Sleeping With the Enemy

by Lil black dog

This is a follow-on to the TOS episode 'Errand of Mercy' – non-AU this time, I promise. The Organians may have put a stop to the fleet-wide Federation/Klingon war, but what if a day later Kirk and Kor were thrust together in a life-or-death situation? Would the two be able to transcend their differences and work together to survive?

A/N: This is a follow-on to the TOS episode 'Errand of Mercy' – non-AU this time, I promise. The Organians may have put a stop to the fleet-wide Federation/Klingon war, but what if a day later Kirk and Kor were thrust together in a life-or-death situation? Would the two be able to transcend their differences and work together to survive?

Sleeping With the Enemy

His eyes snapped open, taking in the gloom around him. He struggled to make sense of where he was. Last he remembered he had been in his cabin, sleep eluding him for the longest time as his mind had played over the events of the last twenty-four hours. Oblivion must have claimed him at some point, but there was nothing familiar about his surroundings in the semi-darkness.

He raised himself to a seated position but couldn't make out the curve of his dresser, or the faint glow reflected in the mirror above it. Glancing behind him, he could see none of the old-style books or historical artifacts on the shelf behind his bed, or the rectangular shape of the viewer he knew to be located there. In fact, there was no shelf at all. Instead, he found himself surrounded on three sides by damp, austere stone walls, the only exit directly before him. He peered suspiciously into the void, squinting in a futile attempt to pierce the all-consuming blackness, but could sense nothing through the impenetrable veil of gray shadows. Climbing hesitantly to his feet, he was surprised to discover he was in full uniform, complete with Starfleet-issue black boots. When he had crawled into bed in what now seemed like barely moments before he had only been wearing his regulation briefs.

He fumbled at his waist for a phaser; or at the very least a communicator, but his hand came up empty. Am I dreaming? he asked himself, reaching out to touch the smooth wall at his side. It was cool and solid under his fingertips, the tactile information doing nothing to confirm or deny his current state of consciousness. No matter the situation, I surely won't learn anything just standing here, he admonished himself, taking a few tentative steps along the only path open to him, his hand absently skimming the firm, unyielding surface to his right.

oooOOOooo

He glanced again at the empty command chair. Alpha shift had begun eight point six minutes ago, and still the captain had not appeared. In the ten point three months James Kirk had been captain of this ship, Spock could not ever remember his commanding officer being late for duty. As he peered over his shoulder, he could feel the eyes of the bridge crew upon him, looking to him for an explanation. Unfortunately, he had none to offer. He had not seen the captain in the mess this morning, but that was not without precedent. There were times that, due to a need to catch up on the never-ending mountain of paperwork, his captain would take coffee in his quarters before the start of his shift, foregoing breakfast in favor of making a dent in what he had come to describe as the bane of his existence.

Spock settled himself into the chair at his station, carefully evaluating the correct course of action. Was Kirk ill? Was he in sickbay? Should he call McCoy and risk tipping off the CMO to Jim's aberrant behavior, or quietly buzz the captain's quarters in the unlikely event that the man had simply overslept?

At that moment the doors to the turbolift opened, and every head swiveled in that direction. They were not met with the sheepish grin of their CO however, but by the ever-present scowl of the ship's senior medical officer, instantly rendering the science officer's current musings moot. "Jim, we need to—" the doctor began, making his way to the inner ring of the bridge. It didn't take long for it to register that the center seat was empty. "Where's Jim?" the mercurial surgeon asked, his eyes shifting to the second-in-command.

"The captain has yet to report for duty," Spock informed him, not allowing the unease growing within him an avenue to the outside. Apparently, McCoy had not seen Kirk this morning, either.

"Thanks Spock, I never would have guessed that on my own in a million years," McCoy said, rolling his eyes skyward as he trudged up the two steps to the Vulcan's station. "So tell me something I don't know, like where the hell he is," the doctor reiterated impatiently.

"The captain has not informed me as to his current whereabouts," the Vulcan admitted frankly.

"Well, have you thought about just paging the man?" the doctor asked pointedly, waving a hand in frustration, a "Good Lord, do I have to think of everything?" following not far behind.

Spock folded his arms across his chest, refusing to be baited by the verbal gauntlet McCoy had thrown down. "I was about to do so, but was interrupted by your ill-timed arrival," the Vulcan replied calmly.

"Well, get on with it, man. It's not like Jim to be late for duty," McCoy blustered. "Besides, I need to talk to him about something."

A call to the captain's cabin failed to be acknowledged however. Spock then resorted to a ship-wide page, his sense of foreboding increasing as that was met with silence as well.

The irritation that had been on McCoy's face moments before transformed into a look of concern. "Maybe we should go see if he's in his quarters, Spock. He could be ill, or injured," the doctor urged, leaning across the Vulcan's station.

"My thoughts exactly," the second-in-command concurred, rising to his feet. "Mister Sulu, you have the con," he announced, seemingly oblivious to the stares that followed him as he and the surgeon made for the turbolift.

oooOOOooo

He had come to a juncture, faced with the choice of turning left or right. It's a maze, he realized, a shiver of unease rippling across him like a chill, fetid breeze. Not knowing what lay ahead, certain only that the answer to this mystery would not be found along the route he had just traversed he headed determinedly down the narrow passageway to the right, searching for a way out of the labyrinth.

Several twists and turns later he came to a dead end. Spinning on his heel he began retracing his steps. "Hello?" he called out, the sound reverberating off the impenetrable stone walls. It might not be wise to give away his position; alert a fellow captive that there was anyone else here at all, but he was running out of options.

The call was met with silence. Did that mean there was no one else in the jumbled mass of tunnels, or that they had wisely chosen to conceal their presence? A frown of grim determination creasing his brow, he set off at a swift pace, all his senses on heightened alert, prepared for whatever contingency surely awaited him around one of the next corners.

oooOOOooo

A buzz to the captain's quarters also went unanswered. McCoy stepped into the path of the sensor, but still the door did not open.

"Locked," the surgeon muttered under his breath as he punched in the medical override code which would grant him and the first officer entrance.

The door slid aside and McCoy stepped into the room. "Jim?" he called tentatively into the darkness.

"Lights, fifty percent," came the instruction from the Vulcan, following closely on the doctor's heels.

McCoy immediately moved off to the rear of the living quarters, while Spock's eyes swept the scene before him. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. There were no signs of a struggle, or an indication that an altercation of any kind had taken place here.

Footsteps drew Spock's attention, but it was only the CMO returning. "Bathroom's empty, but his bed has been slept in. He was here at some point." McCoy paused, tugging at an ear. "It just doesn't make any sense. Why wouldn't he answer a page? Surely he didn't go off by himself and try something stupid, like—"

"There are an infinite number of possibilities that could explain the captain's absence," Spock interrupted smoothly, "but speculation will not prove or disprove any of them. Nor will overly-emotional outbursts. We must devote our energies to ascertaining the facts." The Vulcan moved to the desk, activating the comm unit there. "Spock to security."

"Security, Giotto here, sir," the intercom barked instantly.

"At present, we are unable to locate the captain. You will instruct your men to initiate a phase one search of this vessel. At this time we will operate under the assumption that the captain is somewhere on board and is unable to respond, possibly injured. I shall expect progress reports every fifteen minutes."

Scrambling could be heard over the open mike as security personnel began responding to the first officer's request. "Aye, sir," Giotto answered crisply. "We're on our way."

oooOOOooo

He'd been trudging along for at least fifteen minutes, making little headway due to the relative darkness and blind alleys impeding his progress. It had occurred to him to simply climb one of the walls, survey his surroundings from that perch and get his bearings, but at a height of at least four meters, and with no discernible handholds or footholds, reaching the top was proving to be more than problematical. The sides were too far apart for him to simply wedge himself in between them and shimmy to the top, and even leaping with arms outstretched his fingers came up at least ten centimeters shy of the upper edge.

He continued his deliberate exploration, always turning right at each T intersection, believing—perhaps falsely—that a methodical approach to his plight would keep him from hopelessly going in circles.

Despite the odds, that strategy seemed to be paying off as he was certain he could detect a faint glow in the distance. His intuition kicking in, he slowed his pace in favor of a more stealthy approach. After several more minutes he emerged into a dimly-lit arena of sorts, stunned by the sight that met his eyes.

oooOOOooo

So far, the search had proven futile, and provided no information as to James Kirk's fate, or whereabouts. After the fifth negative report in a row, McCoy turned to the science officer, seated in the command chair. "It's just not possible; he's got to be aboard somewhere. By now Giotto's crews have searched almost the entire ship from stem to stern. Could they have missed him somehow?"

Other heads among the bridge crew swiveled slightly, surreptitiously, ears cocked to hear the response.

"That is, of course, a possibility, but I find it highly improbable."

"Are you saying you think he's no longer aboard the ship?" McCoy asked in disbelief.

"I am merely stating that when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

"Care to speculate on how Jim was simply whisked off board, then?" the doctor pressed derisively, pursing his lips.

"It is not unprecedented, Doctor. Over the course of the first ten months of this mission, we have borne witness several times to crewmen being removed from the ship instantaneously and against their will, by the Thasians, the being known as Trelane, and most recently by the Metrons."

"Well, we aren't near the sections of the quadrant where any of those things happened," McCoy responded, the blue eyes fairly dancing with accusation.

Spock merely raised an eyebrow. "Really, Doctor? We are still in relative proximity to Organia. Like the Organians, Trelane, according to the captain, was an energy being. It is quite plausible that he is a member of this race."

"You can't possibly believe that, Spock."

"What I believe is irrelevant, Doctor. I am merely weighing the possibilities."

"You mean you're guessing."

"Based on the available facts."

"What facts? The only thing we know for sure is that Jim simply isn't here," the doctor argued, fingers closing on the arm of the command chair.

"That is only one of many. We are not within beaming range of a planet or space facility, all shuttlecraft are present and accounted for, and we have not been in the vicinity of another ship, hostile or friendly, for one point two days. Considering the captain has been known to be missing for at most, twelve hours, he could not have been taken by the Klingon ship that was in orbit around Organia at the time we left, twenty-eight point eight hours ago.

"Consider this: With only their minds, the Organians were able to reach out across vast expanses of space and render both our and the Klingon's fleets inoperative, essentially halting all hostilities between our two governments before they began. If Trelane is a member of this species—and we already know he is angry with the captain for thwarting Trelane's plans on Gothos—then it follows that not only would he have the ability, but the motivation, to remove Jim from the ship at will, something that would be highly uncharacteristic for the other races we have encountered to date unless they were specifically provoked to do so."

McCoy harrumphed loudly, folding his arms across his chest, a frown settling over his features.

Spock continued, unruffled by the display. "Since we have found no evidence to support the hypothesis that the captain is still on board then logically we must assume he is elsewhere," came the rational argument.

"And where might that be?" the doctor asked skeptically, a finger brushing his lips. "On Organia? On Trelane's planet of Gothos?"

"Either is a significant possibility, but since Gothos was a planet fabricated by Trelane, presumably no longer in existence once his parents intervened, and since we are still within a day's travel of Organia, logically that is where we should begin our search."

"Seems to me you're just grasping at straws, Spock. By your own admission, the possibilities are endless. Jim could be anywhere."

"Then where would you suggest we begin our search, Doctor?" the Vulcan asked, the sincerity of his tone commingled with a touch of condescension.

"How the hell should I know? I'm a doctor, not a psychic," McCoy fumed.

"Indeed?" the Vulcan replied smugly, an eyebrow creeping toward his bangs. "Based on my observations, I had assumed that you arrived at your medical decisions thanks to Divine intervention."

McCoy shot the Vulcan a look that could fell a man at ten paces, but chose to ignore the not-so-subtle jibe. "Well, your hunch had better be right. If you guess wrong, we may never see Jim again."

"What would you have me do, Doctor? Without concrete evidence, we have no other alternative."

"Just do something, Spock. Unless I'm mistaken, you're in command now. Time's a wastin'. We can snipe at each other ad nauseam once we find Jim. If you're right, and Trelane does have the captain, that pompous ass is likely to finish what he started on Gothos—namely using Jim for target practice."

Heads that were ostensibly not listening to the conversation came to focus on the Vulcan, their looks questioning, expectant.

"Mister DeSalle, lay in a course for Organia," the first officer announced with certainty. "Mister Sulu, proceed to that location at warp four."

"Aye, sir," the two men acknowledged simultaneously, the powerful engines roaring to life at the behest of Sulu's nimble fingers.

oooOOOooo

He peered around the wall, his mind racing, doing his utmost to conceal himself. The arena was roughly elliptical in shape, empty save for numerous old-style weapons adorning the walls. He was able to pick out a Claymore, battle-axe, Bowie knife, a Rigellian ceremonial dagger, and even a Klingon Bat'leth among the huge assortment. But that was by far the least disturbing aspect, for standing in the middle was none other than Kor. What's he doing here? the captain wondered silently. He'd just left the Klingon Commander on the planet Organia a little over a day ago, once the Organian ruling council had decided to put a stop to the war the Klingons and Federation had been intent upon waging amongst themselves. While both sides had believed the Organians to be a primitive, backward race, nothing could have been further from the truth. Highly advanced, having given up their corporeal forms millennia ago, they had prevented the all-out conflict simply through the power of their minds. Unable to fight, his ship and the Klingons' had gone their separate ways, or so he had believed at the time.

Could that man somehow be responsible for the circumstances in which he currently found himself? Not likely, the rational part of his mind argued. Given how events had played out, the Organians simply wouldn't permit it. Then how, why, were they here? His eyes roaming over the environment in which they found themselves, it was obvious they were meant to battle it out. Had the Organians changed their minds? Would the outcome of the war they had interrupted now rest on he and Kor engaging in one-on-one combat, much like the scenario the Metrons had subjected him to several months ago? There was only one way to discern the truth. Stepping from behind the wall that had been sheltering him, he called to the man he thought of as an enemy. "Kor?"

The Klingon pivoted as if struck, confronting him angrily. "Kirk? What is the meaning of this?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he admitted frankly, eyeing his adversary dubiously.

Suddenly, a voice boomed from the darkness above. "Don't blame the Klingon; it's all my doing, Captain." To Kirk, it had a familiar, nasally twang to it. "My elders put a stop to all the fun. I couldn't permit an end to such sport. Grownups just don't have an eye for excitement." The voice continued thoughtfully. "They'd know if I allowed both sides to continue the fight, but a battle between the two of you should go unnoticed."

"Trelane? Is that you?" Kirk asked the darkness.

"Very good, Captain. I see that I did make an impression after all."

"Kirk, you know this being?" Kor shifted his eyes skyward. "Explain yourself!" the Klingon growled through clenched teeth, shaking a fist at the heavens. "Is this some kind of Federation trick?"

"He's not one of ours," Kirk assured his fellow combatant. "He's just a spoiled child, in need of a good spanking." Kirk's eyes rose to the invisible ceiling as well. "Where are your parents, Trelane?"

"Preoccupied at the moment," the disembodied voice replied smugly, echoing throughout the chamber. "Don't expect them to interfere on your behalf again."

"Where are we? On Gothos again?"

The voice became tinged with anger. "No, my parents did away with my little utopia, thanks to your meddling, Captain. So I've brought you to the last place either they or my elders would look for you."

"Which is where?"

"Captain, Captain – so many questions. Even if I were to tell you, it won't help you get away. I won't make the same mistakes I did before."

"You keep referring to your elders. Are you an Organian?" Kirk pressed.

"Does it really matter, Captain? If you're hoping to have them save you, think again. You were very naughty before, and this is the punishment I've decided on for you. I doubt even that ill-mannered Mister Spock can help you now." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Frankly, I think the Klingon will defeat you, hands down. He's not above cheating, after all."

"We Klingons don't cheat," Kor snapped. "We value honor above all else. I shall defeat Kirk fair and square," he announced, lifting his chin and narrowing his eyes derisively.

Kirk took matters into his own hands. "We're not going to fight, Trelane, no matter how much that would amuse you," he stated with conviction.

"Speak for yourself, Captain." Kor addressed the darkness once again. "If I kill him, will I be returned to my ship?"

"You have my sincere promise, Commander," the ethereal voice assured him.

Apparently, that was all the Klingon needed to hear. He lunged at Kirk, his fingers closing around the captain's throat.

Kirk used the momentum to his advantage in a calculated fall, his back hitting the ground, a well-placed foot to the Klingon's midsection causing his foe to tumble over Kirk's shoulders, dislodging the lethal grip. Kor landed hard on his back, grunting loudly as the breath was forced from his lungs.

Kirk was on his feet in an instant, the Klingon not far behind. The two circled each other as the Klingon's eyes roamed over the assortment of weapons on display. Kor turned, making a desperate bid for the wall but Kirk raced after him, tackling the Klingon to the ground.

Laughter could be heard from above, bringing both men up short. "Oh, this is better than I'd hoped, perhaps even better than the game you and I shared on Gothos, Captain. And to think, I've got two crews at my disposal," he squealed with joy. "Granted, the complement of your ship is much greater, Captain, but once I've exhausted all the Klingon crew, I can always pit your people against one another."

Kirk jumped to his feet. "You leave my crew out of this, Trelane," he fired off hotly.

"Alas, they are no longer 'your crew,' Captain, but mine, to do with as I will."

"Where's my ship? What have you done with her?" Kirk railed at the darkness. He was livid now, his adversary completely forgotten.

A sigh of resignation sounded from above. "With you, it's always about your ship. Suffice it to say she's safe for the moment, which is more than can be said for you. If I were you, Captain, I'd start worrying about my own skin."

"Why? What do you mean by that?"

Suddenly, the conversation became disjointed. "No, I wasn't talking to anyone." A lengthy pause ensued. "I'm not doing anything. I was just resting. I'll be right there," the voice above them called sweetly.

"Uh oh, I have to go now, gentlemen, but I'll be back," Trelane whispered harshly. "In the meantime, you can play here. It's a much more fun environment than this one, but riddled with unseen dangers. Hopefully you'll both survive until I get back, but if not, to the victor go the spoils."

The swish of something moving away could be heard as the darkness around them dissolved into a lush plain, a thick stand of trees visible in the distance.

oooOOOooo

The ship's four senior officers were gathered around the table in Briefing Room Two. Lieutenant Commander Giotto was speaking: "It just doesn't make any sense, sir. My teams have completed the second full sweep of the ship and still no sign of the captain. If he's on board, I'd like to know where."

"Well, what do we do now, Spock?" McCoy demanded.

"We continue on course to Organia."

"Why? We have no proof that Jim is there."

"We have already been through this, Doctor. Based on what we know, that will be the most probable location to search for the captain."

"And as I've said before, we really don't know anything. If you're so sure he's on Organia then let's contact the Organians. Maybe they can help, or tell us if you're completely off your rocker."

"And how do you propose we do so?"

"They stopped the war, didn't they? There must be some way to get in touch with them."

Spock shifted in his seat, steepling his fingers before him. "You are forgetting, Doctor, they contacted us with a plan to cease hostilities, not the other way around."

"So?"

"It is not as if they have joined the Federation; taken a seat on the Federation Council. They are a far superior race, and would have no reason to consult with or work with us in any way, shape or form."

"Then how are they keeping our two sides from waging this war? They must be keeping tabs on things somehow."

"Presumably they are monitoring both sides for signs of aggression."

"Well then, let's do something to make them stand up and take notice."

Heads snapped to McCoy, shock openly registering on the faces of the humans present. Spock's eyebrow flew up in disbelief. "Are you advocating an act of violence, Doctor? Surely even you realize that is not the proper course of action."

McCoy favored the second-in-command with a look of contempt. "Are you out of your Vulcan mind? It's bad enough that Jim is gone. Do you think I want to endanger any more lives?"

"Your suggestion would seem to indicate the intent to do so."

"I'm not talking about going after the Klingons with guns blazing. Why can't we just violate Klingon space or something? Surely that would attract the Organians' attention without causing harm to parties on either side."

Scott, who had been quietly listening to the exchanges, suddenly felt compelled to join the conversation. "An' it might also bring the Klingons down on us. Suppose we have to defend ourselves before the Organians intervene, if they do at all? What if they've forgotten about us an' our petty problems already? We need to keep in mind that the Klingons tend to guard their borders tenaciously, like a Berengarian dragon defendin' its nest; tend to shoot first an' ask questions later. It could turn into a bloodbath, for both sides."

McCoy turned to face the Scotsman. "Their goal is to keep us from blasting each other to kingdom come; my guess is they wouldn't allow it, either on our part or the Klingons'."

"We'd be takin' one helluva chance, with the ship an' crew payin' the price if we're wrong, not to mention the possible threat to galactic peace."

"Would it really be such a gamble? As Spock so aptly pointed out to me earlier, they stopped us once before, reaching out over countless light years to keep us from doing something incredibly stupid."

"Well, this would certainly fit the bill," the chief engineer responded, angry now, eyes flashing, slapping a palm on the table before him.

"Maybe not," Giotto replied softly. "If Mister Spock's right, this might be the best and fastest way to get the Organians' attention, Scotty," he added, his features calm, his voice steady.

"Have ye all gone daft? Mister Spock, please talk some sense into them." The Scotsman turned pleading eyes to the second-in-command.

Spock paused, a contemplative look settling over the angular face. "It is a most interesting suggestion, Doctor; one that may actually have potential should we find that we have no other recourse. However, it should prove more productive, and certainly less antagonistic for all concerned, to start with Command. They shall have to be informed of the captain's disappearance in any case. Perhaps they have been instructed on the proper method to contact the Organians." He swiveled in his seat, activating the three-sided viewer in the center of the table. "Spock to bridge."

"Bridge, Uhura here, sir."

"Lieutenant Uhura, please contact Admiral Komack in Sector Nine and transfer it to this location."

"Aye, sir," she responded immediately, beeps and clicks audible as she hurried to fulfill the first officer's request.

McCoy swallowed grimly. It didn't sit well with him at all to be leaving a man's fate in the hands of bureaucrats.

oooOOOooo

"Where are we now?" Kor asked, standing at Kirk's elbow, the brightness causing him to squint after such a long period in twilight.

"I haven't the first clue," Kirk answered, shading his eyes, surveying their surroundings, "but if the past is any indication, I guarantee it will be most unpleasant."

It was unbearably hot, both men beginning to sweat. "Well, Commander, since we have no idea how long we'll be here, I suggest we look for shelter out of the sun, and at least try to locate a water source." Kirk began heading for the copse of trees several hundred meters distant.

"Just how do you know this being?" Kor demanded, hurrying to keep up with Kirk's longer stride.

"We had a run-in several months back," Kirk supplied. "He kidnapped me and several members of my crew, ostensibly to study us. To make a long story short I found out just as he was about to do me in that he was just a young boy, his parents reprimanding him for his callous treatment of 'his pets.' They returned me to my ship and let us go, promising that something like this wouldn't happen again. It seems they were wrong."

"Hah! I don't believe you," Kor stated, wrinkling his nose in distrust.

Kirk glanced sideways at him. "Believe what you like, it doesn't matter to me. All that matters is my ship. I've got to find out what he's done with her."

"Well, that would be best served by doing away with me. You heard what he said—to the victor go the spoils."

"And I'm telling you, there won't be any spoils," Kirk shouted, giving in to his rage and frustration, his words short, clipped, his speech halting, bursting forth like short, intense blasts from a phaser. "He and I have done this before. If you do manage to kill me, he's just as likely to take up the battle with you himself, and you heard what he said about our crews. He's not going to simply let one of us go. Don't you see? He's just a child, and therefore impossible to reason with, especially since he views us as a far inferior species. If he is an Organian, he is as far above us as we are the tiny microscopic organisms native to each of our planets. Trust me, we're stuck here, no matter who wins. As playthings, we're much too interesting."

Kor regarded Kirk suspiciously. "How do I know you're being truthful; that you won't kill me as soon as I let my guard down?" The pitch and intensity of the Klingon's voice had risen as well.

Kirk paused, drew a protracted breath, a flash of amusement glinting in his eyes. "You don't; any more than I do where you're concerned. We're just going to have to learn to trust one another if we hope to come through this at all. Believe me, I don't like it any more than you do but at the moment I don't see any other viable options."

Kor began a reply, but it was drowned out by the sound of thunderous footfalls behind them. Glancing over their shoulders, they saw a lumbering beast approaching at a speed that seemed impossible for such a large specimen. Exchanging a panicked look, the two started running full tilt for the safety of the trees, fifty meters away now.

The size of an elephant, the beast's thick skin, mottled in a black and yellow pattern reminiscent of a Terran cheetah, rippled as powerful muscles moved beneath it. But that was where the similarity ended. The sound of pounding hooves drew ever nearer, the snap of sharp, pointed teeth mere centimeters behind them as they exploded into the forest, immediately separating. Kor disappeared into the dense tangle of underbrush to the left, the creature hot on Kirk's tail as he zigged and zagged among the smaller saplings in an effort to shake off his pursuer. He heard the snap of tree trunks behind him as the beast powered through the new growth, slowing its progress, but only just.

Heading for a pocket of more mature, tightly packed trees, Kirk came to a stop once inside, chest heaving, as he realized the larger conifers were too close together for the beast to follow him. Snarling and spitting the creature pawed at the thick wall of branches, trying with single-minded determination to get to Kirk. After several long minutes it let out a snort of frustration, giving up, loping away in search of easier prey.

Kirk leaned forward, hands on his knees, still trying to catch his breath, eyes roaming the uneven landscape before him in search of the Klingon. Had the beast gotten him? Had Kor used the ensuing chaos to strike out on his own? He cast a glance over his shoulder, half-expecting the Klingon to be charging him, attempting to finish what he had started back in the maze. As he was contemplating these different scenarios, the sound of faint, unintelligible cries reached his ears. Making as little noise as possible he began retracing his steps, hoping to catch a glimpse of his adversary. As he continued on toward the edge of the forest, the sounds became high-pitched, frantic, and he realized they were calls for help. On autopilot now, he bounded through the thick, twisted vegetation, branches slapping his face, thorns tearing at his clothing, the roots of trees doing their utmost to make him lose his footing. "Kor. Where are you?" he shouted, caution now thrown to the wind.

"Here. Help me, Kirk," was the desperate reply that met his ears.

He skidded to a stop, consumed by a moment of uncertainty. Was it a trap? Was Kor hoping to lure him into a situation where the Klingon would gain the upper hand? Trelane's words rumbled through his head, but he chose to ignore them, squelching the feelings of doubt and mistrust they evoked.

Spurred on by another raucous bellow, he burst into a small, clear area, stopping short as his eyes came to rest on the Klingon, utterly stunned by what he saw.

oooOOOooo

"And that is why we believe the Organians are responsible for Captain Kirk's disappearance, Admiral," Spock finished, explaining the events of the last few hours to his superior officer.

"An interesting hypothesis, Commander, but unfortunately just that," the admiral countered. "You have no concrete proof whatsoever. The Organians have shown themselves to be a highly-advanced race, far superior to us, and we simply can't accuse them of something of this nature without the specifics to back it up. Who knows how they'd respond?"

"That is why we wish to contact them, sir; present them with the facts as we know them, and allow them to formulate a plan of action based on their own conclusions."

"Well, that might be a viable option if we knew how to get in touch with them. This Ayelborne, who appeared before the Federation Council, simply said open hostilities between our two governments would not be permitted, and that any further attempts by either side to engage in such actions would be dealt with swiftly and decisively. We have no idea what that means, and frankly I'm not willing to find out based on a whim." Komack paused, his features hardening. "We're talking about the fate of one man here versus the possible annihilation of the entire Federation, not to mention that we don't even know if Kirk is truly missing. I can't and won't permit it. If you ask me, odds are he's still somewhere aboard and your search parties have just failed to find him. Kirk's a bit of a maverick anyway. Who knows what kind of stunt he's pulled now?" Komack's look shifted as he came to a decision. "Your orders are to carry out your duty and proceed to your next assignment, Commander." And with that the screen went dark.

"Well, that tears it," McCoy noted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Not precisely, Doctor. We may have been forbidden to approach Organia, but there other options as you so aptly pointed out."

"But you heard what the admiral said, Mister Spock—what if the Organians react hostilely?" Giotto interjected.

"I do not believe they will, Commander. Based on my experience with them on the planet, they did not wish to see anyone harmed in any way. It would not be in their nature to simply lash out indiscriminately, regardless of what the admiral believes. And so gentlemen, it follows logically that now our only course of action entails implementing the doctor's plan of violating the neutral zone." Spock turned to the security chief. "Mister Giotto, you shall instruct your men to do another sweep of the ship on the off chance that the captain has been purposely evading the search parties."

"Yes, sir," Giotto responded, getting swiftly to his feet and exiting the room.

"And why would he do that, Spock? Being captain of this ship means everything to Jim," McCoy pointed out matter-of-factly.

"As I stated before, I am merely considering all the alternatives, Doctor." Spock stood as well, an indecipherable emotion passing briefly over the normally imperturbable features. "Gentlemen, I believe our presence is required on the bridge," he announced, his face once again unreadable as he made for the briefing room doors, Scott and McCoy hurrying to keep pace with him.

oooOOOooo

Kirk was looking at a roughly circular pit, perhaps fifteen meters in diameter, the sides all around dropping down about two meters. Near the center was Kor, buried up to his waist in what could only be described as quicksand.

"Watch out! I have no idea how far out this goes," Kor cautioned. "I was running from the beast when I fell in here. The ground was muddy and soft around the edge, but not dangerously so. I tried to make it to the other side but started sinking once I got partially across."

"Hold on, and hold still. Fighting it will only make you sink faster." Kirk shifted his eyes skyward, scouring the trees above.

"Now's your chance to make good on your promise from earlier: Get me out of here, Kirk!"

The captain scanned the trees around him, his eyes coming to rest on a thick vine dangling just out of reach, hanging from the canopy overhead. Leaping for the trailing edge, his fingers closed around it, the loose, dead bark crumbling in his hands, causing his grip to slip somewhat. Latching on for dear life and wriggling like a fish out of water, he was rewarded with a resounding snap as the vine came free of the tangle of branches overhead. Landing unceremoniously on his back, he jumped to his feet, dragging his prize along with him.

Standing on the raised perimeter, he tossed the end to the trapped man. It came up half a meter short. "It's not long enough. I can't reach it," Kor shouted, his fingers straining in vain to grasp the end. "You'll have to find something longer."

"There isn't time," Kirk said, slipping gingerly over the embankment. Kor had sunk another twenty-five centimeters in the space of a few minutes. Shortly, he'd disappear beneath the surface completely.

Kirk assumed a prone position, distributing his weight over the widest possible area as he inched toward the Klingon. Slithering on his belly as far as he dared through the soft soil, he whipped the vine in Kor's direction once again. This time the end landed a few centimeters in front of the outstretched hands, the man now buried up to his chest.

Alien fingers reached for, finally caught hold of the end. Kirk got to his knees, leaning back, tugging with all his might.

"Pull harder, Kirk," Kor demanded, his own muscles knotted with effort. After a few moments, the Klingon started to move slightly, a sucking sound preceding the sudden lurch forward.

Keeping hold of the end Kirk turned, making for the sloping sides of the pit on hands and knees, dragging the Klingon behind him centimeter by centimeter. Finally, Kirk's hands found a tree root peeking out from the sunken edge of the pit and he grasped it firmly, pulling on the vine for all he was worth with the other arm.

At last Kor slid free of the hole, lying spread-eagle on top of the shifting, slimy soil. Using the vine, he worked his hands along it end over end, pulling himself ever closer to the edge of his prison. After what seemed an eternity to Kor, strong fingers closed around his wrist as Kirk wrestled the Klingon up beside him. The two lay for several long moments against the edge of the depression, struggling to catch their breath, each pondering the gravity of the situation in which he currently found himself.

oooOOOooo

Spock settled himself into the command chair, permitting himself a steadying breath before addressing the navigator. "Mister DeSalle, you will change course. Bring her about to 245, mark 13."

There was a moment of silence as the new course was computed, McCoy and Scott exchanging a surreptitious glance.

"Sir, that heading will take us into the Klingon Neutral Zone."

"I am well aware of that, Navigator. ETA to the Neutral Zone at present speed?"

"Three hours, fifty-three minutes, sir," came the hesitant response.

"Please engage, Mister DeSalle. We shall proceed on my authority alone."

A sharp intake of breath could be heard from the communications station as a confused look passed between Sulu and DeSalle.

"Aye sir; course laid in, implementing."

"But Mister Spock, what about the captain?" All heads swiveled to Uhura. She had never openly questioned the orders of one of her superior officers before. "We aren't going to abandon the search for him, are we?"

"There has been a change of plans, Lieutenant. It would take fourteen point seven hours to reach Organia. It is quite probable that by invading Klingon space, we can force an appearance of the Organians much sooner. Logically, we should pursue the option that will bring about a resolution to this issue in the shortest time possible. If that entails violating Klingon space then I am prepared to do so, and face the consequences of my actions if it will allow us to rescue the captain in a more timely fashion."

oooOOOooo

Kirk was the first to find his footing, offering a hand to his companion. Kor grasped it, their eyes meeting, as Kirk tugged the Klingon unceremoniously to his feet. "Okay?" the human asked, searching the other's face.

Kor took stock of himself. "Other than being covered in filth, I seem to be uninjured." He hesitated, his next words sticking in his craw. "Thanks," he managed finally, doing his utmost to avoid eye contact with his rescuer.

"Don't mention it," Kirk responded lightly. "I'm sure you'd have done the same for me." But the look in his eye said he didn't entirely believe his own words.

Kor did nothing to disavow him of the notion. "By Kahless' fist, what was that thing?" the Klingon asked at last, moving the conversation in a different direction. He bent to retrieve a stick, using it to scrape what mud he could from his uniform.

"I was hoping you could tell me. Those types of creatures don't exist on Qo'noS?"

"We have a wide variety of indigenous species, many of which are just as violent and just as dangerous, but nothing like that."

"It's not a native to Earth, either which means it was either a product of Trelane's overactive imagination, or a beast he's seen elsewhere. In either case, who knows what else he has in store for us."

"Agreed."

"I suggest we look for a more defensible position. It won't do to be caught out in the open and vulnerable again, and judging by the look of things, it'll be dark in several hours."

"Then we need to get out of these woods; get to higher ground where we can better assess our surroundings." Kor pointed to a large outcropping of rock visible through the periphery of the trees, rising in the distance perhaps five kilometers from their current location.

"That does seem to be our best option," Kirk agreed. "However, we'll be less likely to find food or water there."

"Something we definitely won't need if we're eaten by the local wildlife," the Klingon quipped, fixing Kirk with a look that said 'surely you can't be serious?' "Who knows what else is roaming around down here? For now, we need to get somewhere safe. We can search for those things tomorrow, in daylight."

On the inside, Kirk bristled slightly. He was used to being in charge, not having his decisions questioned at every turn. With great effort, he put those feelings aside. "Okay, we head for the hills," Kirk said, a thin smile of compromise twisting his lips.

The two trudged along in silence for twenty minutes or so, following the perimeter of the large plain where they had first encountered the beast from the safety of the trees. Up ahead they were met with a strange sight: Peeking through the muddled conglomeration of vegetation they could see an unnatural clearing, carpeted with thick, short grass and illuminated by a golden light from above. A single tree, laden with large, purple fruit, rose from the center like an oversized, green umbrella, a small body of water beside it, its surface rippling slightly due to the gentle breeze.

"Well Kirk, what do you make of that?" the Klingon asked, thrusting his chin at the odd sight before them.

"It has Trelane's fingerprints all over it. Let's go investigate." Kirk stepped out into the open, cautiously heading for the solitary apparition looming before them.

Kor hung back, reluctant to leave the shadows. "If it is something of Trelane's doing then it's probably a trap," he cautioned, his eyes darting to the branches above in search of a hidden menace, but Kirk continued on, oblivious to the warning. "Don't touch them," the Klingon snapped as Kirk reached for two metallic-looking objects dangling from one of the branches. The captain ignored him, plucking them and what appeared to be a piece of parchment from the short, squat tree. "Canteens," he informed his companion, "and a note." He scanned it quickly, beckoning for Kor. Not wanting to be upstaged by a mere human Kor approached, all the while nervously watching for anything else out of the ordinary. Kirk thrust the piece of vellum into his hands.

"What do you expect me to do with this, Kirk?" he growled, frustrated with the human once again. "It's written in Standard."

"Turn it over. I can only assume that's the Klingon version on the back."

Flipping the document over, Kor began to read aloud, Kirk's Universal Translator rendering the words:

Hip hip, hooray, gentlemen. I see you managed to escape from the Canopian mitalka relatively unscathed. Well done, but I promise there's much more in store for you. What kind of a host would I be if I didn't at least give you a fighting chance? As an expression of good faith, I'm supplying you with food and drink. It's not nearly as sumptuous as the banquet I offered you on Gothos, Captain, but does fall more in line with your current predicament. I suggest you stock up gentlemen—I may decide not to be so magnanimous in the future.

Trelane

Kor glanced sharply at Kirk. "Surely you don't believe this nonsense? It's just as likely that these things are poisoned, and will kill us instantly." Hands on his hips, the Klingon stuck out his lower lip belligerently.

"And I suppose you think anything we find on our own won't?" Kirk paused, letting his words sink in. "Trelane created this little slice of heaven for us. That means anything here has the potential to kill us."

"My point exactly," the Klingon argued forcefully, pacing in front of Kirk with short, explosive steps. He spun to meet the captain's gaze squarely. "Without instruments we have no way to test anything we might find. Why are you so convinced that this is safe; that we should believe him? You yourself said he couldn't be trusted, so why would you put any stock in this drivel?" Kor wanted to know, slapping at the paper still in his hand.

Kirk paused before responding, striving to clarify the thoughts in his head. "It's hard to explain," he began at last, "but somehow I know that for Trelane, there'd be no sport in simply poisoning us. For him, the thrill is in the chase, the unpredictability of what we'll do in a given situation." He stopped, brushing his cheek with a palm before continuing. "In his mind, this is probably the gentlemanly thing to do; make sure that if we suffer, it's part of the game and not from something so mundane as hunger or thirst. No, I think he has a much more spectacular end in mind for us."

"Are you willing to bet your life on that?" the Klingon countered, "Because I'm not."

Not one to back down from a challenge, Kirk reached out and snapped one of the purple orbs off of the tree, taking a hearty bite of the oversized fruit as Kor looked on in utter disbelief. Thick, green juice dribbled down his chin. Suddenly his eyes grew wide as the alien fruit clattered to the ground, his hands flying to his neck, strangled choking noises being ripped from his throat.

"Kirk? Kirk!" Kor shouted, grasping the man by the shoulders. "I told you not to eat it," he snarled.

Kirk collapsed to his knees, a new sound being forced from his lips as his shoulders started to shake uncontrollably.

Kor dropped down beside him, his concern melting to all-out irritation as he realized the captain wasn't choking, but snickering, the human's face flushed with mirth. "Kirk, what is the meaning of this?" the Klingon demanded, thrusting a finger in the captain's face.

Kirk clutched at his sides, laughter still bubbling up from within. "You should have seen your face—it was priceless." He dissolved into another fit of giggles.

"You find this humorous? Perhaps it's just a lack of comprehension on my part, but I've never understood the Terran penchant for pranks," Kor announced, clearly annoyed, climbing to his feet. "It is a practice in which we Klingons simply don't engage."

Kirk followed suit. "I was just trying to dispel some of the tension of the situation," he announced apologetically, mischief glinting in his eyes. "For what it's worth, it really does taste awful," he informed the Klingon, swiping at his chin with the back of his sleeve. "That means Trelane wins. The joke's on me, too, not just you," he added helpfully.

Kor merely scowled at him, refraining from comment.

"C'mon, you have to admit that was pretty funny." The captain tried on one of his most disarming grins.

The observation was met by the Klingon folding his arms across his chest, glowering at Kirk.

"You know, you're a lot like Spock in that respect," Kirk remarked wryly, the grin slowly fading into a grimace of contrition.

"I beg your pardon?" Kor countered, completely nonplussed.

"Never mind," Kirk said, dismissing the line of conversation with a wave of his hand. Tossing the two metal containers to the Klingon, he slipped his gold tunic over his head, tying the sleeves and bottom shut, making a small carrying sack of sorts. "I'll gather the fruit, you fill the canteens," he said to Kor, harvesting the large, eggplant-colored fruits and stuffing them into his makeshift bag.

Kor opened his mouth to speak, ready to argue the point, but seemed to think better of it. Swallowing his objections he dropped to his knees beside the pool, submerging each of the canteens Trelane had provided for them in turn. When he was done he handed one to Kirk, who took a healthy sip from his. Kor pointedly refused to drink, his gaze squarely on Kirk as he tightened the cap to his own bottle, slinging its long strap over his shoulder. He set off without a word for the hills once again, now only a kilometer or so away. Thoroughly confounded, Kirk looked to the heavens, arms outstretched, pulling a 'why me?' face before falling into step behind him.

The two continued on in silence, reaching the foothills and starting up a narrow path dotted along the sides with sparse vegetation, one edge bordered by the solid bedrock of the towering outcropping, the other dropping off precipitously as they climbed ever higher.

Kor, in the lead, glanced over his shoulder to speak to Kirk when the silence was rent by an earth-shattering crack. Out of nowhere, a bolt of lightning hit the ground between the two men, slamming Kor hard against the rock wall and tossing Kirk over the edge of the cliff.

When the dust cleared, Kor rose unsteadily to his feet. "Kirk? Where are you?" he called, his voice careening off the wall behind him.

"Here," came the strangled, muffled reply.

Following the sound, Kor approached the steep edge, peering over the side. Kirk was about a meter below, clinging to an almost non-existent rock ledge by his fingertips, sweat standing out on his brow, his face smudged with dirt. He glanced up at the Klingon, realizing without a doubt he was now at the man's mercy.

Now it was Kor's turn to be seized by a moment of indecision. His internal struggle must have been evident. Kirk's look hardened into one of grim determination but he did not speak, merely eyeing the Klingon suspiciously.

Kor threw himself onto his stomach, reaching a hand over the edge. "Grab on," he said to the human, their fingers still about fifteen centimeters apart.

Kor could hear Kirk's feet scrabbling for purchase as he fought to anchor himself. With a mighty effort, the captain swung wildly for the outstretched hand, his fingers closing on the Klingon's wrist as Kor's embrace tightened about his own.

Using his free hand as a brace, Kor inched backward, straining to pull Kirk over the top. Kirk pushed from below as well, using his feet and the hand still on the ledge for leverage. Somehow between the two of them, Kirk's head finally popped above the edge, his upper torso soon following. Swinging his legs over the side, Kirk rolled onto his back, a heavy sigh of relief escaping his lips. Kor lay beside him, panting as well.

"I don't know about you," the human remarked, pinching the bridge of his nose, "but I'm feeling a bit of déjà vu. Didn't we just do this an hour or so ago?"

"Oh shut up, Kirk. This is all your fault. This Trelane character is trying to exact his revenge on you, not me. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here at all."

Kirk felt a twinge of guilt. Kor was absolutely right. If the Klingon wound up being killed, he'd be to blame as surely as if he'd taken the man's life himself. Not that he hadn't wanted to choke the life out of the self-appointed governor on Organia, but this was an entirely different situation. Despite the captain's ideological differences with the Klingon Empire, Kor didn't deserve to die for Kirk's mistakes. Besides, the man had just proven he had some honor, and integrity.

Getting gingerly to his feet, the captain once again offered a hand to the man on the ground before him. Kor accepted it grudgingly, the anger behind his words still marring the Klingon's features. As Kirk bent to retrieve the bag of fruit, he noticed a small shrub, smoldering thanks to the lightning strike. He pointed, Kor following his gaze.

"That could definitely come in handy later," the Klingon said, immediately grasping the importance of the glowing ember at its base. "Keep it from going out, Kirk. I'll see if I can find some way to transport it."

Using the metal cap from his canteen, Kirk scooped up the pebble-sized coal, depositing it on a handful of dry grass he had plucked from the side of the path. Kor returned a few minutes later, a substantial clump of dry grass in his hand, which he proceeded to wad up, twisting it into a U-shape. "We can set it in here, and cover the whole thing loosely with damp cloth," he said, stripping off his mud-covered gold sash and belt.

Tearing a good-sized swatch from the thin cloth, the Klingon moistened it ever-so-slightly with a sprinkling of water from his canteen, nestling the bundle of dry grass within. Kirk deposited the ember—grass and all—into the makeshift container. Kor pressed the small, orange coal down into the center of the bundle he had made, then drew the ends of the fabric loosely over the whole enterprise, securing them in place with his belt. "This should give us at least an hour or two," the Klingon remarked, eyes drawn to the heavens. It'll be dark not long after that. We'll need to find a place to spend the night soon, so we can stockpile some wood."

"Very impressive," Kirk commented, surveying the Klingon's handiwork with no small measure of surprise.

"Well, we aren't as soft as you humans; not nearly as dependent on technology. All Klingon males learn this skill at an early age."

Kirk bit his tongue. He was no stranger to roughing it in the outdoors as well, and all Starfleet personnel were required to pass a two-week basic survival course before graduation. However, this wasn't the time or the place to get into a meaningless debate with his adversary. "Then let's get moving," he said, swinging the bag of fruit over his shoulder and continuing along the path. He could hear Kor following several steps behind.

They climbed steadily for the next forty-five minutes, Kirk bending periodically to retrieve material that could later act as tinder for the coal they were so painstakingly protecting, stuffing the flammable bits into the makeshift bag as well.

Before long they came upon a large, roughly circular depression in the rock face, extending back about fifteen meters. Kirk was startled to see a large pile of wood, stacked neatly toward the rear of the natural shelter.

"We should stop here for the night," he said, signaling to the Klingon behind him and gesturing to the veritable mountain of combustible fuel contained within.

Kor surveyed their surroundings with a considerable amount of mistrust. "Why?" he questioned. "So your friend Trelane can cause a cave-in, trapping us in here?"

Kirk was starting to get angry. "You were the one who suggested we come up here. Do you have a better location in mind where we can defend ourselves from the indigenous wildlife if need be? It's already stocked with wood, which will save us the trouble of having to gather it for ourselves, and Trelane has supplied us with the means to get it burning. To me, that says he expects us to shelter here. Again, killing us by simply burying us under an avalanche of rock just doesn't fit with his personality."

Kor's eyes were blazing in the approaching twilight. "To which, my question is—why? What proof do you have?" Kor pounded a fist on the rock wall beside him. "I don't understand you at all, Kirk. You place an awful lot of faith in someone you claim not to trust."

"What other choice do I have?" Kirk's look said he wasn't only speaking of Trelane.

"Touché. It fits with the old Klingon proverb—'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.'" Kor's eyes narrowed dangerously.

The corners of Kirk's mouth lifted into a semi-smile that held no warmth. "Sound advice," he conceded, "but the quote is from Machiavelli."

"That's just like you Federation types—you think you own the galaxy and that everything good, and right, comes from you," Kor replied vehemently, waving a hand, spittle collecting in the corner of his mouth. "Your holier-than-thou, hypocritical attitude sickens me."

"Holier-than-thou? You're joking, right? At least we don't take what we want, trouncing on the weak just because we can." Kirk's voice had risen as well.

"No? Maybe you don't do it with weapons or superior firepower, but all the same you manage to assimilate those races weaker than yourselves; bring them into the fold so to speak, crushing their individuality, their uniqueness, smothering them with—"

The argument was halted by a roar in the distance, drawing the attention of both men.

"Seems to me we have a choice," Kirk said, his gaze settling on the man before him. "We can stand here bickering like children, or work together to fight against Trelane and whatever surprises he has in store for us. I opt for a truce. So what do you choose?" Kirk was now regarding the Klingon openly, honestly, the anger of moments before replaced with a quiet resolve.

Kor sucked in his lower lip, hands on his hips. "I suppose we could make a fire, hole up here for the night. I have no desire to be on the menu, and only a fool fights in a burning house," he admitted.

On impulse, Kirk extended a hand. Kor took it slowly, his eyes never leaving Kirk's face. "For now, but know that should we meet again, under different circumstances…." The Klingon's voice trailed off, his long mustache rippling as the man's lips were drawn into a mirthless smile.

"I'd expect nothing less, and I'm sure, neither would you, Commander," came the instantaneous rejoinder.

"As long as we understand one another, Kirk." Both men were grinning in earnest now. Kirk released the Klingon's hand; went to the woodpile and began carrying armloads to the edge of the opening as Kor knelt down, proceeding to draw the tinder Kirk had collected from the makeshift bag. Mounding it up, he dumped the smoldering ember onto it, gently breathing life into it. He was soon rewarded with a burst of golden flame.

In no time at all they had a roaring fire going. Both men huddled close to it, hands stretched out before them to drink in its warmth as the temperature plummeted along with the sinking sun.

Kirk drew a piece of fruit from the bag, tossing it to the Klingon. He caught it, nose wrinkling in disgust. "Fruit and vegetables," the commander fumed. "Food for the weak. Do I look like a peace-loving Vulcan? Real men eat meat," he scoffed, sniffing at the glossy, purple skin and shuddering slightly.

"Trust me, I'd like nothing better than a thick, juicy steak right about now, but since this is all there is we'll just have to make due." Kirk bit into his own piece, grimacing as the acrid, slimy flesh danced along his tongue.

Kor followed suit, his gaze locked on Kirk's. "It is reminiscent of B'klo'ugh, a vegetable native to my homeworld," he commented, making a face. "It tastes just as putrid," Kor finished, chewing slowly, deliberately, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Kirk responded with an impish grin of his own, forcing down another bite of the bitter fruit, washing it down with a healthy swig from his canteen. Fortunately, the water had no taste at all.

Suddenly, Kor dropped his gaze. "Why did you save me, Kirk, when it would have been so easy to just let me die? We are sworn enemies after all," he asked softly, sinking his teeth into the doughy, emerald-colored flesh yet again.

Kirk eyed the Klingon thoughtfully. "Probably for the same reason you saved me," he replied. "Besides, it was the right thing to do; the human thing to do. You shouldn't have to die because of me." Kirk's look shifted. "I might ask you the same thing," he added as an afterthought.

Kor scoffed. "I did so out of honor. There was a debt to be repaid, a life for a life if you will. I merely did my duty," the Klingon responded gruffly.

Kirk looked askance at the man seated across the fire from him. "No, I don't think so. For all your talk of honor, of fulfilling what you perceived as a debt, I think maybe you're finally starting to realize that while we may have been enemies once, that was in another time, another place. Right here, right now, we've only got each other."

"Nonsense. I still think the way to get back to my ship is to defeat you," he confessed bluntly, despite his pledge from earlier. "Once this spoiled child of yours has avenged himself upon you he won't need me anymore." Kor lifted his chin defiantly, stubbornly, eyes blazing.

"That's entirely up to you," Kirk conceded, "but do you really want to take that chance? The question now becomes who do you trust more—him or me?"

Kor stopped chewing, gazing at Kirk candidly. "A most interesting quandary," the Klingon admitted frankly. "That would call for a change in my thinking. I'll need to learn to consider you as an ally, as opposed to an adversary."

"Well, that's something I can't do for you—you'll have to reach that conclusion on your own." Kirk settled himself on his back beside the fire. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat. I could do with a little shuteye."

"One of us should stay awake; keep an eye out for danger. I'll take the first watch."

"Okay, wake me in four hours." Kirk let out a huge yawn, closing his eyes and pillowing his head on his hands in an act of faith he hoped he wouldn't come to regret.

oooOOOooo

"Mister Spock," Sulu said, glancing over his shoulder at the man seated in the command chair. "All forward momentum has just stopped. The engines are still running, and my panel says we're traveling at warp four, but we simply aren't going anywhere."

Spock looked to the engineering station.

"There's nothin' wrong with my bairns," the Scotsman supplied, his hands dancing over the console before him. "All systems show normal." He had opened the mike, prepared to place a call to his department, when klaxons started sounding as a shape materialized on the upper tier of the bridge near the viewscreen.

"Mister Spock, your ship is about to invade Klingon space. We cannot permit this," the specter informed him calmly.

"Ayelborne," Spock acknowledged. "Our intentions are not hostile. It was merely our desire to precipitate a meeting with you."

"For what purpose?"

"Captain Kirk has been missing for a minimum of five hours."

"And how is that my concern?"

"He was removed from the ship, and we have reason to believe an Organian is responsible."

"That is preposterous. Our people have done their utmost to prevent harm from coming to the races of the Federation, or the Klingons. Why would you accuse us of such a thing?"

"It is in no way meant to be a condemnation of Organians at large, but four point six months ago our vessel had a run-in with a being named Trelane, a young boy who had made Earth, and the study of the life-forms living there, his hobby. Due to his fascination with that planet, he commandeered our vessel and several members of her crew, including the captain. His wish was to keep us and further his studies. Naturally, the captain had other plans, and he went to great lengths to ensure the safety of the Enterprise and her crew, culminating in a one-on-one confrontation with Trelane in the hopes of securing our freedom. As children can often be callous and cruel with regard to others, his treatment of the captain was less than humane; only intervention by the boy's parents saved the captain, and our vessel, from harm. They were energy beings like yourselves, and we believe it is possible that they are Organians. In light of recent events Trelane might have become aware of the captain's location and had cause to detain him yet again. As there is no other logical explanation for his disappearance from the ship, we concluded that this is the most plausible answer. It is our belief that you would be able to confirm the accuracy of our hypothesis, and perhaps render assistance."

"A most interesting theory," Ayelborne acknowledged. "I shall of course look into the matter, but your vessel must remain here, on your side of the Neutral Zone. We will permit no violence between you and the Klingons."

"As our intention was only to contact you and not fuel hostilities between our two governments we shall, of course, comply with the request." Spock turned to the helmsman. "Mister Sulu, all engines stop."

"Aye, sir," the lieutenant acknowledged, the hum of the massive ship's engines falling silent.

"Very good. I shall contact you again once I have more concrete information." And with that, Ayelborne's form faded from the bridge.

A collective sigh sounded throughout the room. McCoy turned to Spock. "Well, now we wait. Good call, Spock."

"On the contrary, Doctor, we are only here based on your recommendation. I must admit that it was an intuitive leap of logic; one that frankly I did not believe you capable of making."

"Yeah, well I didn't have a lot of faith in your bucking the system and doing the right thing, either, but here we are," the doctor replied drolly. "No matter who thought it up, let's just hope it works, for Jim's sake."

oooOOOooo

He awoke to a hand being clapped over his mouth. Struggling to sit up, his fist drawn back ready to strike, the Klingon's face filled his field of vision, a finger pressed to the man's lips warning him to be silent. He dropped his fist, and was rewarded with the hand being withdrawn.

"There's something out there, Kirk; something huge. It's been snuffling around here for several minutes," Kor hissed in a hushed whisper.

Kirk peered out into the gloom, his ears straining to distinguish the sounds of whatever was stalking them from the background noises of the insects of the night.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting cry erupted close by. A cross between a howl and a scream that was almost human, it was a sound Kirk had never heard before. Instinctively, the two jumped back from the mouth of the opening, but could only retreat so far before their backs came up against the stone wall of their little sanctuary.

"We're cornered," Kor muttered angrily. "There's nowhere to run, and we have nothing to defend ourselves with. It seems you were wrong about this Trelane fellow. He may have decided not to bury us under tons of rock, but we're going to die as surely as the sun rises over Qo'noS each day."

Kirk surveyed their surroundings, his mind racing. His eyes came to rest on the stockpile of wood Trelane had so thoughtfully provided. "Here, help me with this," he said, crossing to the pile and grabbing an armful of logs.

"Why? Is your plan to hurl them indiscriminately at the beast? That's only likely to aggravate it further."

"No," Kirk growled through clenched teeth, clearly exasperated. He ran to the fire, tossing his load on the ground next to the substantial inferno that was already ablaze. Selecting a sturdy log, he began spreading out the burning limbs from the existing fire all along the perimeter of the tall, arched opening. Kor was beside him in an instant as he tried to wrench the makeshift poker from the captain's hands.

"What are you doing Kirk—trying to get us killed? That fire is the only thing standing between us and that thing out there!"

"Exactly!" Kirk countered, jerking his arm free of Kor's grip and fixing him with a menacing glare. "So if we spread it out and build it up all along the length of the opening, we can create an impenetrable wall of fire that should keep it out," Kirk explained, hurriedly piling fresh wood from the load he had dropped onto the flaming logs.

"It will also cut off our escape route, should the beast breach your wall of fire," the Klingon pointed out. "We'll be left with nowhere to go," he said, his gaze flicking to the smooth wall at their backs.

"Well, if you have a better idea I'd love to hear it," Kirk responded curtly, single-mindedly continuing to stack the unburnt wood onto the growing blaze and racing back to the pile, scooping up several more large logs. "Me? I'm going with the lesser of two evils; the one that's guaranteed to keep us alive for the time being."

The Klingon's face darkened briefly; became sinister in the glow from the fire, but he sprinted to the pile as well, returning to the ever-lengthening line of fire with a large load of logs which he proceeded to dump atop those sections already burning, fortifying their defenses.

Soon the fire was roaring, encompassing the entire width of the opening, the flames licking toward the heavens.

Sweat pouring off of him, Kirk retreated as far as possible from the heat of the blaze, glad that he was only wearing his regulation black undershirt. Kor followed sullenly, settling himself beside Kirk on the hard ground, peeling off his mud-caked tunic as well. Kirk handed him a stout limb. "For protection, in case they do breach the wall," he explained upon seeing the Klingon's look of confusion. The two sat in silence for some time, their backs resting against the stone wall, watching the flash of light reflected in numerous sets of alien eyes on the other side of their flickering barrier.

"I'm sorry," Kirk blurted out suddenly.

"For what?"

"You were right a while back. You're only here because Trelane has a bone to pick with me. You shouldn't have to suffer on my account."

"Too little, too late," the Klingon said, chuckling to himself. "You know, I've been a warrior for most of my life; been groomed for this since I was a child," Kor stated, his mood sobering quickly. "It is the Klingon way, after all." He glanced at Kirk, wearing a thin look of resignation. "Somehow, I'd always imagined I'd die in battle, for the glory of the Empire, not cowering next to an enemy with no control over my fate."

"What about meeting your Maker alongside a comrade-in-arms?" Kirk asked with conviction.

Kor's eyes widened. It was something he hadn't considered. "I suppose Kahless could be convinced of this."

"Well frankly, I'm hoping it doesn't come to that; and as for not having control, 'There are always alternatives,' as Spock would say."

Kor dropped his gaze, absently picking at the mud on his trousers. "There is a mutual respect, even affection, between you and the Vulcan," he observed quietly.

"Yes," Kirk responded simply.

"How unlike my second-in-command. He would like nothing better than for me to disappear, so he can move up in rank and assume my role as captain." Kor's voice had become thick, ugly. "For all I know, he has already done so."

Kirk had no idea how to respond. That Spock—that the entire crew, in fact—was searching for him was a given, if Trelane was not somehow preventing them from doing so. This knowledge gave him no small measure of comfort, and the will and determination to do whatever it would take to survive. His eyes coming to rest on the Klingon, he opted to let the matter drop. "It's your turn to get some sleep. I'll tend the fire, and wake you if I need you."

"Very well." Leaning his head back against the stone wall and closing his eyes, Kor sighed heavily. Kirk was unsure whether it was due to fatigue or the disquieting nature of their recent conversation.

oooOOOooo

McCoy was pacing the bridge like a Centaurian Ceil Cat stalking its prey, waving off the yeoman who was handing out cups of coffee to the exhausted crew. Even though alpha shift had ended over five hours ago, those personnel who had been on station at the time had refused to relinquish their posts to their relief.

"How long has it been, Spock?" the doctor wanted to know, fatigue and apprehension making his drawl more pronounced than usual.

"Six hours, thirty-seven minutes, twelve point three seconds," the Vulcan supplied without a moment's hesitation.

"Well, what in God's name is taking them so long? I thought they were supposed to be omnipotent."

Spock regarded the doctor with surprise, the tip of an eyebrow coming dangerously close to his bangs. "And why would you think this?" he asked in genuine disbelief.

"Well, they had no trouble at all finding our two fleets yesterday, putting a stop to this insane war before it even began—that in and of itself implies an awareness of the goings-on in this galaxy that's far superior to ours. If they were capable of that, how hard can it be to track down one man?" McCoy had come to a stop beside the command chair, hands clasped behind his back, bouncing on his toes.

"Logically, the Organians would have been able to glean knowledge with regard to the fleets' locations from the minds of those of us on the planet's surface."

"Hah!" McCoy exploded, jabbing a finger at Spock. "I happen to know for a fact that neither you nor Jim knew where our fleet was. It wasn't included in the communiqué Jim received before the two of you beamed down. Sulu had to contact Command to get an exact location," he said, his eyes drifting to the man who had been in charge while the captain and first officer had been occupied on the planet's surface.

Swallowing reflexively, the helmsman corroborated the doctor's story.

"Be that as it may, Command obviously knew the location. Logic dictates that the Organians could have seen in either my mind or the captain's the names of those individuals to whom we answered directly. It follows that they would have used that knowledge to then search those minds for the data they sought. As there is no one, save the being or beings who took the captain who know his whereabouts, it follows that it would take somewhat longer to discover his current location. We must be patient, Doctor."

"That's easy for you to say. It's Jim's life that could very well be on the line." The tactless accusation had caused the blue eyes to harden, reinforced by an accompanying scowl.

A look passed briefly over Spock's face; told the doctor in no uncertain terms that it was not easy for the Vulcan, either.

"Sorry Spock," McCoy said grudgingly, apologetically. "I know it's not your fault." He stopped, clearing his throat. "I'm just worried about Jim," he added softly. "If this doesn't work and the Organians can't find him…"

Their eyes met, Spock stifling the barbed rejoinder that had been about to tumble past his lips. It seemed that he and the captain were not the only ones who could understand each other without uttering a word.

oooOOOooo

"Kor," he called again, louder this time. He was reluctant to touch the man in order to rouse him. Military men had a nasty habit of coming up swinging when awakened unexpectedly.

The Klingon's eyes snapped open, his hand a blur as it reached for the heavy stick at his side. His gaze focusing on Kirk, he noticeably relaxed.

"The fire burned down about a half an hour ago—there's no more wood. However, the creatures left at about the same time. The sun was coming up and I suspect they were nocturnal."

Kor rubbed a dirty hand across his face, wiping away the cobwebs of sleep. "So, we managed to survive the night. I will be interested to see what your friend Trelane has in store for us today."

"I'd suggest exploring the plateau above us, and reinforcing our position. This location seemed to serve us just fine last night, and there are still some coals. We can get the fire going again if we can find some wood."

Kor's look became one of grudging acknowledgment as he climbed to his feet, yawning widely, stretching the stiffness from his limbs until the joints popped. "I could also do with a bit of breakfast," he said contritely, in response to the loud growling noises coming from his midsection.

"There's still some fruit left," Kirk said, his look smug as he jabbed a finger over his shoulder at the half-full bag on the ground beside the smoldering remnants of the fire.

"Thank you, no," Kor intoned, his eyes settling on the makeshift club at his feet. "I was hoping we might find something more substantial today; something of the four-legged variety—or beasts with however many limbs your friend sees fit to give them." He smacked his silver tunic against the back wall, beating what remnants of dust and mud out of it that he could before slipping it over his head.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to look for our next meal, in addition to fuel for the fire," Kirk conceded. "I've had my fill of that god-awful stuff as well."

Kor slapped him roughly on the shoulder, almost causing the captain to lose his footing. "How fortunate that, for once, we are in agreement; lead on, Kirk," the Klingon said magnanimously. Gesturing to the mouth of the depression he bent to retrieve the sturdy stick at his feet.

The two emerged into bright sunlight, the temperature already on the rise. Kirk proceeded up the narrow path they had been following the day before, soon reaching the summit of the alien mesa, Kor's footfalls heavy and steady behind him.

Like the terrain they had just traversed, the vegetation here was sparse, and stunted. It would provide little in the way of fuel, and even less with regard to habitats for the small animals they'd be likely to catch, armed only with their crude clubs. "Maybe we should consider moving on," Kirk remarked, surveying their surroundings with no small measure of disappointment.

"I would agree with you, Kirk, except that we seem to be trapped up here. Literally, the only path down is the way we came." Kor had moved close to the edge of the sheer cliff that surrounded the flat plateau on all sides, surveying the land that stretched out several hundred meters below them.

Kirk joined him, taking in the sight as well. "We could take our chances in the forest again; maybe rig up something so that we can shelter in the trees, above ground tonight. At least then we'll have access to wood for the fire, and won't have to spend the better part of the day hauling it up this mountain."

Kor turned to Kirk, about to comment on that suggestion, when all hell broke loose. Hearing a screech from above, both men hesitated for an instant, rooted to the spot as their eyes drifted skyward.

Bearing down on them was the biggest winged creature Kirk had ever seen. Devoid of feathers, it did have the long, sinewy neck characteristic of the giant eel-birds of Regulus V, but the leathery, dark green skin was thick and coarse, resembling more than anything a crocodile native to the Southern reaches of the United States. The snout was similar as well, the immense jaws unhinging to reveal a row of sharp, fifteen-centimeter-long fangs as it dove from the sky. Pushing the Klingon before him, Kirk steered them toward a dense, low grouping of sturdy shrubs. It would not provide cover for long, but should give them time to regroup after the beast made its first pass.

Unfortunately, they never reached it—swept off their feet by the massive rush of air from the gigantic wings, the two tumbled end over end, blown at last over the edge of the cliff. So much for Ayelborne's prophecy that the Klingons and Federation would become fast friends; this first effort at a truce was destined to end in a miserable failure. Trelane had seen to that.

In free-fall, the wind tearing at him, Kirk glanced over at the Klingon plunging earthward beside him and railed silently at the sheer senselessness of it all. Uttering a string of oaths that were instantly whipped away by the whistling wind, he closed his eyes as the ground rushed ever closer. Kor's words rang in his head: "I'd always imagined I'd die in battle…" Although not seeking the personal glory that was so important to the Klingon, he'd at least believed that when he was called upon to make ultimate sacrifice, it would have some meaning; that his death would make a difference somehow. That was certainly not the case here. Despite the situation, a derisive laugh was torn from his throat. It was a bitter, unpleasant sound. On some level, he hoped that Trelane would at least appreciate the irony.

He landed with a resounding thud, confused by the stunned exclamations that erupted around him, shocked to discover that he was uninjured. Opening his eyes, he was met with the gray, metal deck of his ship.

"Captain!" Spock exclaimed, rushing to his side and helping him to his feet. But Kirk only had eyes for the floor below. "Kor; where's Kor?" he shouted, his gaze now roaming the circular room.

"Sir?" Spock asked, his further words interrupted by a booming voice.

"He is safe, Captain, returned to the bridge of his ship as well."

"Ayelborne?" Kirk asked as the Organian's from once more materialized before the viewscreen. "How? Why?"

"You have your crew to thank for our assistance, Captain. They forced my hand, so to speak, enlisting my services in the search for you."

"But how did you know?" Kirk asked, glancing at the Vulcan at his side.

"When we discovered you were no longer on board, we surmised that only an Organian would have been capable of removing you, sir."

"But they weren't responsible. It was Trelane." His gaze traveled to Ayelborne once again. "Unless he's one of you," the captain stated with certainty.

"Not an Organian per se, but a being of a similar race. An offshoot of our civilization, much like the Romulans are descended from Vulcan blood."

Spock lifted an eyebrow at the comment, clasping his hands behind his back, addressing the Organian. "Be that as it may, sir, what guarantee do we have that this vessel will not be subjected to a similar incident in the future? This is the second time that Trelane has caused difficulties for the Enterprise."

"I personally spoke to the boy's parents," Ayelborne assured him, "indicating in the strongest way possible that this type of behavior from their son is totally unacceptable. Now that we are aware of this, we can watch for and prevent future incidents, but his parents have assured me that they now have the situation under control. I should be most surprised if we see a repeat of these types of activities from the boy."

"Thank you, Ayelborne," Kirk said distractedly, dismissively. "We greatly appreciate that, but what about Kor? Odds are Trelane's upset with him now, too. He should not be punished for my mistakes."

"We shall, of course, protect the Klingons the same as we are protecting you. As I stated before, he is unharmed, but if it will put your mind at ease, I shall permit you to speak with him, despite the fact that your vessels are well out of communication range."

The viewscreen dissolved into an image of the bridge of a Klingon Bird of Prey, Kor seated comfortably in the captain's chair.

"Commander," Kirk said, addressing the stocky figure. "I see that all is well, and that you have been returned to your ship in one piece."

"No thanks to you, Kirk," the Klingon snarled, but the look in his eyes did not match his tone.

Kirk understood the Klingon's motivation only too well. He played along. "On the contrary, it was my crew who contacted the Organians, thus facilitating our rescue. If it weren't for us humans, you'd be a bloody splotch at the bottom of an alien cliff right about now."

"Indeed? Need I remind you that if it hadn't been for you, I would not have been in that situation in the first place."

"Well I don't know what situation the two of you were in, so someone please feel free to enlighten me," McCoy interjected hotly.

"It seems Trelane was disappointed to see the war halted, and decided to use me and Kor to continue it," Kirk supplied.

"You mean he forced you to fight one another? And you're both still standing?" McCoy's shock was almost palpable.

"That was his intention, but I quickly realized there was no gain in it for me. I've got my own reasons for hating humans; I don't need a third party to tell me what to do."

"We both came to understand that it was in our best interest to work together, rather than let Trelane run the show," Kirk translated.

"And I must point out that this indeed proves what your two races are capable of, when you act as friends, rather than foes, Commander," Ayelborne added. "As I said before, in the future you and the Federation will become fast friends. You may wish to consider your and Captain Kirk's little adventure as a trial run for what is to come."

"Nonsense," the Klingon scoffed. "Kirk and I could never be friends," he barked loudly, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Kirk found himself grinning in response. "I couldn't agree more, Commander," he said, meeting the Klingon's gaze as a silent message passed between them.

"Again gentlemen, I apologize for the distress Trelane has caused you both. This time I can guarantee you with certainty that it will not happen again," Ayelborne interrupted. "And now I must take my leave of you." The humanoid form began to glow, emitting a bright light as the body shrank into itself, finally dissolving in a blaze of radiance which dimmed quickly as Ayelborne departed.

Once his vision had cleared, Kirk's eyes were inexorably drawn to the viewscreen. "Watch your back, Commander," he cautioned cryptically, noting the antagonistic stance of the Klingon officers visible behind Kor.

"I shall. Forgive me if I do not offer you the same bit of advice. I can see that yours is already well-protected."

Kirk's grin widened as he glanced over his shoulder at the taller man behind him. Yes; yes it is," he acknowledged.

"Sir?" Spock asked, his gaze shifting to his captain's face.

Kirk dismissed the question with the wave of a hand. "Never mind. I'll explain it to you later."

"And so, I, too Captain, bid you farewell once again," Kor said, eyes alive with impudence. "I still think a war between our two galactic powers would have been glorious, and that we would have thoroughly defeated you," he added in mock derision.

"That still remains to be seen, provided the Organians give us the opportunity to find out someday."

Kor's grin deepened. "And now Captain, warrior to warrior, I wish you success until we meet again."

"I look forward to it, Commander," Kirk answered without hesitation, a glint in his eyes as well.

"You know what they say, Kirk—be careful what you wish for." And with that, the screen went dark.

Kirk breathed a sigh of relief. At the moment, he was unsure of what to think, or even what he felt, beyond profound relief that he would not have the Klingon's death on his conscience. What the future held for them—for their two differing ideologies, in fact—was still uncertain, but he most assuredly had a new perspective on the man he had been so quick to judge a few days ago. An unbelievably, he had Trelane to thank for that. The universe works in mysterious ways, indeed, he thought, as McCoy came to join him and Spock, resting a hand on the black-clad shoulder.

"You okay, Jim?"

"None the worse for wear, except that I'm starving and could use a good shower."

"That's not what I meant," McCoy said, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You just spent the better part of a day with the enemy; from what you told me a few days ago, that man is a piece of work."

"That remains to be seen, Bones," the captain replied, a strange look in his eye. "Let's just say it was an interesting experience, but it's good to be home."