Fic: "The Needs of the Few" (18/23)

[mijan]

Title: "The Needs of the Few"
Canon characters/Pairing(s): Kirk & McCoy, Pike, Finney
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 9,227
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: I've been a bit busy working on other small fics for my ficathon. I estimate that I have two weeks to finish raising the money. However, I haven't forgotten about this story, and I'll finish it soon. Here's a nice, long chapter for you. Enjoy!

Previous chapters: One, Two, Three, Four(A), Four(B), Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen

Chapter 18


The building shook again with the force of a smaller explosion, and then another, and Leonard pressed his back against the wall as he struggled to keep the horror he felt from showing on his face. It was getting harder and harder to keep it together as everything around him slowly fell apart.

He’d done what he had come down here to do: save the crewman. With a scrap of luck, Johan had arrived in sickbay alive, and the medical team up there would be able to fix the damage. Down here, buildings were exploding, the Federation was helping to fight a war they didn’t understand, and Jim - goddammit, Jim - was injured (probably far worse than he was letting on) and wouldn’t even let Leonard scan him.

The kid looked too damned pale, even under the smears of dirt and soot, and Leonard hated himself for not noticing right away. On the black undershirt, the blood had been hard enough to see in the first place, and it had been too easy to dismiss it all as Liu’s. Now that Leonard had taken a better look, the shirt was bunched oddly in one spot, probably from Jim’s homemade bandage. Jim was moving awkwardly and guarding his abdomen. Dammit, he should have seen it!

Sure, there had been plenty of other things to distract him, including a dying man and the small matter of a city-wide battle, but Jim should have said something. He should at least allow Leonard to fix it. Jim’s behavior made no sense, but Leonard had come to understand that Jim Kirk did some stupid, self-sacrificing, reckless, hot-headed shit. Hell, sometimes he even had a reason for it. That didn’t mean Leonard had to like it.

He also didn’t like the fact that Jim seemed to know something about the building they were in that even Captain Porter didn’t know. Leonard swallowed past the lump in his throat and asked, “Jim, how is this building a trump card?”

Jim gave him a bleak look. “I didn’t want to tell you, Bones. I was hoping it wouldn’t matter.”

“We’re stuck in the middle of a goddamned battle, and you just hoped it wouldn’t matter? For the love of bourbon, kid, just tell me!”

Jim shook his head, not to say no, but more of a gesture of surrender. “It’s a bomb, Bones. The whole building. The dilithium. These Araxians... they’re not here to guard the building. They’ve rigged the whole stockpile to explode. This is the Detonation Team.”

“What?” Leonard blinked, shocked that he hadn’t realized this sooner. It seemed obvious now. So damned obvious. Dilithium was one of the most powerful compounds in the galaxy, stable until triggered, but then violently explosive. How had he not have realized it? How had Captain Porter not put it together?

Then he remembered the look that the Axanar in the briefing room had given Captain Porter, and a sick wave of bile rose in his throat. They were being played. He looked over at Ghzeth, who was nodding slowly.

“I deeply apologize, McCoy, that you have been brought into this situation. We still hope that we will not have to use this option,” he said simply, as if he hadn’t just said that he was going to blow up a building with all of them, including himself, inside. Leonard didn’t know enough about the physics to make more than a laughable estimate, but he’d guess there was enough dilithium to make a sizable dent in the city.

Hell, it might take out most of the city.

And all those people.

As if enough people hadn’t already died today.

“You hope you don’t need to use the option, huh?” Bones gave him a sour look. “Well, at least we agree on that much.”

“I believe,” Ghzeth said, with thinning patience, “that I have made our intentions clear to you.” It seemed as though he meant to continue speaking, but a tone sounded over the communication equipment, and he hurried over and quickly became engrossed in a conversation in rapid Araxian.

Leonard was at a loss. He’d come down here of his own free will, but this seemed like more than he’d bargained for. Sure, he knew that volunteering to be a hostage meant he’d given up anything remotely resembling bargaining, but this? This was unbelievable.

“Bones?” The question was hesitant, tentative, and just a bit worried.

Leonard had no patience for that shit at the moment. “What?” He flicked his eyes towards Jim just long enough to see the kid flinch at his harsh tone.

“Come on, Bones... don’t do this.”

“Do what?” he snapped, even though he knew exactly what Jim meant.

“Don’t... make this any harder than it needs to be!” Jim growled in frustration.

“You should have told me.”

Jim blew out a tight breath. “Yeah, well, I tried to tell you not to stay. If I’d told you what they were actually doing with this building, they wouldn’t have let you leave at all, so it would have been pointless.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Then why the hell didn’t you listen? I told you not to stay!” It was the first time Jim had sounded desperate since he’d arrived. It was disconcerting.

“How the hell could I?” In a heartbeat, a thick knot tightened in his throat, and the echoes of a conversation he’d had a few weeks ago came back to the forefront of his mind. He cleared his throat. “Jim... I told you... that I’d messed up with my daughter because I’d taken her for granted. What I didn’t tell you... when I was avoiding you... is that I was afraid I was going to take you for granted. I was afraid that I’d walk away when you needed me.”

Jim’s mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me? Bones, that’s not what... no! You don’t need to prove anything to me. You’ve always been there when I needed you, and I know you’d never walk away from me or anyone who needed you, but this is... this is crazy! You had a choice here!”

Leonard took a deep breath. “Exactly, Jim. Even if I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, it was still my choice. I wasn’t about to walk out of here without you.” He risked another glance at Jim.

Jim’s eyes went wide and his mouth fell open, and for a couple of seconds, he stared at Leonard as if he’d never really seen him before. “Bones... you’re a better friend than I deserve.” Then, his expression closed up. “That still doesn’t make it easier.”

“Maybe not, but we’re here now. So we’ll get out of here together,” Leonard said, trying to sound hopeful. “Come on, kid... aren’t you the one who keeps telling me about no win scenarios and something about writing your own rules?”

Jim held his breath, then sagged slightly against the wall, flinching as he did so. “The rules are just guidelines, Bones... but that doesn’t mean I get to rewrite them.”

“But you’re the one who finds the loophole, right?”

Jim didn’t even look at him. “Yeah. I guess I am.” His voice sounded too flat.

Leonard wanted to ask him what the hell that was supposed to mean, but a heavy thud caught his attention. Ghzeth had slammed his hand down on the table in front of him and was shaking his head in apparent dismay. His expression was grim. Before Leonard could ask what the sudden interruption had been, Jim spoke.

“I take it Captain Porter wasn’t impressed with the latest round of fireworks.”

Ghzeth got up and walked towards them. “No, I’m afraid not. The Axanar representatives have thoroughly convinced the Federation that we are a small fringe group. They will not accept negotiations with us.”

“All you’re asking them to do is to talk.” Jim was glowering furiously. “How can anyone think they know enough of the story to take sides when they’re only listening to one side? I don’t understand how a Federation captain wouldn’t be able to see what’s right in front of his face.”

“Because officers are politicians,” Leonard grumbled cynically. “They only see what they want to see.”

Jim’s glower became more of a frown. “Some of them, maybe, but... not like this, Bones. I mean... you said you’ve been in meetings with them about Brex, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Captain Porter has a mountain of suspicious evidence, and you said he’s never even made an indication that he’s been interested in investigating?”

Leonard grunted. “Not that I’ve seen.”

Jim’s jaw clenched. “That isn’t normal.”

“None of this is normal,” Leonard mumbled under his breath.

Jim shook his head. “A Starfleet captain is supposed to be observant. He should investigate everything... account for all possibilities. Porter isn’t, and that makes no sense. There’s got to be something here that I’m not seeing.”

“Well, if you’re not seeing it, Porter sure isn’t either,” Leonard said, not hiding his annoyance.

Ghzeth looked back and forth between them. “Is your captain typically an observant man?”

Leonard looked up at him and offered a helpless shrug. “How would I know? I started this assignment a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve only met the captain a couple of times. He seems like a man who is really determined not to see anything that contradicts the ideas he’s got stuck in his head already. And that just seems to be par for the course with - what?”

Jim was frowning at him. Deeply. “When I applied for the Athena, I looked up the records of the senior staff. Captain Porter’s record shows that he’s open-minded and creative. I’ve only met him once, during our first week onboard. Before we got to Axanar. He seemed to fit his profile.”

Leonard stared at Jim. “Are you saying that Captain Porter has changed between the start of this mission and now?”

Jim blew out a tight breath. “I don’t know what I’m saying anymore, Bones. Fuck, I don’t know.”

“Very curious,” Ghzeth suddenly said. “I must continue to monitor communications.” With that, he turned back to his equipment.

Leonard watched him for a moment, then looked at Jim again. The kid was staring intently at the floor. If the deep furrows between his eyebrows were a clue, he seemed to be trying to wrap his head around the whole situation. Leonard hoped Jim would succeed, because he didn’t have a clue what to make of this mess.

He and Jim were trapped on the surface of an alien planet, in the middle of a battle, inside a bomb. There was a political standoff, and the people who could stop this whole mess didn’t seem interested in even listening to all the facts. If they didn’t listen, a lot of people were going to die.

Leonard knew he should be terrified for himself, but at the moment, all he could think about were the facts that Jim was in danger, and that his little girl was hundreds of light years away, waiting for her daddy. He felt angry about the former, and guilty about the latter. It took something like this to feel the sort of desperation to see his daughter that he should have felt all along. What sort of person did that make him? He’d never gotten a chance to at least come to a truce with Jocelyn, and now that he was here, with time to think... he wished he had. He never wanted to get back together with her, but he needed to make peace with the past and move on for the sake of Joanna. He couldn’t do any of that if he got vaporized in a massive explosion.

Leonard clenched his hands and tried to think about something else. He wondered if Starfleet was sending backup ships. He wondered if negotiation experts were already involved. He wondered how badly Jim was injured.

Mostly, he wondered how much time they had before something happened. It was only a matter of time before the conflict would be resolved, or the building would be raided and there would be a massive crater where the building had once been.

At least it will be quick, he thought. If you’re going to knife someone, go for the carotid artery. Yet his thoughts drifted back to his only real worries at the moment: Joanna and Jim. And of the two of them, Jim is the one who’s here. He’s the only one I can help.

Leonard looked to the side and saw Jim giving him a searching look, still too pale, and sitting awkwardly in the manner of a person hiding a significant amount of pain. He pondered the kid for a moment, then blew out an exasperated breath. “Jim, I know you said to leave it alone, but could you please let me take a look at whatever damage you did to yourself? You ain’t lookin’ too good there.”

“I always look good,” Jim said, but the joke lacked any of his usual energy.

“Jim -”

But Jim cut him off, speaking in an undertone. “I know what you’re going to say, Bones. And I can’t. If something happens, I need to stay strong. I need to be ready to move. I don’t want to know the damage, because then I’ll let it slow me down.”

Leonard narrowed his eyes at Jim. “Okay, kid, I understand that you have your reasons, but what if the damage is bad enough that you can’t move when you need to? What if it’s something that I can fix? Have you considered the fact that sometimes, asking for help can make you stronger? Or that playing the hero and not asking for help can get you killed?”

Jim’s expression wavered for a moment, and Leonard knew he’d found a chip in the kid’s shields.

“If you’re incapacitated, you can’t help other people, either,” Leonard said gently. Jim’s eyes widened at that, and Leonard knew he had him. “Jim... let me see what you did to yourself.”

Jim blinked, then glanced up at Zhareth, who was looking at them curiously from across the room. Finally, he looked back at Bones and nodded. “Okay. Just... don’t let them know if it’s bad. Okay?”

The concession felt like a rush of relief, and Leonard nodded, “Okay. If I can, I will.” Then he cut a sideways glance at Zhareth. “Mind if I get something out of the medical kit I brought with me? I think Jim got himself a bit banged up while your buddies were taking pot-shots at him, and I’d like to check him over.”

Zhareth cocked his head, then shrugged. “I know there are no weapons in your bag. I don’t see a problem with you checking your friend.” He gestured towards the medical bag on the floor with his rifle.

Leonard grabbed the bag and quickly pulled out a tricorder and his basic kit. His first instinct was to peel back Jim’s shirt and look directly, but if Jim wanted to hide stuff from their captors, he’d leave that alone as long as possible. However, that possibility flew out the window as soon as he started scanning. “Shit, Jim, this is... you’ve got a -”

“I don’t want to know, Bones.”

“You need to know. It’s not just a cut. You’ve got a goddamned piece of shrapnel in there!”

Zhareth had stepped closer to them.”McCoy... is he injured? He told us he was not damaged.”

Leonard scowled. “If this guy had a limb hacked off, he’d say it’s only a damned flesh wound so he could keep fighting.”

At that, Jim actually snickered. “Monty Python, Bones? I knew I was rubbing off on you.”

“Shut up, Jim. I can’t just leave this alone. The shrapnel needs to come out before it nicks an artery. You’ve already got enough damage - this needs surgery. Listen, I’ve got the tools in my kit for something like this. It would take twenty minutes, maybe a half-hour to stabilize it enough until we can get you back to the ship and finish the repair.” He started reaching for his bag.” I have to sedate you, but -”

Jim’s hand snaked out and caught his wrist. “Wait! Stop, Bones.”

“I’m not going to stop, Jim!” Leonard hissed. “You’ve got an internal injury that’s already bad enough, but it could go critical at any time if it shifts around in there.”

Jim’s eyes were pleading. “Bones, you can’t sedate me. Not here. Not now. What if the situation goes critical? I can’t take the chance that I’d be lying here unconscious while... while the everything falls apart and these people blow up half of the city.”

“I understand that, kid, but what if it kills you?”

Jim stared at him, jaw set firmly. “Is it stable enough for now?”

Leonard looked back at his tricorder. There was some internal bleeding, and it had definitely nicked his gut, but based on the readings, Jim wasn’t in danger yet. As long as nothing changed, he’d be okay for at least a couple of hours... but that was a huge gamble. With a growl, Leonard let his shoulders slump. “If nothing changes, it will hold for another few hours without irreversible damage. But I can’t promise that it will stay that way, and it is bleeding in there, and I need to fix it before -”

“I won’t let you knock me out.”

“I can’t fix this with you awake,” Leonard hissed.

“Then don’t.” Jim looked up at Zhareth, then over at Ghzeth, then back at Leonard. “Stabilize it as much as you can. Give me a painkiller or whatever else, but I will not let you sedate me.”

Despite the pallor and obvious pain, Jim seemed completely resolute. Sure, Leonard could tell him he was just using a painkiller and just knock him out without permission, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t betray Jim’s trust like that. Besides, if it was him, he wouldn’t want to be unconscious in the middle of a crisis like this either. He couldn’t do that to Jim.

“Okay,” he said, nodding uneasily. “Just remember... this goes against my professional judgement as a doctor.”

Jim tossed him a sarcastic salute.

Leonard shot a scowl at him before digging into his kit. Hypospray. Analgesic. Broad-spectrum antibiotic. A stabilizer, disinfection unit, and basic cleansing wipes. When he turned back, snapped the analgesic into the hypospray and deftly pressed it against Jim’s arm. “I’m giving you an antibiotic and a painkiller.”

“Okay.” Then Jim frowned at him. “Hey, I thought you always aimed for the neck with those things.”

“Only for stuff that needs more rapid delivery.” He allowed himself a smirk. “Or when you’ve pissed me off.”

“How thoughtful - ow!” He slapped at his neck and rubbed the spot where Leonard had just delivered the antibiotic.

Leonard gave him a raised eyebrow to shut him up, then pulled up Jim’s shirt to expose the damage. “Hold still.” He removed Jim’s makeshift field dressing, noting that it was actually fairly well-bandaged, considering the circumstances, and he quickly began dabbing at the dried blood around the wound. There was no way to know how much of the blood was Liu’s, but Leonard guessed that more of it was Jim’s than the kid realized.

In the meantime, Zhareth had taken another step closer. “Are you certain that he is not seriously wounded?”

“It’s not bad,” Jim protested weakly, and Leonard scowled at him before answering Zhareth.

“It’s not good either.” He cast a glance up at Zhareth. “You folks and your explosives are what caused it, so I don’t see why you’re so worried. Especially if you’re planning on blowing up the whole place.”

“We do not want to harm anyone,” Zhareth said, regret and sorrow heavy in his words.

“Yeah, well, we don’t always get what we want, do we?” He sighed. “Jim will be just fine, as long as your buddies don’t blow up anything else.” At least, Leonard hoped Jim would be just fine. Really, they needed to get out of there, and Jim needed real medical treatment. For now, the best he could do was to keep the injury stable, and hope that someone calling the shots decided that talking was better than fighting.

He didn’t make eye contact with Jim as he finished cleaning the wound. He ran the sterilizer, pressed a sealant bandage over it, and attached and activated a small stabilizer unit.

“Good enough, Bones?” Jim asked, and Leonard finally looked up to see a painful mix of uncertainty and vulnerability in Jim’s expression.

“It’ll do... you crazy space cowboy. Just don’t mess with it too much.” Feeling excessively tired, Leonard put away his med-kit, and settled himself back down against the wall. This time, he sat closer to Jim - not quite shoulder-to-shoulder, but almost touching. He visually checked Jim and saw that some of the color was returning to his face, and his posture wasn’t quite so tense from discomfort, so at least it was something.

Still, the kid looked like he was already beginning to mentally retreat into himself. His face was screwed up in a look of intense concentration - the same sort of look he got when he was considering a particularly tricky chess game. Leonard couldn’t begin to guess the specifics of what he was thinking, but knowing Jim, it probably involved a way for them to get out of there. What else could he be thinking?

Other than Ghzeth still speaking in Araxian, and the tinny buzz of voices over the comm system, the room was perversely calm. There was a faint scent of smoke in the air, but it was barely noticeable. Occasionally, Leonard could hear the distant wail of a siren, or the muffled rumble of an explosion. Somehow, he didn’t think negotiations were going well.

A slightly closer rumble caused him to exchange a nervous glance with Jim, but they said nothing. What was there to say? They already knew they were up to their necks in trouble.

After several long minutes, Ghzeth seemed to finish his conversation. He toggled a switch and took a tired-looking step backwards from his commo equipment.

Without preamble, Jim spoke up. “It’s not going well, is it?”

“No,” Ghzeth said sadly. “We offered to release one of you in exchange for talks, but the Axanar will not negotiate.”

“You know the Federation would probably listen if you disarm,” Leonard said, not really sure if they would or not, but Jim was already shaking his head.

“It wouldn’t work. This will be classified as a domestic dispute, Bones. That’s part of the problem. It’s not a matter of the Federation listening. It’s about convincing the Axanar to listen. The rebels will be subject to the local laws. All Starfleet can do is to offer support to the Axanar leaders if they’re asked. Unless something were to cause Starfleet to recognize these people as the real authority on this planet, no... Starfleet won’t listen.”

Ghzeth was nodding slowly. “It is as I expected it would be... if it went this far. I had hoped that the Axanar would listen. That they would turn coward and relinquish their hold on the city before matters became so dire.”

He fell silent and turned back to his equipment. In the distance, sirens wailed. Leonard could practically feel the tension pulling at his own skin, but he didn’t know what to say. It felt as though they were all at an impasse, but then Jim spoke again.

“Ghzeth? I have a question for you.”

The Araxian glanced quickly, then turned his whole body to face them. “Ask, and I shall answer if I can.”

“You said that you warned your people away from the target areas. That you tried to keep them away from the violence. If your people took shelter, or made it just outside the city, they’d be safe from the small explosions, and most of the fighting within the city.”

“Correct,” Ghzeth said with noticeable hesitation.

“But... if negotiations fail, and you detonate the dilithium... the blast is going to flatten the city, and a pretty large area around it. I know you evacuated as many as you could, but there’s no way you could have really evacuated such a large area. Not completely. So... if you detonate... how many will die?”

For a moment, Ghzeth squeezed his eyes shut, and his head fell forward. Then, as though struggling under an unseen weight, he looked up again. “The precise number is unknown, but we estimate sixty thousand.”

The shock Leonard felt at the answer was overwhelming. “Wait a minute! How big is this goddamned bomb?”

Jim gave him a bleak look, and his pallor from a moment ago had turned a sick shade of green. “It’s not a normal bomb. It’s dilithium. There’s so much energy wrapped up in the molecular structure of the crystal... it’s incredibly stable until you trigger it, and then, it’s a chain reaction. The energy release is enormous.”

Leonard knew it was a high-energy substance with a unique molecular structure, but he’d never paid much attention to anything that wasn’t alive and sentient, so he had no idea how much of the stuff it would take to blow up... well... anything. “So... how much dilithium is there?”

Jim’s expression was so apologetic, it was almost painful to see. “Did you see those crates in the storage room below?”

Leonard felt his eyebrows go up. “That’s all dilithium?”

“Yeah,” Jim said in defeat. “And... sixty-thousand people. That’s....” His eyes widened in horror and his voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s half of the population,” he whispered.

“It is,” Ghzeth said sadly.

“You’d sacrifice half of your population...” Jim said vaguely, staring up at the Araxian.

“To save the rest. To ultimately save us all.” He turned and looked up at the window, then across the room at their equipment. “Pardon me, but I must contact the Control Team.”

Ghzeth walked away and began speaking in Araxian into his communications equipment. Zhareth kept a watchful eye on them, but he didn’t seem to be intruding into their space, so Leonard took it as a bit of breathing room. And damn, did he need some breathing room.

He looked at Jim. “You okay in there, kid?”

Jim was staring at the floor in front of him, eyes wide with horror. “What do you think, Bones?” His voice was shaky. “We’re sitting on sixty-thousand lives, including ours. I can’t let that happen.”

As angry as Leonard wanted to be at Jim for being a stubborn bastard, he had to feel for him there. “I know you can’t.” And dammit, neither can I, Leonard thought. He just had no idea what he could possibly do about it.

“Zhareth,” Ghzeth said suddenly. “Please stand guard outside the room. Shut the door. Do not allow any to enter... or exit.”

Leonard could read between the lines loud and clear. Just because these people were being cordial didn’t mean they wouldn’t still shoot if their hostages tried to escape. Or, with the negotiations going so badly, it was possible that they’d decided to execute one of them as a warning... and the Araxian was actually going to apologize first before killing them. The wary look on Jim’s face meant he was thinking the same thing.

Zhareth stepped out of the room, and Ghzeth settled himself heavily against the table with his commo equipment, rifle at the ready against his hip. “How much history and culture have you studied, Terrans?”

“Not much,” Leonard admitted, while Jim said, “A fair bit.”

“Do you know much of your own allies, the Vulcans?”

“What do the Vulcans have to do with this?” Jim asked, sounding confused.

Ghzeth actually gave a faint smile. “Nothing, and everything. One of your own Federation founders. They have a very interesting history. Once a violent, savage race, but now completely dedicated to the principles of logic and emotional restraint. Did it ever give you cause to wonder why the Romulans so vehemently objected to this, enough so that they split themselves from the Vulcans and became their own race?”

“Wait a minute,” Leonard blurted out. “Are you saying your people are like the Romulans?”

Ghzeth laughed - such a striking contrast to his posture as an armed combatant. “In philosophy, not at all. We have merely found ourselves in a historically similar situation. We know little of the Romulans aside from their violent ways and their hostilities towards the Federation, and we Araxians could not be more different. However, we have studied what is known of their cultural split with the Vulcans. We have also studied the Vulcan philosophies. Are you familiar with Vulcan philosophy, Terrans?”

Leonard glanced sideways at Jim, and caught him doing the same thing. Leonard didn’t know anything about it, so he shrugged, and Jim spoke. “I’m familiar with it. I studied the writings of Surak when I was younger.”

“Then you know of the Vulcan adage, ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,’ yes?”

Jim frowned. “Well of course, I...” His eyes widened. “That’s what we’ve been talking about this entire time, isn’t it? Same philosophy, different culture.”

Leonard barely knew the basics of Earth history, and much less about Vulcan history. This conversation was running loops around him. “What do you mean, Jim?”

Jim was shaking his head slowly, eyes still wide and distant. “The needs of the many... Bones, the Araxian and the Axanar have each taken the same philosophy and turned it upside down from each other.”

Yeah, still confused. “I don’t follow you.”

Jim held out his hands in front of himself as if he could frame his thoughts between his own splayed fingers. “The Axanar... they believe that the needs of the many are - I don’t know - somehow served best by subjugating the many to the few. And I... I’m not saying this right.”

“A correction,” Ghzeth said, with the surprisingly gentle tone of a teacher. “They labor under the idea that the many are best served by eliminating the free will of the few. Self-determination, my Terran friends. The freedom to choose your path. You must understand - the Vulcan philosophy only remains ethical as long as free will remains.”

Bones shook his head. “Are you saying the Axanar have no free will?”

Ghzeth looked at Bones sadly. “Do they give you any cause to believe that they do?”

“Well...”

Jim cleared his throat. “Bones... you’ve seen it yourself. They gave me the damned opal window from their Hall of Lords, just because I said I liked it. I really think they’re planning on giving the Federation anything we ask of them to keep the status of Federation Protectorate. They act like they owe their doctors everything.”

Leonard snorted. “It might make it easier to get patients to comply with treatment plans.” Then he sighed. “But I get your point.”

“And,” Ghzeth said softly, “because they believe that we Araxians are still Axanar, they feel that what we have... is theirs to offer as well. That we are to accept their lack of free will, because they refuse to accept that we are no longer Axanar. All because they believe that the needs of their society outweigh our freedom.”

“But... didn’t you say that Araxians also believe that the needs of the few are... well... secondary to the needs of the many?” Jim looked confused, and Leonard had to admit to himself that he was having just a bit of trouble following. The last thing he’d expected, in the middle of a battle, from the person holding him hostage, was a philosophy lesson about freedom.

Something bright and almost wistful lit Ghzeth’s expression, and Leonard was suddenly reminded of Jethan and Rhexen. “Only so far as an individual chooses to make it so. Jim... a single Vulcan would sacrifice himself if logic called for it, but it would still be a choice for him to make. You must remember... the many is composed of the few. Without the freedom of the few, the many have nothing. Life itself becomes meaningless.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Leonard asked, feeling a bit awkward and uneasy.

“Because, Terrans,” Ghzeth said tightly, “I am a historian... and a teacher. It is an essential part of who I am in this world, even at a time like this. I wanted you to understand why we have done this. To understand why a peaceful people would go so far... and why we are willing to sacrifice everything.”

There was something ominous in those last few words, and Leonard felt a shiver work up his spine.

To his side, Jim spoke. “Your revolution is failing, isn’t it?”

The lightness in Ghzeth’s expression was abruptly extinguished, and he spared a dark glance at the window above his head. “It is. Our efforts within the city have all but failed. We are desperately trying to lever negotiations.”

“So this is it?” Leonard spat out, not wanting to hear any of this politely. “You wanted us to understand your philosophy before you paraded us out at gunpoint to make one last attempt at bargaining before you blow us all up?”

Ghzeth seemed shocked. “We... I had discussed this matter with the other teams, but we decided immediately that we could not do that. The destruction of our city and our occupiers was horrific enough... but we could not bring ourselves to execute someone in such a manner.”

Jim gave Ghzeth a long, considerate look. “But you’re not going to release us, are you?”

By the way Ghzeth’s expression fell, it was obvious that Jim had seen exactly what he was thinking. “We do not know yet. I have requested that we might, and our Control team is weighing the situation, and will decide shortly.” His expression became pinched. “I despise entrapping free beings, but we still need you.”

Leonard frowned. “Wait. If you weren’t planning to use us to make demands in exchange for our lives, what the hell was the point of keeping us captive?”

“Bargaining, Bones,” Jim said. “They couldn’t let us leave in the first place because we’d spill the beans on their plan to blow up the building, but they also kept us for bargaining. They didn’t need to kill us to have that leverage.”

Ghzeth nodded sadly. “And also, regrettably, because we are essentially using you as a safeguard against a raid on the building.”

Leonard balked. “Wait, what?”

“The Federation wants you back alive,”Ghzeth continued, “and the Axanar wish to remain in the Federation’s good graces. As long as you are here, they will not raid the building blindly unless they feel they have no choice.”

Leonard glared at him. The damned thing of it was that he already knew that. “Great. So now, we’re a pair of goddamned human shields in the middle of someone else’s civil war. Great. Just fucking peachy.”

“But he’s right.” Jim said softly. “If we leave, there will be nothing to hold the Axanar back.”

Leonard, stared at Jim for a second, then folded his arms across his chest as if he could physically hold himself together and grumbled, “It might not be enough to hold them back anyway, kid.”

Jim frowned. “What are you saying?”

He let out a tight breath. “When I was in the briefing room where they offered me this mission, Captain Porter told me that the Peacekeepers were holding off on raiding the building because of the hostages. They were afraid that the... uh... terrorists would kill you if they raided the building. Porter said they’d hold off as long as the situation was stable, but... what’s Starfleet’s policy on hostages, Jim?”

Jim’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, then he nodded in understanding. “Policy doesn’t allow for the protection of hostages if it creates a risk greater than the lives of those hostages.” Jim recited, then gave a silent, mirthless chuckle. “The needs of the few, Bones. I bet a Vulcan wrote that policy. And the fucked up part of it is... I agree with it.”

Leonard looked at him for several seconds. It was a sobering realization: the knowledge that Jim knew and accepted that his life wasn’t as important as the bigger picture and the other lives that might be lost. Leonard hadn’t been sure if he’d ever see that level of maturity in the kid. Not so much a kid anymore. Finally, he nodded. “So do I, Jim.”

“A noble policy, even if it is unfavorable to our situation at the moment,” Ghzeth said.

“Some situation,” Leonard mused, shaking his head. “How the hell did it go so far?”

“It has gone this far because of a fundamental difference in how our peoples view reality,” Ghzeth said sadly. “The Axanar cannot comprehend how we can possibly live without the structure of their society’s protection. If we survive without them, then it undermines their universal paradigm. It would destroy something of them. And so... they must keep us under the same proverbial chains they bear willingly.”

“Infinite diversity...” Jim said softly, his voice trailing off.

A surge of anger flashed in Leonard. Something instinctive. Infinite Diversity be damned - this was just wrong. “As far as I’m concerned, there are certain absolutes,” he growled, “and one of them is the right of humanoids to a free and unchained environment. The right to self-determine, and to grow.”

Ghzeth’s face lit up. “You do understand.”

Leonard nodded grimly. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Ghzeth’s expression quickly sobered, and he looked between both of them. “Then you understand why we are willing to kill and die to preserve our freedom... our right of self-determination.” He glanced around. “Even to do the unspeakable.”

“Trump card,” Jim said softly.

“Yes.”

Ghzeth returned to his equipment, leaving them to themselves. Then, Leonard heard something he thought he’d never hear out of Jim Kirk.

“It’s over.”

Leonard snapped his gaze sidewise towards Jim. “What?”

Jim was staring straight ahead. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his neck were strained, and there were tight lines of stress around his eyes. “It’s over, Bones. I mean... maybe they’ll let us go. Maybe not. Either way, someone is going to break the standoff. Maybe they’ll do it with words, and maybe they’ll detonate the dilithium. But there is nothing we can say or do that will make any difference right now.” He swallowed tightly, then turned his head to make eye contact with Leonard. Despite the furious tension written on his face, his eyes were desolate, and to Leonard’s dismay, slightly glassy. “It’s the no-win scenario, Bones... and I failed it. It’s over.”

Leonard opened his mouth to reply, but there was nothing he could say to that. Jim must have sensed it, and his gaze dropped back to the floor and he fell silent.

There was still the faint sound of sirens in the distance. The comm traffic in the room seemed like little more than a buzz in the background. The room was silent otherwise, but this time, the ominous tension was stronger. More immediate.

Leonard looked around the room, trying to quell his nerves. The slant of the light from the window was lower now. Afternoon was beginning to stretch out across the city. Leonard imagined that the weather outside was still gorgeous. Just this morning, it had been so peaceful and quiet. Evacuated, his mind supplied. Everything had seemed fine on the surface, even if the problems were boiling just below.

Leonard found himself clinging to the hope that maybe Ghzeth would be able to release them before they detonated the dilithium. They didn’t need to be involved in this fiasco. Private little war, Leonard pondered ruefully. He and Jim could leave, unscathed, and whatever happened... well... it was a big galaxy. Plenty of civilizations, including Earth, had brought themselves to the brink. Was this so different? Each species had to chart its own course through history. Looking back, it was sometimes hard to tell who was wrong and who was right. Leonard wondered if anyone would figure it out this time.

Hell, he just wondered if anyone would be able to sift through the aftermath to figure out what had gone wrong. Would anyone understand why it had all fallen apart? Would people analyze this for years to come and wonder what others had missed? Would Captain Porter live up to his personnel file and actually see what was going on?

Suddenly, he thought of Doctor Brex, back on the Athena.

Something we missed...

“Jim.”

“What, Bones?” Jim’s voice was so distant that it made Leonard cringe.

“I almost forgot - and it might not even be relevant - but Doctor Brex’s telepathy came back.”

Jim’s posture went from slouched defeat to rapt attention in a split second. “It came back? Suddenly?”

Leonard nodded. “In sickbay, before they asked me to come down here.”

“Did he say why? Can you think of anything that happened in conjunction with his telepathy coming back that was... weird? Anything at all?”

There was only one strange thing that had happened at that time, and Leonard was becoming more and more certain that the connection was right there, but he had no idea what the connection could be. “There was the Kazarite Ambassador. Brex started getting this odd headache. Then, the Kazarite was beamed up to the ship. He had severe injuries, and he was mumbling something about being wrong. Sounded like he was blaming himself about something. They sedated him, and it was just about at that moment that Brex said his telepathy was back, and... what?”

Jim was looking at him, first with confusion, then with the wide-eyed horror of comprehension.
“Bones... Kazarites are telepaths. Really, really powerful telepaths. Their ability doesn’t work like most of the other telepathic races we know. They can manipulate thoughts... influence ideas... but...” He frowned sharply. “But they’re peaceful. I mean... absolutely pacifist. They work with animals and they hate politics. How could a Kazarite be involved in something like this?”

Leonard blinked, open-mouthed, trying to figure out what the hell Jim was getting at. “Jim, do you mean -”

But Jim had turned his attention towards their two captors. “Zhareth! You said you heard something about one of the Ambassadors getting involved in this. Was it the Kazarite?”

Zhareth looked over at Ghzeth, and Ghzeth answered for them. “It was. Zhareth witnessed him exiting the Prime Minister’s personal chambers many times with only the Axanar ambassador accompanying him.”

“Wait a minute,” Leonard cut in. “Are you telling me that this guy was somehow messed up in all of this? And now he’s back on the Athena... well, he’s unconscious with severe injuries.”

“We’ve got no proof, Bones, but it fits. Brex’s telepathy came back when the Kazarite was sedated.” Jim’s eyes were glinting sharply, the way they did when he got into that headspace of his where he just saw everything. “Bones... he must have come aboard at Axanar. That’s where we picked up all of the other ambassadors for this mission, and that’s when the trouble started. And... Bones! I saw him in Parliament Square when T’Val lost consciousness!”

Ghzeth leaned closer, his forehead wrinkled in skeptical curiosity. “Tell me more, Terrans.”

Jim didn't even look at Ghzeth. “Bones, do you know anything else about the Kazarite? Did Brex say anything?”

“Well... Brex said he thinks he was supposed to forget about the Kazarite,” Leonard said flatly. “He couldn’t find out more because they’d sedated the guy, but... Jim, what the hell is going through that thick skull of yours?”

”It's a hunch. I mean... it doesn't make sense, but it's the only thing we've got. He's the only one who could have done this stuff. Those communiques that went missing... the attacks on Brex and T'Val... altering people's memories... all of it, Bones,” Jim said, with a tone of disbelief. “How could I have missed this?”

“Missed what? Dammit, man, are you saying this crazy alien could be responsible for this whole mess?”

“I...” He looked back and forth between Ghzeth and Leonard, then gave one decisive nod. “I can't be sure, but... it's the best I've got, Bones.”

Leonard gave Jim a searching look. He had no idea how Jim had pieced this together - the kid was a damned walking encyclopedia - but he knew he trusted the kid. “You think you're right, Jim?”

Jim's eyes were shining with a strange mix of desperation and sincerity. “I do.”

“Then that's good enough for me, kid.” Leonard tried to give him a reassuring smile, but then frowned. “So what good does this information do for us?”

Jim gave him a sideways look, then fixed Ghzeth with a firm stare. “If I'm right, the Kazarite has all the information. He could set the record straight, and tell the captain what really happened. Hell, if I'm right, there’s a chance he's even been manipulating the captain. We can convince the people on our ship to wake up the Kazarite and get him to talk.”

“Jim, he's out cold. Severely injured and in surgery, or sedated in recovery.”

“It's our only chance, Bones!”

After a moment of tense silence, Jim spoke again. “If I’m wrong, we lose nothing. If I’m right... we need to get the message through.” He looked squarely at Ghzeth. “I know the Control Team probably won’t want me to do this, but... let me try to talk to my ship. Let me try to get them to question the Kazarite. If you’re running out of options, then it can’t hurt to try, right?”

Ghzeth frowned. “Do you think they would listen?”

“They have to, Ghzeth! I mean, we have to try. This is it! This is what we were missing. This is our chance! You said you wanted to stop the bloodshed. So... what do you say?” Jim was breathing hard, and despite his pallor, his eyes were bright with adrenaline.

Ghzeth considered him for a moment, and then nodded. “Okay, Jim,” he said. “You are right. We must try. Allow me to contact the Control Team. Our options are running out, and I believe they will allow it.”

Leonard watched as Ghzeth went back to the commo equipment and flipped a switch. “Detonation Team to Control Team.” For a moment, there was silence. Ghzeth cast a nervous glance back over his shoulder at Leonard and Jim, then toggled the switch again. “Ghzeth to Control Team? Negotiations Team? Detonation Team to all teams -- is this message being received?”

The hope Leonard had felt a moment ago was quickly fading, replaced by nerves. “What’s going on?”

“Our communications appear to be dead,” Ghzeth replied, and for the first time, Leonard thought he heard real fear in the Araxian’s voice. “If our communications have been disrupted, it means that someone has physically severed the conduits or destroyed our relay equipment.”

Jim was nodding, his expression tight. “And if that equipment was sabotaged, then that means -”

“That they’re coming,” Leonard blurted out.

Ghzeth nodded. He looked defeated. “I believe so. And if this is true... we are at the mercy of the efforts of the Negotiations Team. There is no way for us to communicate out. We cannot tell them about the Kazarite. And there is no way for us to know how long it will be until the Axanar come here. And when they do...”

“You’ll have to detonate the dilithium,” Jim finished. His expression was hardened - angry and desolate at once.

“Yes.” Ghzeth’s expression was pained and remorseful. “I wish for you to go back to your ship, Terrans. Without communications, it is my decision. We may still have time to get you away from this building so that you may transport safely. Please... I shall make arrangements.” Without hesitation, he went to the door of the room and opened it, holding a quiet but strained conversation with Zhareth in Araxian.

Leonard’s nerves had gone from edgy to frantic. Not that he’d had any sense of control before, but until now, he’d at least given himself the illusion that there was some sense of structure to things. Now, they were cut off from everything. No eyes, no ears. For all he knew, the Axanar’s forces were going to storm the building any moment, and then... it would be over. He knew the Araxians wouldn’t let themselves be taken, and although he still didn’t want to believe that violence was a solution for anything, he knew why they were doing it. He knew they wouldn’t hesitate.

Swallowing against the dryness in his throat, he turned to the side and looked at Jim.

Jim’s profile was a study in hard angles and harder emotions. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth drawn into a harsh scowl, and the muscles in his neck were tight and tense. In his lap, his hands were balled into tight fists. In contrast to the intensity in his expression, there was a sheen of sweat on his brow, his breathing was still too shallow, and his color was off. Analgesics and stabilizers could only do so much.

“Jim?”

A muscle near Jim’s eye twitched.

“Hey, Jim... talk to me. Is the pain getting worse?”

After a moment, Jim finally spoke. “I can’t let this happen.” His voice was a low, angry growl.

“I... I don’t think there’s a lot we can do about it, kid.” Leonard considered putting a hand on Jim’s shoulder, but held back. He shook his head. “We’ve got no say in what happens.”

“We always have a say. We always have a choice. To sit back and accept things, or to fight.” He was still staring at the floor in front of him, not moving except for the subtle strain of muscles in his neck. “You wanted me to change the rules. Well... I don’t know if I can do that... but that doesn’t mean there aren’t moves we haven’t considered yet.”

“What’s left to consider, Jim? We’ve got nothing. It’s up to them if they choose to keep us or let us go, and they’re letting us go. It’s up to the Axanar and Starfleet whether or not these folks will have their say. And these people have already made up their minds that life isn’t worth living if they can’t live their way.”

“I agree with them, Bones,” came the quiet reply.

Leonard tensed, wondering if he was reading too much into that, and hoping he was. “So do I,” he said cautiously. “But that doesn’t mean we can change anything. Not from here. Besides, this isn’t our fight.”

“Bones, we're here. That makes it our fight.”

“Does that mean it's always your fight, Jim? If you're there, you fight?”

Something in Jim's expression darkened, but he still didn't look up at Leonard. “Yes. At least, I did... until today. Until this mess. I always stuck my neck out in training, or when things went wrong before, and it worked, Bones. Not always, and not perfectly, but it did. But this time, I sat back and let things happen because I was supposed to. I didn't push my observations. I didn't react to my hunches. I held you back from investigating. And then, when it all blew up in my face, I played the cadet and obeyed orders even when I knew they were wrong. And because of that, Finney died, Johan almost died, and you... you're here.”

“Jim, I'm here because --”

“Don't say it, Bones.” Jim glanced up, but only for a second. “You're here because our team was here, and I could have prevented this, but I didn't.”

“Now wait just a minute - you have no way of knowing that!”

“You're right.” Jim's shoulders shook with a mirthless laugh. “Because I didn't even fucking try. But I'm not going to make that mistake again.” He finally turned his head and looked Leonard in the eye. His gaze was hardened and steady, and it looked as though he’d finally solved the mental puzzle he’d been struggling with earlier. It was a look of cold clarity that Leonard had never seen on him. “There are sixty-thousand lives on the line right now, including yours. Every one of those people is someone’s kid. And you’ve got your own kid at home who needs you.”

Leonard really, really didn’t like where this was going. “Jim, what the hell are you talking about?”

A faint smile curved Jim’s lips. “I’m talking about making a choice, Bones.” He shook his head, not losing the intensity of his expression, but his smile took on a hint of irony. “I told you... I learned all about what my father did aboard the Kelvin. I read it, I studied it, but I never understood it. Until now.”

“Understood what?” Leonard asked vaguely, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

“That he put himself last.” His smile faltered. “For years, I told myself that he put himself first. I told myself that he played the hero, he fucked up, he left us behind... but that wasn’t it at all. I needed to understand why he did it. And I do, Bones. I get it now.”

“What?” Leonard said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jim’s eyes were clear. “That heroes don’t make a choice. They just accept that there’s only one choice they can live with.”

“Jim?”

“The needs of the few, Bones.”

Leonard tried to make himself breathe. “What are you going to do?”

Jim’s expression hardened, and his eyes were glinting like the razor edge of a blade, sharp and cutting. “I’m going to make a choice. The only choice I’ve got.” He reached out and patted Leonard lightly on the arm, then looked up.

Ghzeth had finished his conversation and was walking back towards them. “We are ready to escort you from the building to a location where you may transport to your ship. We can not guarantee your safety, Terrans, but it may be your only chance. You are free to go. There is no need to keep you here for this.”

Jim swallowed tightly, Adam’s apple bobbing, but that was the only sign Leonard could see that he was nervous. His gaze was steady. “Yeah, there is. I have an idea.”

*********

To Chapter 19