I do not own Supernatural or Star Trek 2009.
This is the first multi-chapter story *takes a nervous deep breath* Suggestions are very welcome, particularly regarding story pacing and character interaction (although the plot's pretty well mapped out).
Captain Dean Winchester was considering an alternative method of diplomatic conflict resolution.
Diplomats meet airlock. Airlock meets space.
Conflict resolution.
Unfortunately, his first officer frowned on that sort of thing (damn Sammy) and so he was being forced to seek out a less constructive conclusion.
This all began four days ago. Usually the Impala was assigned courier runs and scientific scans, not diplomacy. She was a smaller, older ship (a classic!) without the nice fancy unnecessary amenities for civilians that the newer ships offered.
Unfortunately she was also the only ship in the quadrant and the two warring factions of the planet nearby the planetoid system they happened to scanning decided to beg the Federation for mediation.
The Impala got tapped.
This was just further proof that Pike liked to torture him.
The Federation wanted this resolved because the area of land the natives were fighting over happened to be a rather sizable dilithum mine and the natives refused to trade with the Federation without determining who profited from the mine.
Damn Pike.
And now the T'bedi and Charians were glaring daggers at each other (literally, Dean was glad he'd thought to disarm them before throwing them into the conference room), Sam was getting nowhere fast with his reasonable, we-can-work-this-out method and Dean had a pounding headache.
"Sir, incoming transmission," Ash reported from where he was pulling double duty on navigation and communication.
"On screen," Dean grumbled.
"Having fun yet?" Pike asked cheerfully.
Dean bit his tongue hard because he liked being captain and he actually respected Admiral Pike most of the time but really, this was pushing the limits.
"Relax son," the admiral grinned, like he was a mind-reader or something. "I'm sending relief your way. They may not be able to stay but will donate a few personnel who should be able to help." Dean scowled and Pike shrugged. "Sorry Winchester. I can't get a negotiating team there until next week and by then the planet will be at war."
"Understood sir. And the assistance is appreciated." Pike nodded and the transmission cut.
Eight hours later, Dean was cursing Pike yet again.
"Well would you look at that, it's Captain Winchester!"
His gloating fellow captain and sometime friend would be of no help whatsoever if the evil grin was anything to judge by.
"Kirk, get off your ass and help us!"
"The great Captain Winchester, stymied by half a dozen diplomats. As I live and breathe!"
"Captain." The Enterprise's stoic first officer managed to instil myriad shades of disapproval into one word.
"Oh fine. Spock, you know how to ruin all the fun. Because we're awesome like that, Enterprise is on standby in the sector. Spock and Sam can run scientific scans to their hearts' content. Because I'm even more awesome like that, I'll help you with the diplomats."
"Thank you. Winchester out."
Enterprise
Kirk was still chuckling when the transmission ended. Winchester looked positively frazzled and frustrated. His small crew of misfit geniuses was definitely not geared towards diplomacy and as funny as the situation was, Kirk thought Starfleet should have just waited and assigned the Enterprise, saving the Impala the headache.
"Uhura, Spock, you're with me. Sulu, you have the conn. We'll be back in a bit." Uhura looked interested at the idea of studying the two factions' drastically different languages (unusual on a planet that small) and Spock as always fell into step immediately.
"Anything I need to know, Spock?"
"Certainly, Captain. Both the T'bedi and Charians respect visible demonstrations of authority and their civilization approximates Earth's Middle Ages. Their expertise with herbs is not to be underestimated and they are excellent healers."
"Fond of poisons as well, I imagine."
"Indeed. They will view Captain Winchester as subordinate to you because the Enterprise is larger."
"Oh that's going to go over well."
"I do not know if there is any way to spare Captain Winchester that particular discomfort, especially if the natives discover you are the flagship's captain."
Kirk winced. Winchester was strong-willed and independent like most captains but he and Kirk both had additional experience kicking, scratching and clawing to keep their unorthodox commands. Winchester was understandably a bit touchy about his status, given how many people had tried to remove him from his beloved ship or diminish its importance.
"I could mention this cultural assumption to Commander Winchester before we make contact with the T'bedi and Charians."
"You are a saint, Spock." The first officer looked puzzled and Kirk grinned. "It's a figure of speech. Talking to Commander Winchester would be great, thanks." He stepped up onto the transporter pad and nodded to Scotty.
"Say hello to Bobby if ye see him, will ye capt'n?" The younger engineer had taken a shine to the Impala's crusty, practical counterpart.
"Will do, Scotty."
Impala
They materialized in a swirl of lights. Commander Sam Winchester was waiting.
"Good morning Captain, Commander Spock, Lieutenant Uhura."
Kirk grinned. The more formal of the two brothers, Sam Winchester was a brilliant scientist capable of keeping up with both Uhura and Spock, which was no mean feat. He also kept his volatile, impulsive big brother from wildly burning all bridges every time Dean went on a tear. After having Dean Winchester in his sick bay for a mere two hours, Bones swore the younger brother should be canonized.
"Commander Winchester, pleasure as always. I assume the captain's in with the diplomats?"
Sam shrugged and led them up towards the conference room. "Actually, I think he's down talking to Lieutenant Commander Singer. Looking for advice, I believe. We've hit a very large brick wall. Lieutenant Uhura, perhaps you could help us out. There are some subtleties of the language I know I'm missing but can't quite figure out. It has something to do with cultural sub-layers."
Uhura looked even more interested and began pestering the tall officer for more details. With a grin, he held up a hand and passed over a PADD. "I've been recording the proceedings. You can watch and listen first hand. Dean's ready room is empty and you can take that for work space. I also got a copy of both sides' legal codices and their treaty in the original dialects."
For a minute there, Kirk was afraid Spock was going to lose his girlfriend to a well-prepared Winchester.
With Uhura comfortably settled, Sam led them deeper into the bowels of the Impala. Definitely not the Enterprise, the scratched but clean floors were lined with utilitarian lights, walls a uniform grey. The corridors twisted about the form of the ship more and the crew members seemed just that little bit rougher around the edges. This was a frontier ship. No carpet, no shiny silver. She rarely came into dock, she was always ready to go and the engineering section was a tangled mass of pipes, gauges and warp cores. Kirk was pretty sure that particular accelerant configuration wasn't exactly legal let alone Starfleet standard.
"Fascinating," Spock commented, noting the same component.
"I hear a Vulcan!" Winchester's rough voice shouted from somewhere behind the accelerant.
His spiky head popped up a second later, grease smeared along one cheek. "Hey Kirk, Spock. Got a minute? We're trying to calibrate the – ow!" A calloused hand slapped him upside the head.
"Idjit, you don't drag captains in clean uniforms down to play with the grease monkeys when they're here to fix your problem." With that, the brusque engineer sent his wayward captain out to meet Kirk.
"Bobby! Scotty says hey!" Kirk called into the tangled mess of machinery and a wrench waved acknowledgment.
Winchester was daubed with grease and there was skin scraped from his knuckles but he seemed to be in a far better mood. Sam was caught between relief that his brother no longer seethed like an impending volcano and chagrined at the mess in front of him.
Kirk grinned. "Dude, I'd totally help with calibration but I have it on good authority that my linguistic geek upstairs wants us to play with the natives so that she can watch us make idiots of ourselves."
The prospect of returning to the diplomatic table clearly did not endear itself to Winchester, but Kirk made a point of engaging in light talk on the way up as Winchester tried to clean up without needing a shower.
And a quick peek over his shoulder told Kirk that Spock was letting Sam know that things could get awkward. A short yelp of "What?" had Winchester spinning around to amble backwards and Kirk wincing.
"What's up Sam?"
Sam's mouth flapped like a fish for a minute and then he glanced helplessly at Kirk, who bravely manned up.
"Uhura says that both the T'bedi and Charians are going to turn into dicks once they hear I have a bigger ship than you. Big ship, small ship. Big captain, small captain."
Nothing like bald truth.
Winchester paused. "Are you gonna be a dick about it?"
Kirk sighed, picking his words carefully for once. He liked Dean. They were friends. He didn't want some idiot diplomats to mess that up. "Look, you got into a bar fight for me without even knowing what it was about. You're a damn good captain. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a captain, you're a captain, that's all there is. But we both know that the natives aren't going to see it that way."
Spock tipped his head to one side. "Captain, if I may?"
Kirk gestured expansively.
"I believe if we can convince the natives that Captain Winchester's ship is faster than the Enterprise, we may succeed in demonstrating that in advanced technology, size is often not a factor in determining value."
Kirk could have kissed his first officer.
"What he said!"
Winchester chuckled, the stiff expression on his face smoothing out. "Geez Kirk, my ego's not that fragile. I don't care what the natives think as long as you're not going to be an ass."
"I should be insulted," Kirk muttered. "I thought we understood each other after that night in the bar."
Sam laughed, a big round sound before patting the Enterprise's captain on the shoulder. "There, there. Dean's okay with it. Your relationship will survive."
Winchester shuddered. "All right, onward! This is veering far too close to chick flick territory!"
"Amen!" Kirk seconded and the two captains skittered down the hallway in a very dignified fashion.
Sam and Spock were left staring in amused exasperation.
"Chick flick? I am unfamiliar with this expression."
"Don't ask, Spock."
Enterprise
It was always quiet without the captain around. All sorts of things got done when the captain wasn't on the ship. Systems checks, crew physicals, scientific scans, reports written, cartography charts filled out – life was easier without the Enterprise's trouble magnet aboard.
Boring as all hell, but easier.
This known fact – life without Captain Kirk equals unparalleled monotony – was why Chekov was mildly curious when the communications ensign called him over to catch a transmission from Admiral Cartwright. To no small terror, he realized the admiral wanted to speak to the man in charge.
Teenager, in this case.
"Ser," Chekov greeted respectfully.
"Where is Captain Kirk?" the admiral demanded shortly.
"Ser, he is aboard de Impala vith Commander Spock, attempting to resolve de diplomatic conflict betveen de T'bedi and de Charians." Chekov was doing his best to not freak out over the idea of a teenaged ensign talking to an Admiral as the commander of the fleet's flagship.
Admirals never called when Sulu had the conn!
"Please communicate to Captains Kirk and Winchester" the two names puckered the admiral's lips in distaste "that a negotiations team of two will be arriving within a day via the Potemkin. All diplomatic efforts are to cease until then. Cartwright out."
Chekov managed to nod before the transmission cut and immediately had a small meltdown. He did not want to tell the captain that a team of Starfleet negotiators (negotiators being synonymous with useless) were going to invade either the Impala or the Enterprise. Chekov never liked carrying bad news, even if it wasn't of his own making.
He'd tell Commander Spock instead.
That was a better idea.
Impala
Sam paused as Spock's communicator chirped and he held a short conversation before flipping the device shut.
"Problems?" Sam asked politely.
"Admiral Cartwright has seen fit to assign a team of negotiators to this problem."
Only Sam's rigid sense of discipline kept him from slumping and groaning. "I don't suppose we're considered superfluous now?" he asked hopefully, feeling just a little bad at dumping the diplomatic issue onto the Enterprise.
Not that bad though. She was a bigger ship, built for this sort of thing.
"No," Spock mused. "I do not believe transferring negotiations to the Enterprise would be wise. It could inflate the natives' opinions of themselves and make them more obdurate."
Damn. Of course.
"But naturally, the captains' presences will no longer be required constantly," Spock stated and Sam appreciated the small gesture.
That still didn't fix the problem. Civilian negotiators would gripe over the Impala's bad coffee, sparse accommodations, ad nauseam. They would demand to be housed aboard the Enterprise, which tied up two ships unnecessarily. And this wasn't Admiral Pike anymore, so they couldn't finish up the negotiations and smile widely with an "Oops, would ya look at that!" when the negotiators arrived, shipping the annoyances directly back to Starfleet Command.
"This is not a pleasant situation," Spock commented, hoping to facilitate discussion.
"No," Sam muttered. "We need the captains for this problem."
Predictably, neither captain was impressed.
"The hell, Cartwright? Of course he gives the orders to the Enterprise and an ensign at that! Either one of us would have kicked up a huge stink!" Kirk fumed in the ready room as an out of the way Uhura muttered to herself over the PADD, a pair of headphones in.
They had just hashed out a workable plan regarding transportation between the two ships when the door chimed.
"Come!" Winchester called.
Stoic Lieutenant Castiel entered, looking grave. "Sir, one of the T'bedi representatives is dead. Security is on scene and Dr. Harvelle is initiating an autopsy."
Kirk closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose while Winchester sipped from his mug in a very controlled fashion before carefully elucidating a simple "Son of a bitch."
Then the red alert klaxons began to whoop. "Biohazard in the ventilation systems," broadcast over the intercom. "Initiating ship-wide lockdown."
Sam hit the door at a dead run, heading for the science station, closely followed by Winchester and Kirk. "What the hell is going on in my ship?" Winchester demanded of Commander Ash, who shrugged.
"Hell if I know sir. All I can tell you is that someone on this ship just used a very simple, very effective method of distributing poison through the ventilation shafts. I shut down the fans and locked out the vents but without circulation, we're going to run out of air real quick."
"Ellen, please tell me you have an antidote for whatever this is?" Winchester snapped over the comm.
"Damn it, no!" a gruff female voice retorted. "I just got my hands on a sample! All I can tell you is that it's going to kill everyone on this ship within the next five minutes and I definitely won't have the beginnings of an antidote by then!"
Kirk was already having a rapid-fire conversation over his communicator. "Winchester. We can pull everyone over to the Enterprise, beam the diplomats to the surface and then flush the Impala."
"Acknowledged. All crew, prepare for emergency transport to the Enterprise!"
"Scotty, I do not want any of those diplomats to sneak aboard my ship, understand?"
"Aye, capt'n! Stand by for mass transport!"
Enterprise
The hold was a very large, cavernous place that Captain Kirk did not often visit. "Shit Kirk, you expecting to pack a planet in here?" Winchester grumbled as his people milled about.
"Constitution class ship. Nothing like your little speedster," Kirk rejoined with a smirk, heading for the doors. The command officers fell into step. "Can I put your people to work?" Kirk asked. Winchester nodded and began barking orders.
"Report to your corresponding stations and make yourselves useful aboard the Enterprise! Ash, Harvelle, Sam with me!"
The core crews of both ships met in the largest conference room the Enterprise had. McCoy and Harvelle were already postulating vaccination theories, the science officers busy arguing dispersal methods with the engineers, but Uhura had the most information to offer.
"Captain, if I could address the room?" she asked. Kirk nodded, sinking into his chair.
"Attention!" Everyone's head swiveled to the front of the room. "Thank you." Uhura tapped her PADD patiently, waiting for everyone to sit. "Upon examination of the provided T'bedi and Charian treaty, I discovered a rather interesting clause. It states that when representatives are in neutral territory and negotiations have stalled, both sides have the right to engage in combat within said neutral territory, but only those six people from the quarreling factions will engage. Whoever wins claims the right to dictate terms of agreement. Unfortunately, whoever is hosting this negotiation becomes victim to their conflict."
Sam frowned. "How did I miss that?"
Uhura waved the PADD. "You didn't. But the verb conjecture is a little tricky and I think you came up with an alternative translation – " Kirk held up a hand.
"It was something only a specialized linguist would have caught."
"Actually sir, the truth is the only reason I caught it was because Commander Winchester had already gone through it and noted the anomalies. He laid the map, I just followed it. I'm sure you would have arrived at the correct conclusion."
Sam shrugged, not slighted in the least. "Science officer, not linguist."
Winchester leaned forward. "So what this means is that our friendly natives are well within their rights to try and kill each other off while they're onboard my ship?"
"I'm afraid so, sir. And the weapon of choice is a broad-spectrum poison," Uhura finished sympathetically
Winchester cursed, thumping a fist down on the table. "Never again. Next time Pike wants a diplomat, I am so recommending you lot. It's in your freaking job description, not mine!"
Dr. Harvelle caught the Impala captain's attention. "We think we have an antidote for this specific poison. And the science departments report that the Impala's atmosphere should be clean in about four hours."
"Great, so that'll work – "
"Until we beam them up again and they use a new poison," McCoy growled. "Then we'll be back at square one." He hated poisons. Sneaky, subtle and deadly, too much like his ex-wife's perfume.
"There's nothing else we can do until the negotiators arrive with the Potemkin tomorrow," Kirk concluded on that cheerful note. "We'll adjourn here. Come on Dean, I don't know about you but I could use a drink."
The captains did just that – sat themselves in the Enterprise's recreational room and commiserated over beers.
Singer drifted down to Engineering, where young engineering ensigns from both ships were snared into the time-honoured tradition of improving the legendary Engineering moonshine still.
Sick bay was avoided like the plague as two overworked, acerbic CMOs furiously sped through poisons, antidotes and other remedies just in case. It was a wise decision given their respective captains' penchant for worst case scenarios.
Sam, Spock and Uhura did their level best to puzzle out more planetary customs and when it became apparent that all three were suffering from varying degrees of circular thinking, were rescued by Ash, Sulu, Chekov and a reluctant Castiel.
Apparently Spock had never experienced karaoke.
Everyone else had fun.
The Vulcan still seemed a little shell-shocked the next morning.
The next morning, both captains found themselves in the transporter room. "How did our first officers skate out of this again?" Winchester grumbled.
"They're slippery bastards, that's what," Kirk rolled stiff shoulders. Negotiators always gave him a headache. "And the admiral didn't tell us who was coming. That's a bad sign."
Winchester scowled. "How many negotiators have you pissed off to date?"
Kirk chose not to answer that question as the Potemkin's engineer confirmed transport.
"Aw hell," Kirk hissed under his breath.
Two men – one tall and doleful, the other short and dumpy – downright glared at Kirk. "Captain," the tall one sniffed in a nasally voice.
"Dr. Adams," Kirk rejoined politely. "And Dr. Neus. Welcome back to the Enterprise." Winchester found himself under a very thorough visual scan and bristled.
"And this must be Captain Winchester," Dr. Adams added, acting as if there was a bad smell in the room. "Well, please direct us towards the involved parties."
"They're not aboard either ship, Dr. Adams," Kirk stated, his voice measured and calm. "The Charian representatives chose to murder at T'bedi diplomat last night and then they flooded the Impala with poison. I decided it was better to return the representatives to the surface of the planet to avoid endangering any more Starfleet lives."
Both negotiators drew themselves up stiffly. "What do you mean, poison? Kirk, what did you do to provoke them?" Dr. Neus demanded for the first time in a slippery basso. Kirk deliberately did not react to the inflammatory comment.
"According to a small clause in their already established treaty, they are allowed to instigate hostilities whenever they feel negotiations have stalled. They neglected to inform us of said clause's existence. The crew of the Impala lacks a linguist and therefore cannot be expected to comprehend the entirety of the text. The Enterprise had just arrived on scene when the attack occurred."
He finished his report and waited. Winchester was still as stone beside him.
Dr. Neus sighed, rubbing his forehead. "And why, exactly, does the Impala lack a linguist?"
"We're a research and courier vessel, not a diplomacy parade, which is what I told the Admiralty when they assigned us this mission. I stated we were not fully equipped for the job. It's on record and I was given my orders under protest." Winchester's voice watched Kirk's for smooth professionalism.
"Huh," was Adams' only response. "Well, to the conference room then. We'll need what little materials you have. Then I'll expect a security team standing by to take us to the surface. Of course, despite the poison, I cannot allow any of the team to be wearing masks – that could be construed as a threat to the planet's inhabitants. Follow our orders and we'll have this finished up in no time so you can be on your way to whatever it was you were doing before."
"Ensign, please escort these gentlemen to Lieutenant Uhura," Kirk requested and inhaled deeply as the negotiators swept out of the transporter room.
When they were fully gone, he let the breath out in a controlled fashion. "They seem like jackasses," Winchester remarked conversationally.
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet."
"What are you going to do about the masks?"
"You think I'm wasting my security officers on a race of people that has no qualms about poisoning over two hundred people? The good doctors can go down alone if they hate the masks that much. If you'll excuse me, I have to visit Bones. Scotty said you're transferring back over to the Impala in ten minutes?"
"Yep."
"Good luck. Don't beam anyone up that I wouldn't."
"Damn straight. The last time my ship contacted yours, shit hit the fan spectacularly."
"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you!"
The Enterprise's sick bay was a quiet place after the morning rush of small maladies, allergies and bumps. McCoy was just sitting back with his reports and a cup of coffee when Kirk barged in.
"Bones, they're back."
"Good morning to you too gorgeous," the CMO said dryly.
"Bones, the evil negotiators from hell are back."
"What, the doctor pair?"
"Yes!"
McCoy set his cup of coffee down with a disgusted thump. The evil doctor negotiators from hell were part of the Enterprise's third diplomatic mission and they had wanted to turn Chekov over to human-eating planetary natives because the poor kid had said "vould" instead of "would" and pissed off the natives' high council.
The doctors didn't want a failed negotiation on their record, never minding the fact that the Federation refused to deal with planets that ate sentient beings. Kirk told them where they could stick their perfect record in excruciating detail.
Needless to say, the doctors didn't like the Enterprise much. Especially after Kirk had "accidentally" sent a "primary draft" of a message down to the planet in the native language (which Kirk didn't speak, so he'd enlisted Uhura), telling the inhabitants exactly what he thought and what they weren't getting from the Enterprise. Ever.
First official reprimand of his command career and Kirk didn't give a damn. He had actually printed, framed and hung it on the mess wall as a joke.
McCoy hoped the whole reprimand bit didn't become a habit.
Either way, keeping Kirk from spouting off to the evil doctors was going to be difficult.
"Bones, this sucks," and McCoy was jerked from his thoughts back to the captain, who was now flopped on a clean biobed, hands behind his head.
"What do you want me to say? Go complain to your bosom buddy if you want sympathy."
"Who said I wanted sympathy? Winchester's got his own problems. I actually wanted to know if you had a neurotoxin…" the voice trailed off hopefully.
"If I did, I wouldn't tell you, infant."
"Oh come on."
"No."
"So you do?"
"I said if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
"So yes."
"No."
"Bones, you're telling me you don't have any neurotoxins?"
"No."
"No what?" Impatient legs wiggled at the end of the bed in frustration.
McCoy swallowed a snicker and signed off on another report. "Why are you down here again?"
"Sulu has the conn and I'd go hang out with Uhura, see if I could help but she has Spock and the negotiators with her. I'll just say something stupid."
"And this is new how?"
"You wound me Bones! Seriously, do you think you're up on the planet's herbs?"
McCoy sighed and put down his stylus, hearing the switch from 'Jim' to 'Captain.' "As much as I can be, Jim. It's a whole planet and there are endless combinations. But yes, I'm confident that I've covered most of the major poison groups and I have the computer working on combinations, symptoms, etc."
"Good. Any neurotoxins in that mix? Then we can blame the negotiators' assassination on the T'bedi or something."
"No, Jim. No neurotoxins."
"Damn."
Sam shoved his PADD back across the table and slurped at the industrial sized mug of coffee. Nine in the morning and he was on his second cup already. At least the Enterprise mess served a very decent Arabica drip.
The door swished open and a young ensign managed to announce "The negotiators, sirs," before two newcomers stormed into the conference room.
"Dr. Adams, Dr. Neus," Spock greeted and if Sam wasn't mistaken, there was frigid steel in the Enterprise officer's voice.
Sam hauled himself to his feet in a customary gesture of respect and glanced over to see dark sparks snapping from Uhura's eyes, her long painted nails tapping the table in agitation.
Sam made a note to self: Enterprise does not like Dr. Adams and Dr. Neus. Probably for a very good reason.
"This is Commander Sam Winchester, first and science officer of the Impala," Spock continued frostily and Sam nodded cautiously. The doctors eyed him like a piece of rotten meat.
"Ah, the one appointed first officer by his idiot brother." Disdain dripped off Neus' words, the scorn splattering messily all over the room's atmosphere.
Sam's spine straightened and he scowled.
Uhura was taken aback. Commander Sam Winchester was one of the gentlest people she knew. He was tall and a little intimidating on first appearance certainly, but anyone who spent time with him knew he always had a smile for the clumsiest ensign, a longsuffering sigh for his brother, a vivacious love of knowledge, willing to help whoever needed it, never any sign of a temper.
Right now there was a different man in front of her, one whose expression could have put a dent in the titanium floor with ease. Uhura was suddenly reminded that Sam had almost single-handedly escaped from a Romulan prison planet and could lift skinny Dr. Adams by the neck with one hand without significant exertion.
She was pleased to note that Dr. Adams swallowed nervously as Commander Winchester, Starfleet officer, straightened to his full imposing height. "My apologies, Dr. Adams, but you are mistaken. I was appointed this post by the Admiralty of Starfleet. I am in no way related to those august individuals, although I am sure they would be gratified to know you consider them idiots."
There was an awkward pause until Spock abruptly handed the doctors PADDS containing the past few days' research. "Do you require our assistance to comprehend this knowledge?" Spock asked with the faintest hint of fine disdain.
Both men gathered themselves huffily and dismissed the three officers.
"Thank goodness," Uhura sighed as the door swished shut.
"What did they do?" Sam asked, still frowning.
"They attempted to turn Ensign Chekov over to a planet of humanoid-consuming natives," Spock replied coolly, marching down the corridor at a swift rate. Uhura practically jogged to keep up with the two long-legged men as Spock related the incident.
"Bastards," Sam finally spat as Spock finished and neither Enterprise officer disagreed with him.
Impala
Sam arrived back on the Impala in a towering bad mood, sending ensigns and lieutenants skipping out of his way with alacrity. Sinking into his freshly decontaminated chair, he punched several buttons on the console, bringing the computer up to date and logging new information.
"What's got your knickers in a twist, Sammy?" Dean asked from where he was lovingly reacquainting himself with his command chair.
Sam gave him an abbreviated version of the cannibal story. That in turn put the whole bridge crew in a foul temper – everyone saw the Enterprise officers as kindred spirits.
Thus when Kirk hailed the Impala informing Winchester that the doctors wanted to use the newly cleaned ship as a meeting ground for negotiations, there was a very awkward pause in which various members of the Impala crew probably contemplated murder in the first degree.
Kirk waited patiently, certain that Sam had shared the details of Chekov's little incident. "Kirk, we'll get back to the doctors on that one. Give us twenty minutes," Dean finally replied and the Enterprise captain nodded, cutting transmission.
"All right, campfire," Dean said, spinning his finger in a small circle. Everyone either turned their chairs around or gathered close to the piloting/navigation console.
"Options, people," Dean began, clapping his hands together.
"Technically," Sam began, "you are within your right as captain to refuse to allow an imminent threat aboard the Impala. The T'bedi and Charians have demonstrated that they are a very real and lethal threat."
"But," Ash drawled, "that leaves the Enterprise at risk and even if we didn't like 'em all (an' we do), that's an awful lot of people to expose to potentially deadly poison."
Castiel half-raised a hand, almost self-conscious. "Perhaps we could suggest a neutral position on the planet? Or an Enterprise shuttle as grounds for negotiation?"
"Yeah, lock 'em in the shuttle. They can either negotiate or kill themselves there, I don't give a damn," Ash muttered darkly.
Sam shook his head. "Letting them all die won't work. If one of the representatives doesn't come back, the whole planet goes to war. But the shuttle might, especially if it was the Impala's."
"In short," Dean concluded, "we don't want them on our ship."
There was a general consensus of "Hell no."
"All right-y then. Back to stations. Hail the Enterprise."
Kirk's bridge snapped into view. "Decided?" Kirk asked neutrally.
Dean shrugged. "I assume the doctors aren't present."
"You'd be correct."
"Well then. Kirk, I just got my ship back and we can't afford to empty out a Miranda-class science vessel because six children want to play gas-each-other-to-death-off-planet. We've got a schedule to stick to and a courier mission in three days, so if you'd bring the doctors up, I'll tell them that myself. That being said, I don't wanna screw over the Enterprise if I can help it."
Kirk nodded. "I get it, man. I've already told the doctors there's no way I'm beaming hostiles up onto my ship. I've volunteered a shuttle or neutral ground."
"Sir," Uhura interrupted smoothly. "I'm receiving a transmission from Admiral Cartwright requesting both you and Captain Winchester."
Sam nodded confirmation. "On screen," Dean ordered wearily.
The pinched face of the Admiral came into focus, glaring at both captains with equal ire.
Captain James T. Kirk decided he'd had enough.
"Sir, permission to speak freely?" It was phrased just right, the intonation just barely a challenge, framed in respect.
Cartwright settled back in his chair, thinking. Slowly, he nodded.
"This mission, sir, has been mismanaged from the get-go. Assigning a courier vessel without the proper ethnical resources to comprehend natives who were promised Starfleet assistance was irresponsible and has led to the death of one representative.
Furthermore, you know the previous circumstances under which I worked with the Doctors Adams and Neus. They have, in conversation with both Enterprise and Impala officers, demonstrated the same tunnel vision that led to the unfortunate occurrences of our last mission. I request permission to free the Impala to continue her duties, return the doctors to the closest Starbase and trust the Enterprise to do her job. Sir."
Both crews held their breaths.
"The doctors have assured me they can resolve this peacefully," Cartwright stated relatively calmly, which was either really good or really bad.
"Then I will fully stock a shuttle and leave them here. They don't respect me, they don't respect my people and they have been nothing but rude and unprofessional to the officers of the Impala."
Dean had to fight to keep a smile off his face. Damn, he knew Kirk was a loose cannon but dressing down an Admiral in front of two starship crews? This was going to come back to bite Kirk in the ass.
May as well join the party.
"Sir," Dean began carefully, "these same doctors have made it very clear to everyone they came into contact with that the presence of two Starfleet ships is unnecessary. They are the experts in this instance and we are window dressing. Therefore sir, it is logical to allow us to continue on. There is no immediate threat from illegal traders, Romulans or Klingons this far into Federation Space. When the doctors finish their jobs in a prudent manner, it would be the matter of hours for a transport on a shipping route to deviate, pick them up and return to business."
"Awfully young to be telling me how to do my job, aren't you?" Cartwright asked.
"Sir, we're not telling you how to do your job," Dean said baldly. "We're asking you to let us do ours."
Cartwright actually looked thoughtful.
Kirk hoped there was a person somewhere inside the shrivelled old killjoy.
"The negotiators have twenty four hours during which time you will provide a shuttle for negotiations and every hospitality. Both ships will remain on standby in the area. If the negotiators have not achieved progress in twenty four hours, Enterprise will take over and the Impala will be free to continue on her route.
If however, they have achieved progress, you will continue to fulfil their requests, up to and including both ships remaining in the system. Is that understood?"
It was more than Kirk had expected. Winchester looked like he wanted to say something but Kirk said yes sir and thank you sir and cut the transmission.
"Care to explain, Kirk?" Dean drawled.
"Yeah. Push him on anything and he pulls the rug out from under you. I'll take a short leash over a hand on the collar any day. Trust me man. Last time I asked for an extra two days to get to a star base, he cut his original offer in half. Scotty still hasn't forgiven him for the strain on the engines."
Dean winced in sympathy.
Enterprise
The doctors were unimpressed by the ultimatum but Kirk wasn't budging and assigned Spock to help the doctors expedite the negotiation process. He wasn't sure he could trust anyone else with the irascible men (actually, he wasn't all that certain about Spock either but if Spock decided to commit murder, they'd never find the evidence which was an acceptable solution).
The shuttle was piloted out to geosynchronous orbit, the natives beamed up and then the two ships waited.
Spock and Sam took the opportunity to team up on a complicated subspace scan, babbling in jargon Kirk only vaguely recognized as Standard. Kirk and Winchester started up a game of I Spy with strange new rules over the open communication channel between the two ships. Everyone else rolled their eyes and tried to do their work.
And then the little shuttle exploded.
"Spock?" Kirk asked curiously.
Both science officers had dropped their fascinating discussion and were busily tapping away.
"Sir, judging from residual debris, there was a crude explosive aboard the shuttle."
"Survivors?" Kirk asked.
"No sir."
Sighing, Kirk turned to Uhura. "This is not going to end well. Open a channel to Admiral Cartwright."