FIC: Heroes and Villains - Part Three
Title: Heroes and Villains - Part Three
Pairings: Reboot! Kirk/Spock, Scotty/Uhura, Kirk/Other
Rating: R - for bad manners, inappropriate touching, and gun-totin' shenanigans
Summary: The Enterprise is getting ready for their Valentine's Day celebrations, when they are ordered to investigate Sigma Iotia II for possible cultural contamination. When they get there however, Kirk and company discover way more "culture" than they had bargained for.
Note: Not like I'm your mama or anything, but there are hyperlinks in this part, and you might wanna click them; due to some song lyrics. I did not do this to express the deep, innermost yearnings of my fangirl heart; but rather because it's part of the plot. (I promise!) If the lyrics don't sound familiar, you might want to click the links. They're all to YouTube, and should be okay. ♥
Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Author Notes
Uhura stood next to McCoy, and watched through the observation window the scene taking place - which was similar to about an hour before, and an hour before that.
Scotty still sat backwards on his chair, while Okmyx screamed, and went ballistic.
“Get me outta here - GET ME OUTTA HERE!”
McCoy looked down at a PADD, as he bit the end of his stylus. “The man’s either a weird genius, or a damn fool.”
Uhura quirked her lip. “Can’t it be both?”
McCoy looked over at her, rueful. “Okmyx’s levels are reaching a breaking point. I’ll reserve ‘genius’ ‘til I see some action.”
Uhura looked pointedly. McCoy rolled his eyes.
It had, of course, only been 20 minutes ago that things had been a bit more peaceful. Okmyx, thoroughly exhausted, had stretched himself across the back bench; perhaps to get some rest, perhaps to watch the ceiling for a change in scenery. So maybe it had been a bit of a shock when a small, reptilian figure had crept closer and closer; until the tip of his head was only a dozen centimeters above Okmyx’s chest - staring with black, beady eyes like some searchlight.
That’s when Okmyx had started the yelling, and banging the observation window.
“You damn ghouls, that’s what you are - razzin’ me up for no purpose! What the hell do you want from me?”
At this, Scotty had reached into a lunch sack, and pulled out another sandwich.
Keenser had made a disapproving quibbling noise, as he had jumped on a bench to get a clearer looked at the proceedings.
Which turned out to be an auspicious position, for now:
“This man - THIS MAN IS DRIVING ME NUTSO! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED? Huh? You got it, you ugly sonuva - “
Uhura recoiled from the glass, and looked at McCoy in alarm. “Leonard, we need to let this guy rest.”
McCoy grunted an agreement, and was about to call the guard, when:
Okmyx kneeled in front of Scotty’s chair, begging his attention.
“Them heaters - you want them heaters? They’re in my desk drawer, nestled with a thousand clams. Just - just gimme back to my office, huh? I need to get to my daughter, she’s going out with this fella - “
Uhura leaned forward, her fingertips touching the glass; as she watched Scotty turn his head.
The Scotsman seemed to think a moment, then, “Ye’ll cooperate with us?”
Okmyx looked ready to weep with joy. “Yes - yes! Anything ya want! Just get me back down to my daughter.”
Scotty nodded, and then graced the man with a big grin. “That’s all I wanted, my good man! Here,” Scotty reached behind him, and opened his sack. “Sandwich?”
Okmyx blanched, as haggis spilled out the wrapper. Uhura choked back a relieved laugh.
McCoy harrumphed. “I guess that settles it, then.”
Keenser’s eyes followed the exchange of sandwiches with a nod of approval.
***
The black hood was lifted from Kirk’s face; and Kirk squinted his eyes, trying to adjust to the dimmed room. The walls were blood red with mood lighting, and dark lounging lined the interior. Cushions were abundant, and Kirk could now see they were another shade of maroon, or perhaps black. Either way, that wasn’t what caught his focus.
The Klingon stood in front of him, with the hood in his left hand, and a raised hand near Kirk’s jaw-line; sporting dangerously-long fingernails.
The Klingon breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring. His grin was wicked.
“The Federation promotes their pretty ones.” A nail skimmed the side of Kirk’s face, and Kirk hissed.
“Who the hell are you? This is Federation territory.”
“Funny, your Iotians don’t seem to think so.” His dark eyes possessed Kirk’s profile; the irises following the line from eyes, to nose, to lips. “I am Kor.”
Kirk narrowed his eyes. “Why are you hiding, Kor?”
Kor shook his head. “Your technology fails you.”
“Bullshit. You’re hiding somewhere on or near the planet, otherwise we would’ve seen you.”
“It is of no consequence - this planet is mine, now. I can go wherever I wish.”
Kirk bit a laugh. “Big words. Got action to back that up?”
Kor showed his teeth, as the fingernails grazed Kirk’s jaw, and tipped the human’s head to the side. “Good, honest hatred… Very refreshing.”
Kirk threw his head back. “You’ll see a lot more of it, when the Iotians know what you’re up to.”
“What makes you think they do not?” Kor leaned in, his breaths hitting the human cheek. “That is quite a presumption.”
Kirk unclenched his jaw. “Because you haven’t bulldozed them, yet. I’ve seen none of your guys in the time we’ve been here.”
Kor stood up, withdrawing his hand, as he stared hard and unforgiving. “Humans speak too much.”
Kirk stared back. “Where is my first officer?”
Kor started to circle the chair, the hood transferring from hand to hand. “He is… somewhere else.”
“Hilarious - Where’s my first officer?”
Kor shook his head. “Tsk tsk, Captain - such a temper.”
Kirk gritted his teeth, then took a deep breath. He closed his eyes a moment, seeming to center himself. When he opened them, Kor was back in his line of sight.
Kirk whispered, “What do you want from me?”
Kor quirked a lip. “That is a loaded question, with many possibilities.” Kor leaned down, both hands gripping the chair back; with his face mere centimeters from the blue, icy glare that never wavered.
Kor’s eyes settled on the pink lips again, and smiled. “I shall find some use for you.”
Kirk let out a frustrated growl; his hands testing the restraints at his wrists. Kor straightened, still smiling.
“In the mean time, you can either impart information - “
“Like fuck I will!”
“ - Or I can use the mind-sifter.” The Klingon’s eye’s danced. “Have you heard of the sifter, Captain?”
Kirk remained silent; his legs anxious to move as he watched the Klingon pace again.
“It is a mind-ripper - depending on how much force is used.” Kor’s glee was evident. “It records every thought, every bit of knowledge - every piece of information.” He stopped behind Kirk’s chair. “The mind is emptied. Permanently. What's left is more vegetable than human.” Kor leaned down, and whispered in the reddening ear, “However, with your soul-less Vulcan, perhaps there won’t be much difference.”
“You sonuvabitch!” Kirk thrashed in his chair. “Don’t you dare - “
“Whose to say I haven’t?”
Kirk stopped, breathing heavy, and stared at the floor. His eyes seemed to search the carpeting, as if he could intuit the answer. After a moment, he jerked his head up and glared. “You haven’t. You wouldn’t. You fucking liar - “
Kor yanked the chair back, angling it on the back legs; his face so close to the angry human. “You are so sure, Captain; so sure.” His face searched the pale one beneath; his lips so close to the alien features. “We shall see, James. We shall see.”
Kor let the chair drop forward, and he stared at the back of the blonde head. “I will have your obedience, Captain.”
“Fuck you.”
“You will obey me.” He stood in front of Kirk, and leaned in once again. “Or your Vulcan will - “
Kirk spat, and the responding smack reverberated in the room. The chair leaned sideways, and Kor fisted the blonde hair, dragging the body towards him; his hand raised again.
The Klingon’s grin was bright and menacing, as spit slid down his cheek, and onto Kirk’s forehead. “I will enjoy breaking you, James.“
“How do you know my - “
But both of them looked sideways, as a commotion entered the room.
“Kor, we found - “
Krako skidded to a halt in front of them, his eyes widening as he looked back and forth.
“What are you - “
“It is none of your concern.”
“Are you - “
“It is none of your concern.” Kor released the head, and lowered his hand; giving one last glance to the surprised human, who was staring at the Iotian’s arms. “Why do you intrude?”
Krako stuttered. “We - we found these!”
Kor looked at Krako’s bounty, and picked up the communicator. He walked towards a source of light, and tilted it in the glow; watching as the buttons glinted.
Krako’s pride bubbled over. “Okmyx is a goner, and his gang’s pinched and scattered. We took his office and turned them out.”
Kor smiled. “Excellent.” He walked towards Krako again, and picked up the other instruments in turn; favoring the phaser, especially.
Kirk watched the entire exchange; his eyes counting the items as Kor inspected them. His brow furrowed a moment, but quickly regained its composure. Kor didn’t seem to remember his presence until the Klingon beckoned a soldier forward, and gave him the equipment.
“Take these to my room.” Kor turned his head, showing a vicious grin. “The human, too.”
Kirk braced himself to be beamed aboard somewhere, but found his chair being dragged backwards, instead. The legs caught on carpeting and floorboards, but the Klingons seemed amused at how it bounced him. Kirk knocked against the doorframe, as he eavesdropped on distancing conversation.
“Take me back to your office. I will speak with this Harner.”
Kirk’s chair crashed against a hallway wall, banging his legs. He gritted his teeth as he heard the guards start up a flight of stairs.
***
When Scotty walked on to the bridge, he was met with some applause. Uhura smiled as he waved it off, and Sulu grinned.
“The bridge is yours, Mister Scott.”
“Good man, good man - any trouble?”
Sulu’s grin faltered. “The Captain and Mister Spock are overdue for their check in.”
Scotty shook his head. “I know how this goes. Lads can’t keep their communicators fer the life of ‘em!”
“They’re overdue thirty minutes.”
Scotty sighed. “Thirty minutes too long.”
Uhura turned from her station. “I can put out a radio hail to Bela Okmyx? It’s how we established contact, in the first place.”
Scotty nodded. “That seems ta be the way ta do it. If ye would, Lieutenant.”
Uhura turned back to her station, only to frown at her communications board.
“Mister Scott… we are receiving a hail.”
Scotty turned around, sharing a confused moment with Uhura before he nodded.
“Put ‘em on.”
There was a sound of shuffling, and hushed tones, before: “This here’s Krako. You gonna listen to me, and you gonna listen good.”
Scotty thumped back in the command chair, his surprise evident. “I’m listenin’?”
“I’ve got your Captain here, all tied up and sittin’ pretty; but he’s gonna be changin’ colors if I don’t get me some heaters - get what I’m sayin’?”
Scotty sighed, already halfway out of the chair. “I get ta picture, Mister... Krako, ye say yer name was?”
“JoJo Krako.”
“Right, Mister Krako.” Scotty was at the console, already pushing buttons. “Ye’d like ta meet with me?”
“I’ll bring my best boys for the exchange.”
Scotty shook his head. “I don’t think so, Krako Sir.”
The familiar hum was heard over the comm. line, and Sulu gawked.
“That shouldn’t work twice!”
Chekov shrugged.
Scotty pressed another button. “Scott ta Giotto.”
“Giotto here.”
“Don’t be surprised, but yer gonna find another visitor in yer brig.”
A beat; then, “... Yes, Sir?”
“I’ll be down there in five. Scott out.”
Scotty looked at Sulu. “The bridge is yers, lad.” He walked to the turbolift, and then paused. “Uhura, if ye’d still contact Okmyx, and put him through ta me quarters - I got ta be gettin’ Keenser.”
Uhura nodded, not turning to the console at her station. Then before the turbolift doors closed, she swiftly got up and followed after, looking determined as she faced the other occupant; which was Scotty examining his shoes.
Sulu sighed loudly, shaking his head at the closed turbolift doors. He then walked slowly to the Captain’s chair, and plopped down; his fingers smoothing the armrests. “Home, sweet home.”
Chekov didn’t look away from his console. “It is comfy chair, no?”
“I’m not complaining. But between those two always leaving the bridge, and the Captain and Mister Spock always doing missions together, I might have this chair molded to my ass.”
“It is sviwel chair, you can spin?”
Sulu laughed. “Not that bored, yet. Besides, the Captain might have me beat - for all I know, the screws are loosened, and I’d topple over.”
Chekov smirked. “And hit your noggin, yes? Might be good for you.”
“Thanks, Pasha.”
“Especially vith your eye sense.”
Another sigh. “Not this again - ”
“You losing bet,” Chekov sing-songed.
Sulu rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”
“You can’t see vith your two eyes.” Chekov nodded at his console. “Zem two? In love.”
“You think everyone’s in love.”
“Zem two, zey don’t know it - dance ‘round each other, yes?”
“I think they’re just friends.”
Chekov spun around. “Ve are friends. Zey two?” He curled his fingers. “Are ‘friends’.”
“... Did you seriously just air quote?”
“I have point!”
“What ‘point’?”
Chekov gaped. “Not fair, you do it!”
Sulu put down his hands. “I’m just saying, Pasha, I think you’re misinterpreting things.”
“Zey alvays off together, no? Looking at each other, no? Standing too close - “
Sulu chuckled, and shook his head in disbelief. “Dude, that describes us. And no offense, but I’m not in love with you.”
“Heh. I have girl. You have - ” and Chekov made a quick jerking motion with his hand.
Sulu heard some snickering behind him, and he rolled his eyes. “Nice, man.”
“Just truth. I have sense of zhese zings.”
“Pasha, I might hate you.”
“You do not. I have Lego.”
Sulu wordlessly gestured a moment, then - “Dude, I helped you with that battleship! You’re not going to hold out on me now, are you?”
“I helped design - but you are mean.”
“I’m not mean!”
“Yes, you are mean.” Chekov sniffed, as he turned back to his console. “I do not play vith zhose who are mean.”
Sulu bent over, pressing his palms to his eyelids.
“... I’m sorry.”
“Vat is zat? I zought I heard woice. Must be mistaken.”
“You are such a little bitch.”
“Must be ‘magination. I hear zings.”
“That explains a lot.”
“I had friend here, must be in brig.”
“I’m sorry! Goddammit.”
Chekov smiled at his comm. display. “It is okay, Hikaru. Ve all make mistakes.”
Sulu thumped back in the chair, and murmured, “You are such a drama queen.”
Chekov hummed happily at his station.
***
Kirk opened his eyes lazily; his focus struggling to find itself in the room. It was dark, with a blue glow that seemed to come from an open window. Sigma Iotia II had one moon, and it appeared to be shining brightly tonight. A beam of moonlight hit a quilted bed comforter, and Kirk followed the seams with his eyes until he blinked rapidly, and sat up straight - as much as he was able to.
He pulled at his wrists, and tried to move his ankles - nothing. He was still tied to the chair, with the ropes digging into his skin. Kirk looked down at his chest, to see the ribbed cotton of his wife beater, and the buttons undone of his white dress shirt. He sighed. He hadn’t done any of that. But who did was a mystery, as it appeared he was completely alone in the room.
There was no distant thrumming of music, and the world seemed strangely quiet. He twisted his head to look about the place, and analyzed everything he could see. There was a small wooden table near him, with two chairs. There was a dresser with a mirror. But more importantly, on top of that dresser there were three communicators, and at least a tricorder, lying on top of a white doily. A phaser was caught precariously in the laced edge, hanging off a wooden corner. Kirk looked at it with longing.
But all in all, it was incredibly cramped. The space Kirk occupied was in front of the door, next to the side of the bed. It was maybe the most spacious area in the entire room; the pathways around furniture looking like a snug fit. Kirk shook his head; but then looked down at himself, and - minutely - started rocking the chair back and forth.
He grimaced at the creaking the chair made, but the momentum got him rolled to his feet. It was certainly an awkward position, but he was able to lift his head, and look about. He looked over at the window, and then started to shuffle slowly forward.
He was past the table and chairs when he heard the door open, and a light was turned on.
Someone cleared their throat, then: “My, the captain fancies himself a snail.”
Kirk bit his lip.
“You wouldn’t leave before we had a late dinner, would you? These Iotians insist on feeding you.”
Kirk’s neck whip-lashed as the chair was pulled backwards; dragged on its back legs to the open space, and dropped forward. Kirk’s teeth clicked, and he glared at the Klingon who came into view. Kor stood in front of him; a lascivious smile matching the dark eyes that traveled from his face, down to look pointedly at the buttons on Kirk’s shirt.
“I hope you will forgive me James, for searching you earlier. I needed to make certain you had no hidden weapons… besides the communicator strapped to your lower back.”
Kirk gulped.
There was a knock on the door, and Kor turned to answer it. The wooden edge tapped the back frame of the chair with a kuh, as items and orders were exchanged in the available space. When the door swung closed, Kor came into view carrying a rectangular tray.
The Klingon minutely nodded. “I would have them serve us, but as you can see, we’re in intimate circumstances.”
Kirk watched as Kor carried the tray to the table; having to walk sideways to maneuver next to the bed.
“Why are you in such a small space?”
Kor lifted the lids off their plates, and shrugged. “It is no matter of importance.”
Kirk narrowed his eyes. “You’re a commander. Wouldn’t you want a bigger room?”
Kor set the food out, and then discarded the lids and tray to the bed. “In your Starfleet, perhaps you need loftier conditions. It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable... in that manner.”
Kirk rolled his eyes. “Right. Warriors and shit liked to be tied to chairs, and left alone in rooms instead.”
Kor quirked a smile, as he moved to sit down. “Warriors would not be caught tied to a chair, in the first place.”
“Like I had much - “ and he was caught off guard, as Kor wedged his hands between Kirk’s knees to grip the seat edge, and dragged him forward to the table. Kirk took a shaky breath as he looked up, and saw Kor look nonchalantly at the dinner plates.
Kirk held his breath a moment. The smells were pungent.
Kor sniffed. “They eat no meat on this planet. No wonder they are spineless.”
Kirk’s eyebrows went to his hairline. “Have you met them?”
Kor smirked. “Their weaponry makes no difference to me.”
Kirk shook his head, and looked down at his own plate. Unlike the Klingon’s, which seemed to have a tangle of slimy roots in a sauce, Kirk’s was a creamy red soup.
It didn’t look entirely alien, and Kirk sniffed it with a pleasant expression. His stomach growled.
Kirk looked pointedly at his set of silverware. “So, do warriors get spoon fed, or what?”
Kor looked sideways at him. “I was under the impression that’s how baby captains ate.”
“Well, believe it or not - “ and Kirk tested his restraints, “I did master a spoon and fork before I took Captaincy. If you untie me, I can show you my impressive skills.”
Kor barked a laugh. “You are an amusing human.” He looked at the silverware near Kirk’s bowl, and picked up the sharper implements from a napkin. Tucking them near his own plate, he then got up. “I will untie your hands. You will be severely punished if you abuse this gift I’m giving you.”
Kirk made a face at that, but then composed himself when Kor sat back down. “Then I’ll just have to resist my temptation to gouge out your eyes with a spoon.”
“Such dirty talk, James - at dinner? It is impolite.”
“I see you’re all about manners, Kor.” Kirk looked over at the Klingon, who was picking up the roots with his fingers.
Kor grunted. “I like to use my hands.”
“Oh, so do I!” Kirk clapped his hands together. “We have so much in common.”
Kor took a long drink from a glass, and swilled the contents. “Then perhaps you should use them, instead of your mouth.”
Kirk looked down, and hummed merrily as he ticked a finger at his plate; then located silverware with his right hand. With some hesitation, he ladled the thick soup onto a spoon, and - after a deep breath - put it in his mouth.
Kirk wore a surprised expression.
Kor noticed. “It is up to your standards?”
Kirk swallowed. “It tastes like strawberries.” He took another bite. “It’s a bit sweet, but misleading.”
“How so?”
“On Earth, this would be tomato soup. But this isn’t bad at all.” Kirk savored another taste, keeping the spoon in his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Kor watching him. After a pause, Kirk gave a pleased hum, then turned the spoon over in his mouth; licking the underside with the broad surface of his tongue. The rounded edge caught between his lips, and he let the tip slide out slowly. “Delicious.”
Kor took a deep breath. “Warriors... do not eat sweets.”
“You got me on that one. Here I am, stuck on this planet, being held captive, and I dare to eat this wimpy-ass soup.’ Kirk smiled as the Klingon watched another spoonful approach his lips. “I guess I’m dying without honor.”
“Humans as a species are too weak for honor.”
Kirk pointed the rounded edge. “How encouraging. You should give motivational speeches.”
“Honor is motivation enough, Captain.”
“Gee, maybe I should just gouge my own eyes out.”
As Kirk tilted the spoon towards his face, Kor gripped his wrist.
“Humans... make excellent slaves, however.”
They stared at each other; the grip tightening excruciatingly with each passing moment. When Kirk bit his lip, his hand flopped to the table.
“Is... is that so?” Kirk rotated his wrist. “On Earth, we would say those who employ slaves have no decency.”
Kor licked a fingertip. “Then it is just as well that this is not Earth.”
Kirk kept the spoon on the edge of his lips, seemingly lost in thought. When he dipped the spoon down again, a loud crash reverberated from the bottom floor, vibrating beneath them.
Gunfire was heard as guards stormed the room. “Commander, we are under attack.”
“By whom?”
“Unknown.”
Kor dismissed them with a hand. “Employ our phasers.”
“Yes, sir!”
When the guards left the room, another crash and boom were heard, and Kor huffed.
“I must leave you for a moment, James. Please enjoy your sweets.” The Klingon got up swiftly, his hand only pausing on the back of Kirk’s neck to grip lightly. “You will be here when I return.”
Kirk watched Kor exit, then looked down at his spoon. Turning his head towards the dresser, he heard another crash.
And then he heard glass breaking behind him.
He couldn’t twist his head far enough, so he pushed himself from the table. Kirk managed to push too far, as the chair back fell and angled with the side of the bed. Giving a frustrated sigh, he stretched his arms back to push himself off the mattress - only to have momentum punch himself in the gut with the table’s edge.
Kirk was trying to bend himself in half to get at his restraints, when he heard scuffling and a familiar nasally cadence behind him.
“Seems our Captain’s got himself in a pickle.”
Kirk groaned in relief as a knife cut the restraints around his waist, and then those at his thighs and ankles. Kirk wobbled as he stood up, banging his knee on the table’s edge.
Okmyx looked about the room. “What ya doin’ in this place?”
“Apparently, having dinner.” Kirk staggered over to the dresser, picking up the communicators and tricorder. When he couldn’t untangle the phaser, he scooped up the doily and tried to take it with him - only for the mirror to slip and crash to the ground.
“Fuck!” Kirk muttered, charging for the open window. He motioned Okmyx first as he tied the doily at the edges, making a sack he could grip at the knot. After a minute, Kirk climbed out the window himself; to the beat of charging footsteps near the bedroom door.
“Slide, Captain!”
The angle of the ladder was such that Kirk attempted it; gripping the edges in a deep friction burn, yet stopping as he neared the bottom.
It wasn’t perfect, but when he fell to the right he wasn’t far off the ground.
Okmyx grabbed his arm. “This way!”
Kirk tugged it back. “Where’s Spock?”
“We couldn’t find him - hurry!”
“I’m not leaving until - “
And then Kirk tilted his head to the left; pausing a moment to look at the brick corner of the club. As if hearing something, he jogged towards it; only to run into a familiar face.
A disheveled Spock panted; the cerulean bruise swallowing his cheek in the darkness. “Usually - you do not - have this much fanfare, Captain.”
“Fuck.” Kirk let out a breath, and gripped both of Spock’s upper arms tightly. His hand reached up towards the Vulcan’s face, but the sound of firecrackers made them jump. Kirk tugged, and dragged Spock by the arm towards an awaiting black motorcar.
Okmyx barked at them, “Get in, get in!”
Kirk pushed Spock inside, where they found themselves wedged next to Okmyx. The tires squealed, and the car sped off.
Spock turned his head, and said calmly, “You are injured, Captain.”
Kirk shook his head at him, disbelievingly. “I think I’ll live, Spock.”
But Spock twisted to look out the back window; and after a long moment, Kirk turned to do the same. In the road behind them, Kirk could see suited figures; some retreating to their own cars, and some in pursuit. Before they turned out of sight, Kirk saw a man cower before a Klingon, and get smacked in the face with a pistol.
What was notable, was the look of utter shock as the man touched his jaw - and then ran away.
***
Krako had not lied about the Okmyx gang being scattered and ransacked. When they got to the boss’s office, the hallway had every door open; a breeze from open windows scattering papers over broken pottery, and planters turned on their sides. The ornate doors were wide open, showing the billiards table slashed on the green, and pedestals with statues thrown to the ground. The only thing left untouched was the tome of American Gangster History, unopened.
Kirk caught Spock’s eye, and tilted his head towards it. “Some things are sacred.”
“Indeed.”
They picked their way through the mess, as Okmyx leaned on his pool table and gave a frustrated sigh.
“Krako ain’t got no respect.” Okmyx pounded his fist on the frame. “No boss deserves this!”
Kirk and Spock exchanged a look.
“It’s one thing for a boss to be overthrown - but another to be turned out!” Okmyx looked about; seemingly ready to tear into anything. “If I had me some heaters, none of this would’ve happened! Put the fear of the boss into them!”
Before Kirk could open his mouth, Okmyx waved a hand. “I talked to your Scott; he’s made it crystal clear. But with them folk at the club, I know I ain’t got nothin’.”
Kirk approached the table slowly, leaning on the frame next to Okmyx. “You got us out, Bela. We are immensely grateful.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Okmyx muttered. “Your Scott asked me. He’s balled up people, but he’s good. He’s a good man. Got me to my daughter before - ” hands gestured around them, “this got to her.”
Kirk nodded. “The Enterprise is concerned about the turmoil down here.”
“That’s nice.”
“We’d like to help.”
Okmyx huffed a laugh. “If ya ain’t gettin’ me heaters, I don’t know what ya can do.”
Spock stepped forward. “We would like to take part in the rescue of your mayor.”
Okmyx eyed them both. “You would, would ya? What ya plan on doin’?”
Kirk and Spock shared a glance, before Kirk cleared his throat. “We’re not… entirely sure yet.”
“Huh!” Okmyx walked towards his desk. “I’ll take your help, Captain, but we can’t have ya millin’ about without some plan.”
“We will procure one in the night.” Spock followed Okmyx. “We wish to ascertain Mayor Harner’s location before we attempt a rescue.”
“I overheard something about him being at that warehouse.” Kirk stood next to Spock on the opposite side of the desk. “Kor wanted to talk to him, and Krako seemed to suggest they had him there.”
Okmyx nodded. “I’ll send my boys out to investigate.”
“Krako’s probably regrouped there now, though. After what happened at the club, they’re probably nursing their wounds.”
Okmyx looked down at his chair - the leather also slashed, with the lining turned out - and opted to lean on his arms, gripping the edge of the desk. He closed his eyes a moment, sighed, and then opened them again.
“You fellas come up with a plan. I’ll talk to my boys. I say we hit ‘em tomorrow night, for good.”
“The Captain and myself can perform reconnaissance in the interim.”
Okmyx nodded. “Tonight, I’ll get my boys to set ya up in some rooms. Make yourselves at home.” He looked about his desk. “I’ll try to sort this out and plan myself.”
“We’ll come up with something.” Kirk turned to Spock. “We should probably contact the Enterprise; since we’ve got our communicators back.”
“Captain, that may not be a good idea. If the Klingons are orbiting the planet, they could pick up the signature of our transmission, and discover our location. This is not ideal if we wish to remain hidden.”
“Like they don’t figure we’re at Okmyx’s, anyway. But we could find a radio station?”
“I got one on the next floor, Captain."
Kirk narrowed his eyes at Okmyx. “Why do you have a radio station?”
Okmyx waved a hand. “We chatter like that; on a special frequency.”
Spock minutely shook his head. “If we use your facilities, that would also reveal our whereabouts.”
Kirk nodded. “I guess we find somewhere else in the morning. I need to know what’s going on up there.”
“Your boys seemed to have a handle on things.” Okmyx smiled. “And that dame, too - Uhura.” He cut an imaginary line near his hip. “What a looker.”
Kirk patted Spock’s arm. “I’m sure they’re okay. But like you Bela, I just need to keep track of... my guys.”
Okmyx nodded, then looked pointedly at Kirk’s hands. “I’ll get ya some stuff for your palms, too. And your guy’s face, there.” Okmyx squinted at Spock’s cheek. “Ain’t seen green like that, before. I’m sorry we couldn’t get to ya faster.”
Kirk shook his head. “We got out. That’s fast enough. Another second with Kor, and I think I would’ve lost it.” Kirk ignored the Vulcan Death Glare, as he looked up at the suits entering the room.
Okmyx shifted some papers on his desk. “Let my boys know if ya need anything.”
“Thank you, Bela.”
Okmyx nodded at them, and waved at his guards. Kirk and Spock followed them to separate bedrooms; but wound up planning on the bedspread in the Captain’s room during most of the night.
It was in the wee hours of the morning, as Spock wrapped Kirk’s hands with salve for the third time, that Kirk finally asked him outright: “Did they use the mind-sifter on you?”
Spock made sure the bandage was in place, before he answered, “No, they did not.”
Kirk took a deep breath as he reached for an ice pack, and placed it gently against Spock’s cheek. “Good. Your mind doesn’t belong to them.”
When Spock’s fingertips grazed the human hand, in order to hold the pack on his own, it was only then that Kirk got up, and resumed his thoughtful pacing
***
“No, I take it back: He’s a damn fool.” McCoy crossed his arms; his face purely disgruntled and vexed, with a PADD tucked at his bicep.
Uhura sipped her coffee, and watched the exchange impassively.
It was almost the same as before. Through the observation window, they could both see Scotty still sitting backwards on a chair; a sack of sandwiches near his feet. Keenser was also there, still watching intently; with beady eyes surveying the scene like a tennis match. And there was even a gangster, who still looked to be about going out of his mind - although this one was mostly bald, and had a murderous glare instead of expressing honest perplexity.
McCoy shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m allowin’ this.”
Uhura gave him a sideways glance. “Because it somehow worked the first time. And you’re worried about those two just as much as I am.”
“Jim’s a damn fool, too. Something’s got to have happened. Spock knows where that radio station is.”
“I agree. But considering our bad guy here had their communicator, he might be our best bet.”
“And Scotty’s going to get it out of him.” McCoy looked up at the ceiling. “God help us all.”
Uhura touched the crook of his arm, and he looked back down at her, giving a wry smile. She tried to smile back. “They’ll be okay.”
McCoy huffed. “They better be, or I’ll kill ‘em.”
She nodded at that; then mindlessly sipped her coffee again as they watched the exchange taking place.
Scotty gesticulated wildly.
“Aye, so - we was on this ice planet, right, fer a whole year. And them’s thought they’d be leavin’ these tribbles, jist lollin’ about - some joke a lad ‘ad on us, as they kept on comin’, like bloody rabbits; eatin’ everythin’ we got - “
Keenser watched closely as Scotty paused to eat the remainder of his sandwich, and brushed the crumbs off his lap. “So I was thinkin’, as I put Keenser in this snowman one day - he’s aboot the right ‘eight, jist a thing ta do - and the way his face, all stickin’ up like that, as he tried ta get out - it gives me this idea about beamin’ a tribble - “
Krako snorted. “What the hell do I care about your - “
“- Inta the middle of ‘em; and sees how long it takes fer ‘em ta dig out. It took Keenser a good five minutes; so I was thinkin’ a tribble would take -“
“I don’t even know what a - what a twaddle is, pal -“
“ - Maybe twice as long, as they’re jist wee fuzzy beasties, and they got na legs. But they jist huddle in there, not movin’, not e’en multiplyin’ themselves out - “
Krako shook his head, and wordlessly gestured; but Scotty leaned forward.
“So I was thinkin’, maybe they need incen’ive, aye? They’d been fancyin’ these beans - which Keenser got all ragin’ about - but I started throwin’ ‘em at the top, and,” Scotty laughed, “ye should’ve seen them tribbles, two at a go, chasin’ after one bean - beatin’ Keenser’s time by half - “
Keenser crossed his arms, and humphed.
***
Kirk and Spock woke early the following morning; grateful for the hot shower and the few hours of rest. Okmyx had been good on his word in making them feel comfortable, as they were able to come and go from their rooms as they pleased; with the only guards being at the end of their long hallway for security’s sake. Kirk and Spock passed them in greeting as they left; where in exchange they were instructed on where to find the kitchens. This was fortuitous for them, as it had been a while since that interrupted dinner on the Enterprise. Spock had four slices of toast with a sour jam, while Kirk tried a sort of pastry with his coffee. They ate quickly, wanting to get a start on the day ahead.
“I wish we hadn’t left our jackets at the club,” Kirk said, as they now traversed the back alleys away from headquarters; taking a path that Kalos had drawn out on a notepad at breakfast. “We had that other set of communicators and phasers in them, but hell - I’m cold, and I still somehow stink.”
“We did not expect to be marooned on the planet.” Spock led the way, as he knew the building they were looking for on sight. “Perhaps Bela Okmyx will allow us use of his facilities to wash our items.”
“We could’ve this morning - but we really didn’t have the time.” Kirk rolled down his cuffed shirtsleeves. “We just need to send a message to Sulu, and then find that warehouse garage and set up surveillance.” Kirk tilted his head to the side, and smiled. “Hopefully I don’t offend your Vulcan sensibilities too much.”
Spock didn’t meet his eyes. “We are in peculiar circumstances.”
Kirk laughed. “Ouch! I know what that means.”
“I meant nothing other than - “
“It’s not fair, you know, Vulcans barely sweat - “ Kirk’s eyes widened. “Hey, I bet you’re colder than I am!”
Spock still avoided his gaze. “I have regulated my body temperature to - “
“Right, it’s near 15 centigrade; don’t give me that crap.” Kirk looked behind them. “Maybe we can ask Bela to - “
“What is your fondness for insisting on things which I deem to not be necessary; especially at the risk of your own - “
“Because I’m difficult.” Kirk’s smile turned into a grin. “Admit it, it’s part of my charm.”
Spock quietly huffed. “I will admit to no such thing.”
They stopped behind a white brick building, and leaned against a wall. Kirk looked along the face of it, appearing to count the windows. “How did you get into this place, anyway?”
“We walked through the front entrance.” Spock turned away from it. “I suspect that might not work in our current circumstance.”
Kirk smirked. “You mean, they’ve started locking doors against sneaky Vulcans.”
Spock puzzled that a moment. “I do not believe she saw my - “
“Spock. Let’s just get in there.”
After they confirmed the back doors being locked, they picked a window near Spock’s estimation of the broadcasting room. Kirk climbed up on Spock’s back to peek inside. To their great fortune, the place appeared to be dark and vacant.
Kirk stepped off, leaning against the wall. “I think you closed shop, Spock.”
“Perhaps, but it is to our great advantage.”
Kirk motioned with a thumb. “I’ll sneak in and look around, if I can climb up again?”
Spock was already bending. “With the caveat that you will open the back door once you are inside.”
“Deal. Saddle up.”
Balancing precariously on the Vulcan’s back, Kirk managed to pry open a crack in the window; his fingertips wedging enough to gain leverage. It opened in unexpected smoothness, although just barely enough for Kirk’s small frame to edge through. The bottom of his un-tucked shirt rode up his back; exposing skin as most of his body slid inside, and onto a table.
“Captain?”
“Fine, Spock. Just fine.” Kirk balanced himself on his arms, as he carefully slid the remainder of his legs, and unhooked his ankles from the window ledge. He looked like a sprinter, crouched into position, as he tried to arrange his body in a way that wouldn’t land him flat on his face. He looked about the dim room, and spied the turntables on the opposite wall of a wooden door; which fortunately had a window. He needed to get to the latter, first.
Kirk crept off the table and kept down. There was another large table in his way, but fortunately the room was carpeted and decent on his knees. He inched slowly to the door, and then carefully stood up to peer out the observation window.
Where two teenagers - too tangled up in each other to notice Kirk - were headed straight towards him.
Kirk cursed under his breath, and dove for a navy blue tarp next to him; which appeared to be covering a table of old equipment. As he situated himself underneath, he heard the door open, along with footsteps and giggling.
The girl sighed, then: “Are you sure?”
A pleasant hum; then the boy said, “More than sure. They closed the place after Sue was attacked.”
“Poor - “ she gasped, “Sue. I hope she’s okay.”
“Not as okay as me.”
There was some more giggling, and bumping of furniture, and Kirk rolled his eyes. He looked next to him and felt the wall, and eased himself into a sitting position; careful not to jostle anything. He pulled his knees up to fit, and heard a soft moan. He covered his eyes with one hand, and bit his lip.
“Oh, Alex - your dad keeps me so damn busy, I never get to see you.”
“Daddy can’t help it Bodie, he’s been busy, too. We been helpin’ those Starfleet.”
“I know, I know - but I never get to see you.” There was a wet smack of lips. “I miss you, honey.”
“Oh, I miss you! I wish we didn’t have so much going on.”
“If wishes were horses,” and Kirk heard the sound of buttons popping, and items dropping to the floor. Kirk grimaced.
He rubbed the skin behind his ears, looking on either side of him. He was in a long line of tables, with a box a meter away from him. There had been a table in the middle of the room, and the couple didn’t sound too close. Getting on his knees again, he lifted the bottom of the tarp, and hazarded a look.
“Your dad be sendin’ me out too much.”
They were near the turntables, with the both of them leaning against the counter’s edge; wrapped around each other. The front of her blue dress had been undone, partially exposing a black brassiere, while a matching blue handbag laid at her feet; the items scattered far and near. Kirk glanced up to their faces, and confirmed what he suspected; with the brunette, bobbed hair, and the young kid still wearing red.
One of Bodie’s hands was tangled in her dark hair; his eyes trailing down to the front of her dress. He wore a mournful expression, as if he were memorizing every bit of this moment.
But Alex shook her head and pleaded, “He needs you. Your one of his - “
“He’s gotta know, Alex. There ain’t no way.“
“But I ain’t say nothin’! I don’t even smile at you when he’s around. How could he - “
“He does, Alex. He just does.” Bodie sighed ruefully. “And he don’t want his daughter being no moll - he don’t want his daughter datin’ me.”
His fingers trailed from her hair down to her neck; a thumb caressing the jaw-line, to rest on her lower lip. He tilted her chin, and bent his head; their lips meeting in a soft, chaste kiss.
Alex sniffed, and whispered fiercely, “I don’t care what he says - we love each other!”
Bodie swallowed. “Your dad don’t like it, and what he says - “
“Then we’ll get out!”
Kirk narrowed his eyes, as Alex gripped Bodie fiercely; her expression determined.
“We can do it. You know we can.”
“Not without your dad’s - “
“Bodie!” She pushed him away, and he staggered back a few steps. “This is our chance. You know it’s our chance.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Not if your dad won’t allow it.”
She clenched her jaw, looking over at the open window. “Tomorrow - “
“Tomorrow ain’t nothin’, Sweetheart.”
She looked back at him; as if a bit startled. They both stared hard at each other, unflinching, until Alex bit her lip; fumbling with the buttons of her dress.
“Well,” and she took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do, then.”
Bodie watched as Alex bent to retrieve her purse. She avoided his gaze, as she looked around at the ground; and Bodie’s hands waved in exasperation. “Alex, honey, don’t be like that -”
She stomped around, quickly grabbing items from the floor, and shoving them into her bag. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”
“This! This, Alex. Today is the first time in a week we’ve gotten time together -”
“Because you’re supposed to be on some patrol, right? Watchin’ them Starfleet?” Alex huffed as she bent over, looking under the middle table. “You think if somethin’ gone happen to them, that more time won’t be - “
“Alex, come on - “
“I mean it, Bodie! We’d have more time if you - Oh, where’d my lipstick run off to?”
“What?”
“My lipstick!” She put her hands on her hips; closing her eyes as tears of frustration threatened to spill over. “My new one. I just bought it with Christine yesterday!”
Bodie looked at her, in a daze; then to the ground. “Lipstick? Why does it even - ”
And Kirk saw it before he could even think it. Lowering the tarp, he saw the tube under the very edge; lying just on his side of shadows, angled at the border. No doubt the bottom of the tube was visible from the other side, yet most laid next to his pinkie finger.
“Oh! It’s there!”
Kirk remained still, as a hand swept under the tarp to grab it. A whisper of touch had graced his knuckle; but it was enough that Kirk knew her skin was very, very soft.
Kirk held his breath. The hand had darted out quickly, but now there was silence. He bit his lip, and -
The tarp was ripped open, and a pistol barrel was pointed at his face.
“Get out! Get out from under there! Show yourself!”
Kirk crawled out slowly, stumbling to stand up, and almost collided with Alex. He held up his hands.
“Look, I’m sorry, but - “
Bodie shoved the gun at him. “What are you doin’ here?”
Kirk looked over at the turntables. “I came to use the radio. I had no idea - “
“Were you spyin’ on us?”
Kirk clenched his jaw. Bodie had a protective arm around Alex, and she was staring at Kirk, wide-eyed.
Kirk shook his head slowly. “No. Not at all.” Kirk looked pointedly at the weapon, but Bodie didn’t drop it. “I just - I looked through the door window, to see if I could go into the hallway, and saw you guys coming. I hid because I had no idea who you were.”
Alex let out a breath. “Why didn’t you say anythin’ when you did?”
Kirk bit his cheek. “It was - uh - kind of too late. I only realized who you both were a minute ago.”
Bodie and Alex shared a long look. After a moment she nodded, and Bodie lowered his gun.
Kirk slowly put down his hands. “I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t have - “
“You won’t tell the boss, will you?” Bodie glanced worriedly at Alex. “Since you heard - “
Kirk quickly shook his head. “No! No no no. It’s none of my business!” He looked between the two teenagers, who were still tense. “Really! I mean, part of it I didn’t even get. But as you guys said, there are a lot of problems right now. I just really want to get in touch with my ship, and try to rescue Harner. I don’t actually care what - “ and Kirk motioned between the two of them, “you guys have going on. I mean,” and Kirk took a deep breath, “I didn’t even see anything. Honest.”
Bodie looked over the features of his face; as if evaluating what he saw there. After a minute he nodded, his shoulders relaxing, as he loosened his grip on the young brunette.
Bodie motioned to the turntables. “So, you... need the radio?”
Kirk nodded. He looked over at the turntables himself, before pausing in realization. Going wide-eyed, he whipped his head to look at them. “Actually - I’m supposed to unlock the back entrance! To get Spock in here, first.” He started towards the door. “You mind - ?”
Bodie shook his head rapidly. “Oh - no! We’re just leaving, actually.” And before Kirk could get there himself, Bodie jerked Alex’s hand and dragged her towards the door; where they both practically ran out, and down the hall.
It was only after a minute of staring dumbly at their exit, that Kirk sighed loudly.
A deep voice concurred. “That was an illuminating conversation.”
Kirk turned around; and a smile slowly spread on his anxious face. He walked with his head tilted towards the open window; where he climbed up onto the table to peer over the ledge.
Spock was just underneath the windowsill, with his arms crossed. “It appears Doctor McCoy was correct.”
Kirk minutely shook his head in disbelief. “You were listening this entire time.”
“Indeed.”
Kirk laid one arm across the window frame, and balanced his head on the other. “In fact, you never went to those back doors. You don’t trust me, do you? You were listening to see if I’d come get you.”
“It is not a matter of trust.” Spock looked at his feet. “It is a matter of knowing your nature, and propensity for unfortunate happenstance.”
Kirk grinned. “Why, Mister Spock - that might be the fanciest way I’ve heard of saying I have bad luck.”
“On the contrary,” and Spock looked up pointedly, “the fact that I am standing here, as opposed to breaking and entering this facility in attempted rescue, proves the opposite.”
Kirk bit back a chuckle. “Touché.” He straightened his arms from the ledge. “But really, I’m going to go open the doors for real, this time.”
“I will meet you there.”
A minute passed, and neither of them moved.
“Spock, I’m pretty sure I’ll make it into the hallway just fine.”
Spock nodded. “I am certain you will.”
“That means you can go to the back doors, now.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason you wish for me to leave first?”
“Yeah - so you can meet me at the back doors.”
“Once I am certain that you have left the room, I shall go there.”
Kirk huffed. “You take your duties as first officer a bit too seriously, you know that?”
Spock considered it. “I will confess... it is only a part of my motivation.”
Kirk did chuckle that time, as he shook his head in amusement. Then he turned around to slowly slide off the table; where he proceeded to walk towards the door, and into the hall.
Part Four
Pairings: Reboot! Kirk/Spock, Scotty/Uhura, Kirk/Other
Rating: R - for bad manners, inappropriate touching, and gun-totin' shenanigans
Summary: The Enterprise is getting ready for their Valentine's Day celebrations, when they are ordered to investigate Sigma Iotia II for possible cultural contamination. When they get there however, Kirk and company discover way more "culture" than they had bargained for.
Note: Not like I'm your mama or anything, but there are hyperlinks in this part, and you might wanna click them; due to some song lyrics. I did not do this to express the deep, innermost yearnings of my fangirl heart; but rather because it's part of the plot. (I promise!) If the lyrics don't sound familiar, you might want to click the links. They're all to YouTube, and should be okay. ♥
Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Author Notes
Uhura stood next to McCoy, and watched through the observation window the scene taking place - which was similar to about an hour before, and an hour before that.
Scotty still sat backwards on his chair, while Okmyx screamed, and went ballistic.
“Get me outta here - GET ME OUTTA HERE!”
McCoy looked down at a PADD, as he bit the end of his stylus. “The man’s either a weird genius, or a damn fool.”
Uhura quirked her lip. “Can’t it be both?”
McCoy looked over at her, rueful. “Okmyx’s levels are reaching a breaking point. I’ll reserve ‘genius’ ‘til I see some action.”
Uhura looked pointedly. McCoy rolled his eyes.
It had, of course, only been 20 minutes ago that things had been a bit more peaceful. Okmyx, thoroughly exhausted, had stretched himself across the back bench; perhaps to get some rest, perhaps to watch the ceiling for a change in scenery. So maybe it had been a bit of a shock when a small, reptilian figure had crept closer and closer; until the tip of his head was only a dozen centimeters above Okmyx’s chest - staring with black, beady eyes like some searchlight.
That’s when Okmyx had started the yelling, and banging the observation window.
“You damn ghouls, that’s what you are - razzin’ me up for no purpose! What the hell do you want from me?”
At this, Scotty had reached into a lunch sack, and pulled out another sandwich.
Keenser had made a disapproving quibbling noise, as he had jumped on a bench to get a clearer looked at the proceedings.
Which turned out to be an auspicious position, for now:
“This man - THIS MAN IS DRIVING ME NUTSO! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED? Huh? You got it, you ugly sonuva - “
Uhura recoiled from the glass, and looked at McCoy in alarm. “Leonard, we need to let this guy rest.”
McCoy grunted an agreement, and was about to call the guard, when:
Okmyx kneeled in front of Scotty’s chair, begging his attention.
“Them heaters - you want them heaters? They’re in my desk drawer, nestled with a thousand clams. Just - just gimme back to my office, huh? I need to get to my daughter, she’s going out with this fella - “
Uhura leaned forward, her fingertips touching the glass; as she watched Scotty turn his head.
The Scotsman seemed to think a moment, then, “Ye’ll cooperate with us?”
Okmyx looked ready to weep with joy. “Yes - yes! Anything ya want! Just get me back down to my daughter.”
Scotty nodded, and then graced the man with a big grin. “That’s all I wanted, my good man! Here,” Scotty reached behind him, and opened his sack. “Sandwich?”
Okmyx blanched, as haggis spilled out the wrapper. Uhura choked back a relieved laugh.
McCoy harrumphed. “I guess that settles it, then.”
Keenser’s eyes followed the exchange of sandwiches with a nod of approval.
***
The black hood was lifted from Kirk’s face; and Kirk squinted his eyes, trying to adjust to the dimmed room. The walls were blood red with mood lighting, and dark lounging lined the interior. Cushions were abundant, and Kirk could now see they were another shade of maroon, or perhaps black. Either way, that wasn’t what caught his focus.
The Klingon stood in front of him, with the hood in his left hand, and a raised hand near Kirk’s jaw-line; sporting dangerously-long fingernails.
The Klingon breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring. His grin was wicked.
“The Federation promotes their pretty ones.” A nail skimmed the side of Kirk’s face, and Kirk hissed.
“Who the hell are you? This is Federation territory.”
“Funny, your Iotians don’t seem to think so.” His dark eyes possessed Kirk’s profile; the irises following the line from eyes, to nose, to lips. “I am Kor.”
Kirk narrowed his eyes. “Why are you hiding, Kor?”
Kor shook his head. “Your technology fails you.”
“Bullshit. You’re hiding somewhere on or near the planet, otherwise we would’ve seen you.”
“It is of no consequence - this planet is mine, now. I can go wherever I wish.”
Kirk bit a laugh. “Big words. Got action to back that up?”
Kor showed his teeth, as the fingernails grazed Kirk’s jaw, and tipped the human’s head to the side. “Good, honest hatred… Very refreshing.”
Kirk threw his head back. “You’ll see a lot more of it, when the Iotians know what you’re up to.”
“What makes you think they do not?” Kor leaned in, his breaths hitting the human cheek. “That is quite a presumption.”
Kirk unclenched his jaw. “Because you haven’t bulldozed them, yet. I’ve seen none of your guys in the time we’ve been here.”
Kor stood up, withdrawing his hand, as he stared hard and unforgiving. “Humans speak too much.”
Kirk stared back. “Where is my first officer?”
Kor started to circle the chair, the hood transferring from hand to hand. “He is… somewhere else.”
“Hilarious - Where’s my first officer?”
Kor shook his head. “Tsk tsk, Captain - such a temper.”
Kirk gritted his teeth, then took a deep breath. He closed his eyes a moment, seeming to center himself. When he opened them, Kor was back in his line of sight.
Kirk whispered, “What do you want from me?”
Kor quirked a lip. “That is a loaded question, with many possibilities.” Kor leaned down, both hands gripping the chair back; with his face mere centimeters from the blue, icy glare that never wavered.
Kor’s eyes settled on the pink lips again, and smiled. “I shall find some use for you.”
Kirk let out a frustrated growl; his hands testing the restraints at his wrists. Kor straightened, still smiling.
“In the mean time, you can either impart information - “
“Like fuck I will!”
“ - Or I can use the mind-sifter.” The Klingon’s eye’s danced. “Have you heard of the sifter, Captain?”
Kirk remained silent; his legs anxious to move as he watched the Klingon pace again.
“It is a mind-ripper - depending on how much force is used.” Kor’s glee was evident. “It records every thought, every bit of knowledge - every piece of information.” He stopped behind Kirk’s chair. “The mind is emptied. Permanently. What's left is more vegetable than human.” Kor leaned down, and whispered in the reddening ear, “However, with your soul-less Vulcan, perhaps there won’t be much difference.”
“You sonuvabitch!” Kirk thrashed in his chair. “Don’t you dare - “
“Whose to say I haven’t?”
Kirk stopped, breathing heavy, and stared at the floor. His eyes seemed to search the carpeting, as if he could intuit the answer. After a moment, he jerked his head up and glared. “You haven’t. You wouldn’t. You fucking liar - “
Kor yanked the chair back, angling it on the back legs; his face so close to the angry human. “You are so sure, Captain; so sure.” His face searched the pale one beneath; his lips so close to the alien features. “We shall see, James. We shall see.”
Kor let the chair drop forward, and he stared at the back of the blonde head. “I will have your obedience, Captain.”
“Fuck you.”
“You will obey me.” He stood in front of Kirk, and leaned in once again. “Or your Vulcan will - “
Kirk spat, and the responding smack reverberated in the room. The chair leaned sideways, and Kor fisted the blonde hair, dragging the body towards him; his hand raised again.
The Klingon’s grin was bright and menacing, as spit slid down his cheek, and onto Kirk’s forehead. “I will enjoy breaking you, James.“
“How do you know my - “
But both of them looked sideways, as a commotion entered the room.
“Kor, we found - “
Krako skidded to a halt in front of them, his eyes widening as he looked back and forth.
“What are you - “
“It is none of your concern.”
“Are you - “
“It is none of your concern.” Kor released the head, and lowered his hand; giving one last glance to the surprised human, who was staring at the Iotian’s arms. “Why do you intrude?”
Krako stuttered. “We - we found these!”
Kor looked at Krako’s bounty, and picked up the communicator. He walked towards a source of light, and tilted it in the glow; watching as the buttons glinted.
Krako’s pride bubbled over. “Okmyx is a goner, and his gang’s pinched and scattered. We took his office and turned them out.”
Kor smiled. “Excellent.” He walked towards Krako again, and picked up the other instruments in turn; favoring the phaser, especially.
Kirk watched the entire exchange; his eyes counting the items as Kor inspected them. His brow furrowed a moment, but quickly regained its composure. Kor didn’t seem to remember his presence until the Klingon beckoned a soldier forward, and gave him the equipment.
“Take these to my room.” Kor turned his head, showing a vicious grin. “The human, too.”
Kirk braced himself to be beamed aboard somewhere, but found his chair being dragged backwards, instead. The legs caught on carpeting and floorboards, but the Klingons seemed amused at how it bounced him. Kirk knocked against the doorframe, as he eavesdropped on distancing conversation.
“Take me back to your office. I will speak with this Harner.”
Kirk’s chair crashed against a hallway wall, banging his legs. He gritted his teeth as he heard the guards start up a flight of stairs.
***
When Scotty walked on to the bridge, he was met with some applause. Uhura smiled as he waved it off, and Sulu grinned.
“The bridge is yours, Mister Scott.”
“Good man, good man - any trouble?”
Sulu’s grin faltered. “The Captain and Mister Spock are overdue for their check in.”
Scotty shook his head. “I know how this goes. Lads can’t keep their communicators fer the life of ‘em!”
“They’re overdue thirty minutes.”
Scotty sighed. “Thirty minutes too long.”
Uhura turned from her station. “I can put out a radio hail to Bela Okmyx? It’s how we established contact, in the first place.”
Scotty nodded. “That seems ta be the way ta do it. If ye would, Lieutenant.”
Uhura turned back to her station, only to frown at her communications board.
“Mister Scott… we are receiving a hail.”
Scotty turned around, sharing a confused moment with Uhura before he nodded.
“Put ‘em on.”
There was a sound of shuffling, and hushed tones, before: “This here’s Krako. You gonna listen to me, and you gonna listen good.”
Scotty thumped back in the command chair, his surprise evident. “I’m listenin’?”
“I’ve got your Captain here, all tied up and sittin’ pretty; but he’s gonna be changin’ colors if I don’t get me some heaters - get what I’m sayin’?”
Scotty sighed, already halfway out of the chair. “I get ta picture, Mister... Krako, ye say yer name was?”
“JoJo Krako.”
“Right, Mister Krako.” Scotty was at the console, already pushing buttons. “Ye’d like ta meet with me?”
“I’ll bring my best boys for the exchange.”
Scotty shook his head. “I don’t think so, Krako Sir.”
The familiar hum was heard over the comm. line, and Sulu gawked.
“That shouldn’t work twice!”
Chekov shrugged.
Scotty pressed another button. “Scott ta Giotto.”
“Giotto here.”
“Don’t be surprised, but yer gonna find another visitor in yer brig.”
A beat; then, “... Yes, Sir?”
“I’ll be down there in five. Scott out.”
Scotty looked at Sulu. “The bridge is yers, lad.” He walked to the turbolift, and then paused. “Uhura, if ye’d still contact Okmyx, and put him through ta me quarters - I got ta be gettin’ Keenser.”
Uhura nodded, not turning to the console at her station. Then before the turbolift doors closed, she swiftly got up and followed after, looking determined as she faced the other occupant; which was Scotty examining his shoes.
Sulu sighed loudly, shaking his head at the closed turbolift doors. He then walked slowly to the Captain’s chair, and plopped down; his fingers smoothing the armrests. “Home, sweet home.”
Chekov didn’t look away from his console. “It is comfy chair, no?”
“I’m not complaining. But between those two always leaving the bridge, and the Captain and Mister Spock always doing missions together, I might have this chair molded to my ass.”
“It is sviwel chair, you can spin?”
Sulu laughed. “Not that bored, yet. Besides, the Captain might have me beat - for all I know, the screws are loosened, and I’d topple over.”
Chekov smirked. “And hit your noggin, yes? Might be good for you.”
“Thanks, Pasha.”
“Especially vith your eye sense.”
Another sigh. “Not this again - ”
“You losing bet,” Chekov sing-songed.
Sulu rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”
“You can’t see vith your two eyes.” Chekov nodded at his console. “Zem two? In love.”
“You think everyone’s in love.”
“Zem two, zey don’t know it - dance ‘round each other, yes?”
“I think they’re just friends.”
Chekov spun around. “Ve are friends. Zey two?” He curled his fingers. “Are ‘friends’.”
“... Did you seriously just air quote?”
“I have point!”
“What ‘point’?”
Chekov gaped. “Not fair, you do it!”
Sulu put down his hands. “I’m just saying, Pasha, I think you’re misinterpreting things.”
“Zey alvays off together, no? Looking at each other, no? Standing too close - “
Sulu chuckled, and shook his head in disbelief. “Dude, that describes us. And no offense, but I’m not in love with you.”
“Heh. I have girl. You have - ” and Chekov made a quick jerking motion with his hand.
Sulu heard some snickering behind him, and he rolled his eyes. “Nice, man.”
“Just truth. I have sense of zhese zings.”
“Pasha, I might hate you.”
“You do not. I have Lego.”
Sulu wordlessly gestured a moment, then - “Dude, I helped you with that battleship! You’re not going to hold out on me now, are you?”
“I helped design - but you are mean.”
“I’m not mean!”
“Yes, you are mean.” Chekov sniffed, as he turned back to his console. “I do not play vith zhose who are mean.”
Sulu bent over, pressing his palms to his eyelids.
“... I’m sorry.”
“Vat is zat? I zought I heard woice. Must be mistaken.”
“You are such a little bitch.”
“Must be ‘magination. I hear zings.”
“That explains a lot.”
“I had friend here, must be in brig.”
“I’m sorry! Goddammit.”
Chekov smiled at his comm. display. “It is okay, Hikaru. Ve all make mistakes.”
Sulu thumped back in the chair, and murmured, “You are such a drama queen.”
Chekov hummed happily at his station.
***
Kirk opened his eyes lazily; his focus struggling to find itself in the room. It was dark, with a blue glow that seemed to come from an open window. Sigma Iotia II had one moon, and it appeared to be shining brightly tonight. A beam of moonlight hit a quilted bed comforter, and Kirk followed the seams with his eyes until he blinked rapidly, and sat up straight - as much as he was able to.
He pulled at his wrists, and tried to move his ankles - nothing. He was still tied to the chair, with the ropes digging into his skin. Kirk looked down at his chest, to see the ribbed cotton of his wife beater, and the buttons undone of his white dress shirt. He sighed. He hadn’t done any of that. But who did was a mystery, as it appeared he was completely alone in the room.
There was no distant thrumming of music, and the world seemed strangely quiet. He twisted his head to look about the place, and analyzed everything he could see. There was a small wooden table near him, with two chairs. There was a dresser with a mirror. But more importantly, on top of that dresser there were three communicators, and at least a tricorder, lying on top of a white doily. A phaser was caught precariously in the laced edge, hanging off a wooden corner. Kirk looked at it with longing.
But all in all, it was incredibly cramped. The space Kirk occupied was in front of the door, next to the side of the bed. It was maybe the most spacious area in the entire room; the pathways around furniture looking like a snug fit. Kirk shook his head; but then looked down at himself, and - minutely - started rocking the chair back and forth.
He grimaced at the creaking the chair made, but the momentum got him rolled to his feet. It was certainly an awkward position, but he was able to lift his head, and look about. He looked over at the window, and then started to shuffle slowly forward.
He was past the table and chairs when he heard the door open, and a light was turned on.
Someone cleared their throat, then: “My, the captain fancies himself a snail.”
Kirk bit his lip.
“You wouldn’t leave before we had a late dinner, would you? These Iotians insist on feeding you.”
Kirk’s neck whip-lashed as the chair was pulled backwards; dragged on its back legs to the open space, and dropped forward. Kirk’s teeth clicked, and he glared at the Klingon who came into view. Kor stood in front of him; a lascivious smile matching the dark eyes that traveled from his face, down to look pointedly at the buttons on Kirk’s shirt.
“I hope you will forgive me James, for searching you earlier. I needed to make certain you had no hidden weapons… besides the communicator strapped to your lower back.”
Kirk gulped.
There was a knock on the door, and Kor turned to answer it. The wooden edge tapped the back frame of the chair with a kuh, as items and orders were exchanged in the available space. When the door swung closed, Kor came into view carrying a rectangular tray.
The Klingon minutely nodded. “I would have them serve us, but as you can see, we’re in intimate circumstances.”
Kirk watched as Kor carried the tray to the table; having to walk sideways to maneuver next to the bed.
“Why are you in such a small space?”
Kor lifted the lids off their plates, and shrugged. “It is no matter of importance.”
Kirk narrowed his eyes. “You’re a commander. Wouldn’t you want a bigger room?”
Kor set the food out, and then discarded the lids and tray to the bed. “In your Starfleet, perhaps you need loftier conditions. It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable... in that manner.”
Kirk rolled his eyes. “Right. Warriors and shit liked to be tied to chairs, and left alone in rooms instead.”
Kor quirked a smile, as he moved to sit down. “Warriors would not be caught tied to a chair, in the first place.”
“Like I had much - “ and he was caught off guard, as Kor wedged his hands between Kirk’s knees to grip the seat edge, and dragged him forward to the table. Kirk took a shaky breath as he looked up, and saw Kor look nonchalantly at the dinner plates.
Kirk held his breath a moment. The smells were pungent.
Kor sniffed. “They eat no meat on this planet. No wonder they are spineless.”
Kirk’s eyebrows went to his hairline. “Have you met them?”
Kor smirked. “Their weaponry makes no difference to me.”
Kirk shook his head, and looked down at his own plate. Unlike the Klingon’s, which seemed to have a tangle of slimy roots in a sauce, Kirk’s was a creamy red soup.
It didn’t look entirely alien, and Kirk sniffed it with a pleasant expression. His stomach growled.
Kirk looked pointedly at his set of silverware. “So, do warriors get spoon fed, or what?”
Kor looked sideways at him. “I was under the impression that’s how baby captains ate.”
“Well, believe it or not - “ and Kirk tested his restraints, “I did master a spoon and fork before I took Captaincy. If you untie me, I can show you my impressive skills.”
Kor barked a laugh. “You are an amusing human.” He looked at the silverware near Kirk’s bowl, and picked up the sharper implements from a napkin. Tucking them near his own plate, he then got up. “I will untie your hands. You will be severely punished if you abuse this gift I’m giving you.”
Kirk made a face at that, but then composed himself when Kor sat back down. “Then I’ll just have to resist my temptation to gouge out your eyes with a spoon.”
“Such dirty talk, James - at dinner? It is impolite.”
“I see you’re all about manners, Kor.” Kirk looked over at the Klingon, who was picking up the roots with his fingers.
Kor grunted. “I like to use my hands.”
“Oh, so do I!” Kirk clapped his hands together. “We have so much in common.”
Kor took a long drink from a glass, and swilled the contents. “Then perhaps you should use them, instead of your mouth.”
Kirk looked down, and hummed merrily as he ticked a finger at his plate; then located silverware with his right hand. With some hesitation, he ladled the thick soup onto a spoon, and - after a deep breath - put it in his mouth.
Kirk wore a surprised expression.
Kor noticed. “It is up to your standards?”
Kirk swallowed. “It tastes like strawberries.” He took another bite. “It’s a bit sweet, but misleading.”
“How so?”
“On Earth, this would be tomato soup. But this isn’t bad at all.” Kirk savored another taste, keeping the spoon in his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Kor watching him. After a pause, Kirk gave a pleased hum, then turned the spoon over in his mouth; licking the underside with the broad surface of his tongue. The rounded edge caught between his lips, and he let the tip slide out slowly. “Delicious.”
Kor took a deep breath. “Warriors... do not eat sweets.”
“You got me on that one. Here I am, stuck on this planet, being held captive, and I dare to eat this wimpy-ass soup.’ Kirk smiled as the Klingon watched another spoonful approach his lips. “I guess I’m dying without honor.”
“Humans as a species are too weak for honor.”
Kirk pointed the rounded edge. “How encouraging. You should give motivational speeches.”
“Honor is motivation enough, Captain.”
“Gee, maybe I should just gouge my own eyes out.”
As Kirk tilted the spoon towards his face, Kor gripped his wrist.
“Humans... make excellent slaves, however.”
They stared at each other; the grip tightening excruciatingly with each passing moment. When Kirk bit his lip, his hand flopped to the table.
“Is... is that so?” Kirk rotated his wrist. “On Earth, we would say those who employ slaves have no decency.”
Kor licked a fingertip. “Then it is just as well that this is not Earth.”
Kirk kept the spoon on the edge of his lips, seemingly lost in thought. When he dipped the spoon down again, a loud crash reverberated from the bottom floor, vibrating beneath them.
Gunfire was heard as guards stormed the room. “Commander, we are under attack.”
“By whom?”
“Unknown.”
Kor dismissed them with a hand. “Employ our phasers.”
“Yes, sir!”
When the guards left the room, another crash and boom were heard, and Kor huffed.
“I must leave you for a moment, James. Please enjoy your sweets.” The Klingon got up swiftly, his hand only pausing on the back of Kirk’s neck to grip lightly. “You will be here when I return.”
Kirk watched Kor exit, then looked down at his spoon. Turning his head towards the dresser, he heard another crash.
And then he heard glass breaking behind him.
He couldn’t twist his head far enough, so he pushed himself from the table. Kirk managed to push too far, as the chair back fell and angled with the side of the bed. Giving a frustrated sigh, he stretched his arms back to push himself off the mattress - only to have momentum punch himself in the gut with the table’s edge.
Kirk was trying to bend himself in half to get at his restraints, when he heard scuffling and a familiar nasally cadence behind him.
“Seems our Captain’s got himself in a pickle.”
Kirk groaned in relief as a knife cut the restraints around his waist, and then those at his thighs and ankles. Kirk wobbled as he stood up, banging his knee on the table’s edge.
Okmyx looked about the room. “What ya doin’ in this place?”
“Apparently, having dinner.” Kirk staggered over to the dresser, picking up the communicators and tricorder. When he couldn’t untangle the phaser, he scooped up the doily and tried to take it with him - only for the mirror to slip and crash to the ground.
“Fuck!” Kirk muttered, charging for the open window. He motioned Okmyx first as he tied the doily at the edges, making a sack he could grip at the knot. After a minute, Kirk climbed out the window himself; to the beat of charging footsteps near the bedroom door.
“Slide, Captain!”
The angle of the ladder was such that Kirk attempted it; gripping the edges in a deep friction burn, yet stopping as he neared the bottom.
It wasn’t perfect, but when he fell to the right he wasn’t far off the ground.
Okmyx grabbed his arm. “This way!”
Kirk tugged it back. “Where’s Spock?”
“We couldn’t find him - hurry!”
“I’m not leaving until - “
And then Kirk tilted his head to the left; pausing a moment to look at the brick corner of the club. As if hearing something, he jogged towards it; only to run into a familiar face.
A disheveled Spock panted; the cerulean bruise swallowing his cheek in the darkness. “Usually - you do not - have this much fanfare, Captain.”
“Fuck.” Kirk let out a breath, and gripped both of Spock’s upper arms tightly. His hand reached up towards the Vulcan’s face, but the sound of firecrackers made them jump. Kirk tugged, and dragged Spock by the arm towards an awaiting black motorcar.
Okmyx barked at them, “Get in, get in!”
Kirk pushed Spock inside, where they found themselves wedged next to Okmyx. The tires squealed, and the car sped off.
Spock turned his head, and said calmly, “You are injured, Captain.”
Kirk shook his head at him, disbelievingly. “I think I’ll live, Spock.”
But Spock twisted to look out the back window; and after a long moment, Kirk turned to do the same. In the road behind them, Kirk could see suited figures; some retreating to their own cars, and some in pursuit. Before they turned out of sight, Kirk saw a man cower before a Klingon, and get smacked in the face with a pistol.
What was notable, was the look of utter shock as the man touched his jaw - and then ran away.
***
Krako had not lied about the Okmyx gang being scattered and ransacked. When they got to the boss’s office, the hallway had every door open; a breeze from open windows scattering papers over broken pottery, and planters turned on their sides. The ornate doors were wide open, showing the billiards table slashed on the green, and pedestals with statues thrown to the ground. The only thing left untouched was the tome of American Gangster History, unopened.
Kirk caught Spock’s eye, and tilted his head towards it. “Some things are sacred.”
“Indeed.”
They picked their way through the mess, as Okmyx leaned on his pool table and gave a frustrated sigh.
“Krako ain’t got no respect.” Okmyx pounded his fist on the frame. “No boss deserves this!”
Kirk and Spock exchanged a look.
“It’s one thing for a boss to be overthrown - but another to be turned out!” Okmyx looked about; seemingly ready to tear into anything. “If I had me some heaters, none of this would’ve happened! Put the fear of the boss into them!”
Before Kirk could open his mouth, Okmyx waved a hand. “I talked to your Scott; he’s made it crystal clear. But with them folk at the club, I know I ain’t got nothin’.”
Kirk approached the table slowly, leaning on the frame next to Okmyx. “You got us out, Bela. We are immensely grateful.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Okmyx muttered. “Your Scott asked me. He’s balled up people, but he’s good. He’s a good man. Got me to my daughter before - ” hands gestured around them, “this got to her.”
Kirk nodded. “The Enterprise is concerned about the turmoil down here.”
“That’s nice.”
“We’d like to help.”
Okmyx huffed a laugh. “If ya ain’t gettin’ me heaters, I don’t know what ya can do.”
Spock stepped forward. “We would like to take part in the rescue of your mayor.”
Okmyx eyed them both. “You would, would ya? What ya plan on doin’?”
Kirk and Spock shared a glance, before Kirk cleared his throat. “We’re not… entirely sure yet.”
“Huh!” Okmyx walked towards his desk. “I’ll take your help, Captain, but we can’t have ya millin’ about without some plan.”
“We will procure one in the night.” Spock followed Okmyx. “We wish to ascertain Mayor Harner’s location before we attempt a rescue.”
“I overheard something about him being at that warehouse.” Kirk stood next to Spock on the opposite side of the desk. “Kor wanted to talk to him, and Krako seemed to suggest they had him there.”
Okmyx nodded. “I’ll send my boys out to investigate.”
“Krako’s probably regrouped there now, though. After what happened at the club, they’re probably nursing their wounds.”
Okmyx looked down at his chair - the leather also slashed, with the lining turned out - and opted to lean on his arms, gripping the edge of the desk. He closed his eyes a moment, sighed, and then opened them again.
“You fellas come up with a plan. I’ll talk to my boys. I say we hit ‘em tomorrow night, for good.”
“The Captain and myself can perform reconnaissance in the interim.”
Okmyx nodded. “Tonight, I’ll get my boys to set ya up in some rooms. Make yourselves at home.” He looked about his desk. “I’ll try to sort this out and plan myself.”
“We’ll come up with something.” Kirk turned to Spock. “We should probably contact the Enterprise; since we’ve got our communicators back.”
“Captain, that may not be a good idea. If the Klingons are orbiting the planet, they could pick up the signature of our transmission, and discover our location. This is not ideal if we wish to remain hidden.”
“Like they don’t figure we’re at Okmyx’s, anyway. But we could find a radio station?”
“I got one on the next floor, Captain."
Kirk narrowed his eyes at Okmyx. “Why do you have a radio station?”
Okmyx waved a hand. “We chatter like that; on a special frequency.”
Spock minutely shook his head. “If we use your facilities, that would also reveal our whereabouts.”
Kirk nodded. “I guess we find somewhere else in the morning. I need to know what’s going on up there.”
“Your boys seemed to have a handle on things.” Okmyx smiled. “And that dame, too - Uhura.” He cut an imaginary line near his hip. “What a looker.”
Kirk patted Spock’s arm. “I’m sure they’re okay. But like you Bela, I just need to keep track of... my guys.”
Okmyx nodded, then looked pointedly at Kirk’s hands. “I’ll get ya some stuff for your palms, too. And your guy’s face, there.” Okmyx squinted at Spock’s cheek. “Ain’t seen green like that, before. I’m sorry we couldn’t get to ya faster.”
Kirk shook his head. “We got out. That’s fast enough. Another second with Kor, and I think I would’ve lost it.” Kirk ignored the Vulcan Death Glare, as he looked up at the suits entering the room.
Okmyx shifted some papers on his desk. “Let my boys know if ya need anything.”
“Thank you, Bela.”
Okmyx nodded at them, and waved at his guards. Kirk and Spock followed them to separate bedrooms; but wound up planning on the bedspread in the Captain’s room during most of the night.
It was in the wee hours of the morning, as Spock wrapped Kirk’s hands with salve for the third time, that Kirk finally asked him outright: “Did they use the mind-sifter on you?”
Spock made sure the bandage was in place, before he answered, “No, they did not.”
Kirk took a deep breath as he reached for an ice pack, and placed it gently against Spock’s cheek. “Good. Your mind doesn’t belong to them.”
When Spock’s fingertips grazed the human hand, in order to hold the pack on his own, it was only then that Kirk got up, and resumed his thoughtful pacing
***
“No, I take it back: He’s a damn fool.” McCoy crossed his arms; his face purely disgruntled and vexed, with a PADD tucked at his bicep.
Uhura sipped her coffee, and watched the exchange impassively.
It was almost the same as before. Through the observation window, they could both see Scotty still sitting backwards on a chair; a sack of sandwiches near his feet. Keenser was also there, still watching intently; with beady eyes surveying the scene like a tennis match. And there was even a gangster, who still looked to be about going out of his mind - although this one was mostly bald, and had a murderous glare instead of expressing honest perplexity.
McCoy shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m allowin’ this.”
Uhura gave him a sideways glance. “Because it somehow worked the first time. And you’re worried about those two just as much as I am.”
“Jim’s a damn fool, too. Something’s got to have happened. Spock knows where that radio station is.”
“I agree. But considering our bad guy here had their communicator, he might be our best bet.”
“And Scotty’s going to get it out of him.” McCoy looked up at the ceiling. “God help us all.”
Uhura touched the crook of his arm, and he looked back down at her, giving a wry smile. She tried to smile back. “They’ll be okay.”
McCoy huffed. “They better be, or I’ll kill ‘em.”
She nodded at that; then mindlessly sipped her coffee again as they watched the exchange taking place.
Scotty gesticulated wildly.
“Aye, so - we was on this ice planet, right, fer a whole year. And them’s thought they’d be leavin’ these tribbles, jist lollin’ about - some joke a lad ‘ad on us, as they kept on comin’, like bloody rabbits; eatin’ everythin’ we got - “
Keenser watched closely as Scotty paused to eat the remainder of his sandwich, and brushed the crumbs off his lap. “So I was thinkin’, as I put Keenser in this snowman one day - he’s aboot the right ‘eight, jist a thing ta do - and the way his face, all stickin’ up like that, as he tried ta get out - it gives me this idea about beamin’ a tribble - “
Krako snorted. “What the hell do I care about your - “
“- Inta the middle of ‘em; and sees how long it takes fer ‘em ta dig out. It took Keenser a good five minutes; so I was thinkin’ a tribble would take -“
“I don’t even know what a - what a twaddle is, pal -“
“ - Maybe twice as long, as they’re jist wee fuzzy beasties, and they got na legs. But they jist huddle in there, not movin’, not e’en multiplyin’ themselves out - “
Krako shook his head, and wordlessly gestured; but Scotty leaned forward.
“So I was thinkin’, maybe they need incen’ive, aye? They’d been fancyin’ these beans - which Keenser got all ragin’ about - but I started throwin’ ‘em at the top, and,” Scotty laughed, “ye should’ve seen them tribbles, two at a go, chasin’ after one bean - beatin’ Keenser’s time by half - “
Keenser crossed his arms, and humphed.
***
Kirk and Spock woke early the following morning; grateful for the hot shower and the few hours of rest. Okmyx had been good on his word in making them feel comfortable, as they were able to come and go from their rooms as they pleased; with the only guards being at the end of their long hallway for security’s sake. Kirk and Spock passed them in greeting as they left; where in exchange they were instructed on where to find the kitchens. This was fortuitous for them, as it had been a while since that interrupted dinner on the Enterprise. Spock had four slices of toast with a sour jam, while Kirk tried a sort of pastry with his coffee. They ate quickly, wanting to get a start on the day ahead.
“I wish we hadn’t left our jackets at the club,” Kirk said, as they now traversed the back alleys away from headquarters; taking a path that Kalos had drawn out on a notepad at breakfast. “We had that other set of communicators and phasers in them, but hell - I’m cold, and I still somehow stink.”
“We did not expect to be marooned on the planet.” Spock led the way, as he knew the building they were looking for on sight. “Perhaps Bela Okmyx will allow us use of his facilities to wash our items.”
“We could’ve this morning - but we really didn’t have the time.” Kirk rolled down his cuffed shirtsleeves. “We just need to send a message to Sulu, and then find that warehouse garage and set up surveillance.” Kirk tilted his head to the side, and smiled. “Hopefully I don’t offend your Vulcan sensibilities too much.”
Spock didn’t meet his eyes. “We are in peculiar circumstances.”
Kirk laughed. “Ouch! I know what that means.”
“I meant nothing other than - “
“It’s not fair, you know, Vulcans barely sweat - “ Kirk’s eyes widened. “Hey, I bet you’re colder than I am!”
Spock still avoided his gaze. “I have regulated my body temperature to - “
“Right, it’s near 15 centigrade; don’t give me that crap.” Kirk looked behind them. “Maybe we can ask Bela to - “
“What is your fondness for insisting on things which I deem to not be necessary; especially at the risk of your own - “
“Because I’m difficult.” Kirk’s smile turned into a grin. “Admit it, it’s part of my charm.”
Spock quietly huffed. “I will admit to no such thing.”
They stopped behind a white brick building, and leaned against a wall. Kirk looked along the face of it, appearing to count the windows. “How did you get into this place, anyway?”
“We walked through the front entrance.” Spock turned away from it. “I suspect that might not work in our current circumstance.”
Kirk smirked. “You mean, they’ve started locking doors against sneaky Vulcans.”
Spock puzzled that a moment. “I do not believe she saw my - “
“Spock. Let’s just get in there.”
After they confirmed the back doors being locked, they picked a window near Spock’s estimation of the broadcasting room. Kirk climbed up on Spock’s back to peek inside. To their great fortune, the place appeared to be dark and vacant.
Kirk stepped off, leaning against the wall. “I think you closed shop, Spock.”
“Perhaps, but it is to our great advantage.”
Kirk motioned with a thumb. “I’ll sneak in and look around, if I can climb up again?”
Spock was already bending. “With the caveat that you will open the back door once you are inside.”
“Deal. Saddle up.”
Balancing precariously on the Vulcan’s back, Kirk managed to pry open a crack in the window; his fingertips wedging enough to gain leverage. It opened in unexpected smoothness, although just barely enough for Kirk’s small frame to edge through. The bottom of his un-tucked shirt rode up his back; exposing skin as most of his body slid inside, and onto a table.
“Captain?”
“Fine, Spock. Just fine.” Kirk balanced himself on his arms, as he carefully slid the remainder of his legs, and unhooked his ankles from the window ledge. He looked like a sprinter, crouched into position, as he tried to arrange his body in a way that wouldn’t land him flat on his face. He looked about the dim room, and spied the turntables on the opposite wall of a wooden door; which fortunately had a window. He needed to get to the latter, first.
Kirk crept off the table and kept down. There was another large table in his way, but fortunately the room was carpeted and decent on his knees. He inched slowly to the door, and then carefully stood up to peer out the observation window.
Where two teenagers - too tangled up in each other to notice Kirk - were headed straight towards him.
Kirk cursed under his breath, and dove for a navy blue tarp next to him; which appeared to be covering a table of old equipment. As he situated himself underneath, he heard the door open, along with footsteps and giggling.
The girl sighed, then: “Are you sure?”
A pleasant hum; then the boy said, “More than sure. They closed the place after Sue was attacked.”
“Poor - “ she gasped, “Sue. I hope she’s okay.”
“Not as okay as me.”
There was some more giggling, and bumping of furniture, and Kirk rolled his eyes. He looked next to him and felt the wall, and eased himself into a sitting position; careful not to jostle anything. He pulled his knees up to fit, and heard a soft moan. He covered his eyes with one hand, and bit his lip.
“Oh, Alex - your dad keeps me so damn busy, I never get to see you.”
“Daddy can’t help it Bodie, he’s been busy, too. We been helpin’ those Starfleet.”
“I know, I know - but I never get to see you.” There was a wet smack of lips. “I miss you, honey.”
“Oh, I miss you! I wish we didn’t have so much going on.”
“If wishes were horses,” and Kirk heard the sound of buttons popping, and items dropping to the floor. Kirk grimaced.
He rubbed the skin behind his ears, looking on either side of him. He was in a long line of tables, with a box a meter away from him. There had been a table in the middle of the room, and the couple didn’t sound too close. Getting on his knees again, he lifted the bottom of the tarp, and hazarded a look.
“Your dad be sendin’ me out too much.”
They were near the turntables, with the both of them leaning against the counter’s edge; wrapped around each other. The front of her blue dress had been undone, partially exposing a black brassiere, while a matching blue handbag laid at her feet; the items scattered far and near. Kirk glanced up to their faces, and confirmed what he suspected; with the brunette, bobbed hair, and the young kid still wearing red.
One of Bodie’s hands was tangled in her dark hair; his eyes trailing down to the front of her dress. He wore a mournful expression, as if he were memorizing every bit of this moment.
But Alex shook her head and pleaded, “He needs you. Your one of his - “
“He’s gotta know, Alex. There ain’t no way.“
“But I ain’t say nothin’! I don’t even smile at you when he’s around. How could he - “
“He does, Alex. He just does.” Bodie sighed ruefully. “And he don’t want his daughter being no moll - he don’t want his daughter datin’ me.”
His fingers trailed from her hair down to her neck; a thumb caressing the jaw-line, to rest on her lower lip. He tilted her chin, and bent his head; their lips meeting in a soft, chaste kiss.
Alex sniffed, and whispered fiercely, “I don’t care what he says - we love each other!”
Bodie swallowed. “Your dad don’t like it, and what he says - “
“Then we’ll get out!”
Kirk narrowed his eyes, as Alex gripped Bodie fiercely; her expression determined.
“We can do it. You know we can.”
“Not without your dad’s - “
“Bodie!” She pushed him away, and he staggered back a few steps. “This is our chance. You know it’s our chance.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Not if your dad won’t allow it.”
She clenched her jaw, looking over at the open window. “Tomorrow - “
“Tomorrow ain’t nothin’, Sweetheart.”
She looked back at him; as if a bit startled. They both stared hard at each other, unflinching, until Alex bit her lip; fumbling with the buttons of her dress.
“Well,” and she took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do, then.”
Bodie watched as Alex bent to retrieve her purse. She avoided his gaze, as she looked around at the ground; and Bodie’s hands waved in exasperation. “Alex, honey, don’t be like that -”
She stomped around, quickly grabbing items from the floor, and shoving them into her bag. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”
“This! This, Alex. Today is the first time in a week we’ve gotten time together -”
“Because you’re supposed to be on some patrol, right? Watchin’ them Starfleet?” Alex huffed as she bent over, looking under the middle table. “You think if somethin’ gone happen to them, that more time won’t be - “
“Alex, come on - “
“I mean it, Bodie! We’d have more time if you - Oh, where’d my lipstick run off to?”
“What?”
“My lipstick!” She put her hands on her hips; closing her eyes as tears of frustration threatened to spill over. “My new one. I just bought it with Christine yesterday!”
Bodie looked at her, in a daze; then to the ground. “Lipstick? Why does it even - ”
And Kirk saw it before he could even think it. Lowering the tarp, he saw the tube under the very edge; lying just on his side of shadows, angled at the border. No doubt the bottom of the tube was visible from the other side, yet most laid next to his pinkie finger.
“Oh! It’s there!”
Kirk remained still, as a hand swept under the tarp to grab it. A whisper of touch had graced his knuckle; but it was enough that Kirk knew her skin was very, very soft.
Kirk held his breath. The hand had darted out quickly, but now there was silence. He bit his lip, and -
The tarp was ripped open, and a pistol barrel was pointed at his face.
“Get out! Get out from under there! Show yourself!”
Kirk crawled out slowly, stumbling to stand up, and almost collided with Alex. He held up his hands.
“Look, I’m sorry, but - “
Bodie shoved the gun at him. “What are you doin’ here?”
Kirk looked over at the turntables. “I came to use the radio. I had no idea - “
“Were you spyin’ on us?”
Kirk clenched his jaw. Bodie had a protective arm around Alex, and she was staring at Kirk, wide-eyed.
Kirk shook his head slowly. “No. Not at all.” Kirk looked pointedly at the weapon, but Bodie didn’t drop it. “I just - I looked through the door window, to see if I could go into the hallway, and saw you guys coming. I hid because I had no idea who you were.”
Alex let out a breath. “Why didn’t you say anythin’ when you did?”
Kirk bit his cheek. “It was - uh - kind of too late. I only realized who you both were a minute ago.”
Bodie and Alex shared a long look. After a moment she nodded, and Bodie lowered his gun.
Kirk slowly put down his hands. “I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t have - “
“You won’t tell the boss, will you?” Bodie glanced worriedly at Alex. “Since you heard - “
Kirk quickly shook his head. “No! No no no. It’s none of my business!” He looked between the two teenagers, who were still tense. “Really! I mean, part of it I didn’t even get. But as you guys said, there are a lot of problems right now. I just really want to get in touch with my ship, and try to rescue Harner. I don’t actually care what - “ and Kirk motioned between the two of them, “you guys have going on. I mean,” and Kirk took a deep breath, “I didn’t even see anything. Honest.”
Bodie looked over the features of his face; as if evaluating what he saw there. After a minute he nodded, his shoulders relaxing, as he loosened his grip on the young brunette.
Bodie motioned to the turntables. “So, you... need the radio?”
Kirk nodded. He looked over at the turntables himself, before pausing in realization. Going wide-eyed, he whipped his head to look at them. “Actually - I’m supposed to unlock the back entrance! To get Spock in here, first.” He started towards the door. “You mind - ?”
Bodie shook his head rapidly. “Oh - no! We’re just leaving, actually.” And before Kirk could get there himself, Bodie jerked Alex’s hand and dragged her towards the door; where they both practically ran out, and down the hall.
It was only after a minute of staring dumbly at their exit, that Kirk sighed loudly.
A deep voice concurred. “That was an illuminating conversation.”
Kirk turned around; and a smile slowly spread on his anxious face. He walked with his head tilted towards the open window; where he climbed up onto the table to peer over the ledge.
Spock was just underneath the windowsill, with his arms crossed. “It appears Doctor McCoy was correct.”
Kirk minutely shook his head in disbelief. “You were listening this entire time.”
“Indeed.”
Kirk laid one arm across the window frame, and balanced his head on the other. “In fact, you never went to those back doors. You don’t trust me, do you? You were listening to see if I’d come get you.”
“It is not a matter of trust.” Spock looked at his feet. “It is a matter of knowing your nature, and propensity for unfortunate happenstance.”
Kirk grinned. “Why, Mister Spock - that might be the fanciest way I’ve heard of saying I have bad luck.”
“On the contrary,” and Spock looked up pointedly, “the fact that I am standing here, as opposed to breaking and entering this facility in attempted rescue, proves the opposite.”
Kirk bit back a chuckle. “Touché.” He straightened his arms from the ledge. “But really, I’m going to go open the doors for real, this time.”
“I will meet you there.”
A minute passed, and neither of them moved.
“Spock, I’m pretty sure I’ll make it into the hallway just fine.”
Spock nodded. “I am certain you will.”
“That means you can go to the back doors, now.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason you wish for me to leave first?”
“Yeah - so you can meet me at the back doors.”
“Once I am certain that you have left the room, I shall go there.”
Kirk huffed. “You take your duties as first officer a bit too seriously, you know that?”
Spock considered it. “I will confess... it is only a part of my motivation.”
Kirk did chuckle that time, as he shook his head in amusement. Then he turned around to slowly slide off the table; where he proceeded to walk towards the door, and into the hall.
Part Four