turned and hunched down in front of Johan. “Come on, Plato. Talk to me here.”
He knew standard assessment protocol for an injured person, and had been trained to check every single part of the body for injury, but he’d seen exactly where the energy weapon had struck Johan. Carefully, Jim pulled back Johan’s shirt and pushed him slightly onto his side. He barely stopped himself from gasping.
There was a brutal scorch mark across Johan’s lower back. Blistering and angry, it was obvious that the damage went far below the surface. It looked like the weapon had done some serious internal damage, but Jim couldn’t even begin to guess what. It was close enough to his spine that the shock of it could have hit his nervous system. There could be internal organ damage - burns to kidneys, intestines, and who knew what else. Hell, the energy could have even caused lung damage. There was no way to know without a tricorder, but even if Jim had that, it wouldn’t actually be able to fix the damage. They needed to get Johan back to the ship. Immediately.
Jim settled him back down, cringing slightly at Johan’s moan of pain. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll get you out of here.”
“I’m afraid we cannot do that, Terran.”
“It’s Jim,” he snapped back, instantly regretting his tone, but pushing forward anyway. “I’m sorry, but you’re the ones who shot him. He wasn’t doing anything to you, and if he doesn’t get help, he’s going to die.”
Ghzeth actually looked sympathetic. “That would be regrettable, and we do apologize for the injury to your colleague. As you had been in this building for a significant amount of time, we feared that you had gathered information which could have undermined our efforts if you had shared it with the wrong people. We could not let you escape. That is why we fired. It is not our wish to harm Federation members. We are, however, fighting for our freedom. Your own Terran history would indicate that you should be sympathetic to our struggle.”
Jim opened his mouth to protest, but hell, the guy was right. Human history was packed with body-counts in the name of freedom, revolution, and liberty. As much as it made him sick to think of it, his study of history showed that without those sacrifices, the course of events on Earth could have gone much differently.
That still didn’t change the fact that he was caught up in the middle of someone else’s revolution - a fight that he didn’t fully understand - with a colleague who was dying in front of him. He cast a glance at Johan, who seemed to be almost on the cusp of regaining consciousness, and something clicked in his head.
Years ago, Johan’s father, Chief Petty Officer Theodore Johan, had died aboard the USS Kelvin. Now, as though history were playing a sick joke on him, a Kirk and a Johan, one generation removed, were in a fight for their lives once again. Jim swore to himself and to whatever powers might be listening, that he wasn’t going to let history play him the way it had played their fathers. He was going to get Johan out alive, no matter what it took. Hell, they were both going to get out alive. History was not about to repeat itself. Not on his watch.
Swallowing thickly, Jim turned back towards Ghzeth. “I’d be more sympathetic if I understood why you needed to blow up half of your city to prove your point. I thought you and the Axanar had decided to reunite! What happened?” Sure, Jim had his suspicions. Hints had been building up since they’d arrived on Araxis. Maybe now he’d get the real story. And once he had that, maybe he could do something to get them to release Johan, in the very least, if not both of them. Show sympathy, and maybe use that to create an understanding. Diplomacy 101.
“Young Terran... Jim...” Ghzeth gave him a somewhat flustered look, then quickly said something to one of his two associates in their own language. That Araxian nodded and left quickly, leaving Jim alone in the room with just two of them. Ghzeth looked back at Jim and shifted his rifle on his hip. “Our equipment is ready, and our contacts are in negotiations with the Axanar. We have the time, and I wish to explain this... just so that it may be heard. You deserve to know.”
“Know what?” Jim asked vaguely.
“It began almost 50 years ago,” Ghzeth began, as if he was telling a tale to a small child. It was so incongruous with their situation that Jim almost wanted to laugh at the ludicrous impression it made. Ghzeth didn’t seem to notice, and continued. “Some Axanar began traveling to our world, claiming they wished to join us, to be part of our society, to learn our ways and our philosophy. It was completely foreign to them. The very thought of an egalitarian democracy was something most Axanar couldn’t comprehend. But these few who arrived in small ships... they claimed that they wished to leave behind the oppressive system of servitude of the Axanar. How could we deny them?”
Jim frowned. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with them. Isolate yourselves.”
Ghzeth scowled. “Understand this... we are not isolationists. We merely desire not to live under the control of others. And as we accept all as equals... so we accepted these Axanar as brothers.
“Over time, we discovered that many of them had taken on roles of public service - the Peacekeepers, elected officials, Ministry of Energy. Some of us suspected their intentions, but could not convince the majority of our people that they had underhanded motives.”
Jim felt his eyes slowly growing wider. “They took over your society from the inside.”
“Precisely.” A dark expression twisted his features. “They were so absolutely convinced of our need to return to the Axanar way that they lived amongst us, as Araxians, lying to us and manipulating our society. It was insidious, Terran. Most did not wish to believe the threat until it was too late, and our world was taken as a trading token in this peace deal.”
Jim was slowly shaking his head in disbelief. He had suspected something like this, and had tried to tell his superiors, but to hear it like this, so plainly... it was unbelievable. It explained so much. “But... your colony looks so peaceful. I mean, everything seemed orderly and... well... perfect.” He blinked as a thought occurred to him. “Are you telling me that this is a police state?”
Ghzeth smiled, but it was dark with irony. “I have read your Terran history in my studies of the Federation. Have your police states not appeared the most orderly and peaceful at first glance? Is it not the same in police states throughout the quadrant?”
Jim could only nod. He thought of the deserted terrace at Parliament Square when the landing party had first arrived, the streets that seemed just a bit too empty, and the ridiculous security presence Starfleet had provided.
It was true. God damn it all, it was true.
A small device on Ghzeth’s belt chirped, and he quickly looked at it, cast a glance at his remaining colleague, and nodded. The other Araxian quickly went over to a pile of equipment on one of the far tables and began working with some of the devices. Ghzeth shifted his rifle again, making it clear to Jim that he was still perfectly in control, despite his cordial manner.
“Ten years ago, our cousins on Axanar reached their own crisis with the harvesting attacks, proof that their ways were unsustainable. Yet the Federation rescued them, which only solidified their belief that their ways were proper. As such, they sent an envoy to initiate the coup on our people. We had not realized how truly entrenched the Axanar were in our power structure until the envoy arrived, and our planet was already theirs. In the years since, we have tried desperately to negotiate and regain balance in our society through peaceful means, but we have failed.”
Jim frowned. “Why would your people have allowed so many... well... so many Axanar to gain so much power on your planet?
“Allowed? Jim, we voted for them! We are a democracy! And... most Araxians would prefer to pursue the sciences, arts, and other fields of academia, rather than to work the drudgery of politics and peacekeeping.”
Jim considered this. “So... when you’re not staging a war, what do you do? I mean you, personally?”
Ghzeth laughed bitterly. “Dear Terran, I am a historian. I have spent much of my life in our Halls of Records, the Archive and the Museum, preserving our story for all time, and sharing the past with those who will become our future. However, I study not only our people’s own story. I have studied the records of all space-faring races in our quadrant. History repeats itself. It is the nature of sentient life. The tight fist of tyranny, often under the guise of idealism, creates the veneer of order... until it can no longer contain the anger that boils beneath. Often, a single event brings the situation to a critical point, and violence becomes the only solution.”
Jim froze. Or maybe it just felt as though his veins were running with ice instead of blood. “The arrival of the Federation was the last straw.”
“It was,” Ghzeth confirmed. “We have pleaded with our leaders, but we have been barred from the Federation talks. Our concerns have not been addressed. Our lands are being stripped of dilithium, destroying natural beauty and polluting our rivers. The vestiges of our culture will be summarily destroyed if the Axanar system of subservience and ownership is imposed on our society.” His eyes took on a look of desperation. “They would destroy us, Jim. All that we are, and all that we stand for. It would be genocide without physical destruction. Given that as a possible future... the people of Araxis would prefer to die. I believe one of your planet’s minor states had such a motto: Live free or die.”
Jim searched his memory. “New Hampshire. One of the states on our North American continent.”
Ghzeth gave a sharp nod of approval. “A wise people. And our people believe likewise. Our active resistance force is not so large, and we have warned our people away from the target areas. Many have taken shelter or fled the city. We planned for a precision strike with minimal casualties, and nearly our entire population supports this action. We will not live under Axanar control. So now, you understand why we must do this. With the two of you, we have a greater chance of negotiating. The Federation must hear us, even if the Axanar try to silence us. We shall not be ignored.”
“You don’t want to detonate the dilithium, do you?” Jim asked, almost softly.
“No. We do not. Nor do we wish your deaths. We keep you here to give weight to our negotiations, yes, but also because you know of our plans.”
Jim looked at Ghzeth for a long moment, then down at Johan. His friend’s complexion was becoming ashen, and the clammy sweat on his skin didn’t look good. He was still moaning faintly. Jim reached over and rested his hand against Johan’s neck, and found that it was startlingly cool to the touch. In his non-expert opinion, it looked like severe shock. Johan needed a doctor, and Jim needed to make his move.
He looked back at Ghzeth and steeled himself. “Well... as a free being to another free being... I have a proposal. This man needs a doctor or he’s going to die. I swore that I’d get him back alive. If you let me call for help... I’ll cooperate. Anything you ask. Just let me call for help. Give him a chance to live.”
Ghzeth regarded him solemnly for a moment, and Jim was sure the guy would make a damned good poker shark. Then, without flinching, he reached to his belt and removed a small device - a communicator, Jim guessed. Ghzeth pressed a couple of buttons, and said to his colleague, “Detonations Team Primary to the Negotiations team.”
An unintelligible response came back. Araxian language, Jim realized.
To his surprise, Ghzeth interrupted him “In Federation Standard, my friend.”
A pause. Then...
“Negotiations Team Secondary here. Primary is currently in talks with Parliament. Status report?”
“One of our Terran captives is severely injured and may be dying. If we are to negotiate with the Federation, it would be best to ensure his health. The uninjured captive is being very cooperative, and...” He looked down at Jim. “And I think we should comply with his request for a Federation medic to be allowed through safely.”
“You’re not authorized to relinquish the captive. The security risk is too great.”
“We do not intend to release him. We wish simply to allow a Federation medic to safely come through, treat the injured Terran, and leave unharmed. It would be a show of good faith. The Federation’s history indicates that they would respect this.”
“We would,” Jim said earnestly.
“And what if they send down a highly trained security operative, not a medic?”
Ghzeth opened his mouth, then hesitated, but before he could speak, the communicator clicked and another voice spoke.
“Detonation Team Primary, this is Control Team Secondary. I’m monitoring communications. I met with a Federation medic, and I would trust that if we allow him access to the patient, he will honor the agreement. For our security, I advise that we allow only that specific medic to enter the building.”
Ghzeth nodded slowly. “A wise decision. Will you make the contact?”
“Yes, I’ll handle it. But promise me one thing.”
“Yes?” Ghzeth’s voice wavered slightly.
“If they send him, do not harm this Terran. I respect him as I would respect a fellow Araxian. And as a fellow medic.”
“You have my word. Detonation Team Primary out.” Ghzeth pressed a button on his communicator, then nodded gravely at Jim. “That was one of our resistance leaders. He was a medic who left Axanar with the original colonists. I trust his judgement. Your friend will have medical aid soon.”
Jim nodded warily. “I hope so.” In the back of his mind, he was wondering which Federation doctor the guy was talking about. He hoped it wasn’t Bones.
A tight moan from Johan pushed that thought from Jim’s mind. A quick check showed Jim that Johan’s status hadn’t changed much, but that couldn’t last long. “Come on, Plato. Hang in there, buddy. We’ve got someone on the way.”
Off to the side, Ghzeth was speaking in Araxian to the other person in the room. His rifle was still at the ready, and Jim wasn’t about to forget that. There was no way to make a break for it, and Ghzeth was well aware of that. For now, he was at an impasse.
Carefully, gently, ignoring the ache in his own gut, Jim shifted himself around and rested Johan’s head on his lap. The floor was hard, and there was nothing else he could possibly do to give the guy any comfort.
Absently, he thought about the few days he’d spent with the Engineering team. Plato’s easy manner and thoughtful comments. Gadget’s uncanny affinity for all things mechanical, and quirky ability to make any small piece of equipment work like magic. Parker’s bizarre mix of idealism and cynicism. He hoped Hodges and Goldberg had gotten out okay, along with everyone else, but that was beyond his ability to help now. Instead, he had one man he could save, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t do what his own father had failed to do for the Johan family.
Jim rested a hand across Johan’s forehead, flinching slightly at how cold and clammy he felt. They had to get a doctor soon. “It’s okay. I told you... I’m getting you out of here alive.”
Johan groaned again.
“Easy there. Relax. Just keep breathing.” Jim was speaking automatically. Anything to fill the void. He kept glancing between Johan and the Araxians at the other end of the room. Ghzeth was still speaking with the other Araxian, but he never took eyes off Jim and Johan.
In some twisted way, Jim almost felt like Ghzeth was testing him. He couldn’t let that make him nervous. Instead, Jim focused, and let his world narrow to the life of the man he’d promised to protect and the room where he was trapped. “Hang in there, Plato. Just a little bit longer,” he said as he continued to scan the room with his eyes.
“Blues?”
Jim startled and looked down. Johan’s eyes were barely opened, but he was there. “Plato! Talk to me. No, don’t try to move. We’ve got a doctor on the way.”
“What... the hell happened?” Johan’s voice was rough and weak, but he was coherent.
“You decided to play dodge-ball with an energy rifle.”
“Funny.” He blinked a few times. “Where are we?”
Jim couldn’t hold back the frown. “Same building. Upper room. Hodges, Nadeau, and Wilcox made it out.”
“We didn’t.”
Jim shook his head. “But we will. The Araxians captured us, but... they don’t want us dead. And... I actually... I understand why they’re doing this. I don’t think they’re wrong. But anyway, I’ve negotiated for a doctor to come down. We’ll get you fixed up and you’ll be fine.”
For a moment, Johan’s gaze sharpened. “What’s the damage?”
Jim forced a neutral look. “They hit you in the lower back. It’s an ugly burn, but it doesn’t look like anything they can’t fix.”
“How long... have I been out?”
“Not sure. More than a half hour.”
Johan nodded, then flinched. Then cringed harder. “Wish I was... still out.”
“I know... just relax... keep breathing. They’ll have someone here soon.”
Johan grunted in reply. His eyes blinked a few times, breathing too fast and shallow for a minute, and then his body went slack again.
Trying not to panic, Jim pressed his fingers against Johan’s neck to check for a pulse. It was still there, but in his unprofessional perception, it felt much too fast and weak. Jim wasn’t sure what else he could do, but then Ghzeth abruptly walked up to them.
“Stand.”
Carefully, apologizing to Johan for jostling him, Jim slid out from underneath the man’s head and stood in front of Ghzeth.
“Terran,” Ghzeth said formally, “the Control Team has contacted your ship, and they have agreed to send one of your medics... doctors... if we prove to them that the information we have provided them is true, and that you are still alive. Convince them that we will not fire if they transport your doctor to the designated location, but do not reveal anything else. This will be beneficial to both of us.”
Jim’s heart was in his throat as he the Araxian slowly handed him the communicator. He wasn’t being given the chance to contact the Athena out of the goodness of this guy’s heart. No, it was because the Ghzeth had calculated that it would be to his advantage to let this happen. Jim had to remember that. As polite as their captors had been, they were absolutely dedicated to their cause, and nothing would come between them and their goal of regaining their freedom.
Jim could understand that. He really could. He could almost sympathize, but right now, he had his own bigger concern. He had been placed as the leader of a unit, however small, however unexpected, and his absolute duty was to get everyone out alive. Swallowing to ease the tightness in his throat, Jim held the communicator up to his mouth and spoke.
“This is Cadet...” For a split second, he hesitated. Ghzeth was a historian, and could possibly recognize his name. He wondered briefly if it would cause him even bigger problems if he revealed it, but then he realized that he couldn’t hide from his name, or from himself. Squaring his shoulders, he spoke clearly into the communicator.
“This is Cadet James Kirk.”
*********
To Chapter 16