Malum Prohibitum
By: Wildfire Sky
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my mind and my soul...both of which are up for grabs to the highest bidder.
A/N: My first Star Trek fic, but certainly not my first fanfic overall. I have a habit of being vague as far as the situation in the first chapter of my stories…and I usually focus on the supporting characters as much as I do the main characters. It's a habit of mine. But don't worry, you will get plenty of Spock x Uhura. I didn't put my story in this category for shits and giggles. :)
Update: I corrected a few chronological errors that were confusing some of the readers.
Malum Prohibitum
Chapter One: The Ambassador
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Admiral Gregory Lord glared down the length of the meeting table with barely concealed disdain, his fifty-four year old body tense as he leaned forward, folding his hands on top of the table. The other admirals and vice admirals around him remained still, the expressions on their faces a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and outrage, looking back and forth between Admiral Lord and their "guests" seated at the far end on the conference room.
It was on very few occasions that someone had the audacity to come before his council and demand what these so-called ambassadors were demanding, especially in the wake of one of the most tragic military engagements in Starfleet history.
It's been just over a month since Nero's insane attack on the Federation. The recovered bodies of Starfleet cadets and officers had only arrived from the Vulcan area two days ago. Funeral preparations and the scheduling of memorial ceremonies were still underway, and these diplomats – Lord had a more colorful name for them – arrived on the front door step of the Academy, demanding an audience with men and women who clearly could not afford to waste time with such distasteful interruptions.
His fingers flexed against each other in a tight fist as his hard gaze shifted to a rather nervous looking Romulan: Ambassador Avell R'Mor.
It had been Avell who had contacted Lord personally, requesting, on behalf of the Romulan Empire, a meeting with the heads of Starfleet in an effort to eradicate any misgivings between the Federation and the Romulans over the events that had recently transpired.
Admiral Lord had at first graciously welcomed the offer, being that he and Avell were, in fact, close friends. So close, that the Romulan had come to Earth many a time not only to visit the Admiral, but also in the hopes of establishing an embassy on Earth and solidifying an alliance between Romulus and the Federation at long last.
That was how Admiral Lord had foreseen this meeting. A final agreement between Federation and Romulus to bring their worlds closer, that is how it should have gone. But almost from the moment the Romulan starship transferred her living cargo to San Francisco, Lord had sensed something was wrong.
Dealing with the stand-offish Romulans was nothing new. His first encounter with Avell had ended in a heated, nearly physical, argument that left both men furious and declared mortal enemies.
He'd been a hard-nosed lieutenant commander at the time; a thirty-four year old fresh out of the Academy, with a fast temper and a wide, stubborn streak. They'd met when the ship he'd been assigned to made contact with a Romulan science shuttle. Almost instantly, the two had clashed. Since both were of the same frame of mind, one backing down to the other hadn't been an option…even though the argument was over something as pointless as the proper pronunciation of Avell's full name. It was only through years of brief exchanges that the two finally warmed to each other.
Lord had been expecting to use this same, stubborn approach with the other ambassadors. It seemed Romulans responded best to those who didn't back down and seemed capable of handling themselves in a scuff.
Despite his age, Lord kept his body in supreme shape. Exercise was a daily regimen, often encompassing taking recruits through their morning and evening physical training sessions, turning what was an already unpleasant and difficult task into a literal hell.
Because of this, his shoulders were broad and developed, along with the rest of his body, and he carried himself with all the confident of a professional fighter. Lord took it all in stride, using his strength to get what he needed, quickly, from whomever he asked. And with Romulans - a race proud of their own personal strength - he had to act with the utmost confidence in himself. It was the only way to get them to listen to reason…unlike their Vulcan cousins who swam in reason and logic and were much more responsive.
But it seemed that for all his efforts, no amount of intimidation was enough. Right now, they were careening down a path of terrible consequences and Lord was almost certain that they didn't care, so long as they got their way.
Leaning forward, Lord opened his hands, placing his palms down on the polished, black marble table. Staring each ambassador directly in the eyes, Lord spoke slowly and carefully so there would be no mistake in what he was about to say.
"Have you lost your goddamn minds?" His gruff, deep voice boomed through the room.
Avell stiffened, his eyes flashing to his fellow Romulans briefly before settling back on Lord's terse expression. With a barely perceived shake of his head in warning, the Romulan spoke, his voice very gentle and soft spoken; a rarity for the normally brazen species.
"I understand your misgivings about this situation, Admiral Lord, but this is a course that the Romulan Empire cannot stray from. The demand for justice by our people is absolute and unquestionable. Your assistance in the matter would be greatly appreciated."
Lord was shaking his head before Avell had even finished, his heavy blue eyes flashing angrily. "Your people have no cause, no basis, for what they are asking that we do. There is no reasoning that you've given justifying your request, and as such, I must refuse it."
Another ambassador – his name escaped Lord at the moment – leaned forward, dark eyes challenging. "There is plenty of reasoning, Admiral Lord. You simply fail to see it. Unsurprising for a human."
"Then please, do tell. Dumb it down for my slow, human brain." The words came out in a bite, daring the Romulan to even attempt such a foolish thing.
Sneering across the table, the Romulan moved to oblige the furious Admiral when Avell cut him off.
"Admiral, please. We do not wish for this to become any more volatile than it has to be." He sent a sharp look in the direction of his comrade, "We don't mean to insult your intelligence, but as I'm sure you are aware, this is a tense time for everyone."
"And this ridiculous request is not helping."
"I'm sure it isn't," Avell offered a thin smile, "But it comes at the behest of one higher than any of us. Our great Praetor."
"Than any Romulan." Lord snapped his expression fierce, "As far as I'm concerned, your hierarchy does not carry outside of your system, so don't try and use it to humble me into submission."
"Of course." Avell frowned, staring at Lord insistently, "My apologies…Admiral Lord."
The apology was meant for him, specifically. Not in regard to the behavior of his fellow Romulans, but because Avell was being forced to do this. Although Lord regretted that his dear friend had been put in this situation, he could not budge. They were simply asking for too much at the wrong time and friendship or not, he could not overlook it.
A Vice Admiral to Lord's right leaned forward, her sharp green orbs eyeing the Romulan ambassador like a wolf ready to pounce. "Personally, I would like to know why the Romulan Empire feels they have the right to demand anything of us right now. After all, this tragedy was made in your name."
"Nero did not speak on behalf of the Romulan Empire!" snarled the same nameless Romulan ambassador. "His actions were not endorsed by our council."
"And yet you come here demanding revenge for his demise." The Vice Admiral countered, "Your reasoning is incredibly flawed."
Avell took a deep breath. This would never end. "Allow me to clarify. We do not demand this because of the death of Nero. He was an embarrassment to the Romulan Empire and if you had contacted us sooner, we would have assisted in his capture. However, our Empire wishes to address the events leading up to Nero's attack. And for that reason we have made this demand. It is because of Spock that Romulus is destroyed. He must stand trial to answer for this blow to our people…and to prevent the any retaliation from occurring against our people by the Vulcans." His eyes turned cold, his voice filled with dark determination.
Lord shook his head vehemently. "I cannot condone the surrender of one of our best commanders to a foreign species just because they don't like someone."
"He is not a Terran. Why should you care about his fate?"
"He lives, works and associates with humans effectively and has allied himself with the Federation providing an unmatched service to all of us. Therefore, he is under our protection and our laws. Should he retaliate - and I'm more than certain he would not - he would face our trials and our justice. Not yours."
Avell stared at Admiral Lord, his eyes seeming even darker as he spoke in a low voice seeping with warning. "Admiral Lord I urge you to reconsider. Any refusal will not be met with kindness and it would be wise for the Federation to avoid any confrontational situations. Especially with your fleet handicapped and so few recruits available. The engagement could have disastrous consequences."
The room was dead silent as both officers and ambassadors stared across the table at the Avell, shock clearly evident. Avell kept his gaze firmly on the Admiral, trying to judge how his old friend would react. The words that had just come from his mouth came from the Praetor himself and were to be used only in the most urgent of negotiations. His fellow ambassadors were unaware that much more than justice hinged on the demands of their empire being met. Hopefully, they would have the effect the Romulans were hoping for.
Slowly all eyes turned to Admiral Lord. The Admiral's back was snapped upright, fists clenched tightly as he literally bristled. His voice dropped to a dangerous level as he growled: "Did you just threaten me, Avell?"
The lack of his proper title immediately put the ambassador on edge, "Admiral…"
The old war dog shot to his feet with an agility that was surprising for his age. Slamming his fist down on the table, his voice roared out, cutting off whatever feeble words Avell might have spoken.
"I have made my decision! Commander Spock will not be handed over to the Romulan Empire. Not now, not ever. Furthermore, any attempt by the Romulan Empire to take him by force will be met with the full and swift intervention of the Federation. This is final and these negotiations are over." Avell opened his mouth to rebuke the Admiral's decision, but Lord silenced him once again with a glare and a finger jabbed in his direction, "As for you, Ambassador Avell, I would like a word with you in my office. Now."
Avell blinked, casting his ambassadors a cautious look. "Admiral Lord, I don't think that…"
"That wasn't a request!" Lord barked, motioning to the two guards by the meeting hall doors, "Escort Ambassador Avell to my quarters immediately."
A clipped 'yes, sir' was the only response offered to the fuming Admiral as the guards stepped around the conference table, standing silently on either side of Avell. The other Romulan ambassadors surged to their feet, their angry outbursts filling the room with Romulan tongue. It was incomprehensible, at least, to the majority of the Admirals and Vice-Admirals gathered that depended on the highly specialized xenolinguists to translate.
However, having a close relationship to Avell for years, Gregory Lord was intimately engrossed in the language and could speak and understand it almost as fluently has English. So he had the privilege of catching every word the Ambassadors said…every threat, every insult, every hate-filled promise of demise and the end of all time. It was a load of hot air, as far as he and the Federation was concerned.
Romulan ambassadors were the same as human ambassadors. They were full of it.
Instead of silencing his fellow Romulans, Avell simply watched Lord carefully, putting up no resistance as the cadets requested that he follow them to Lord's officer. Avell knew where it was. Often, when he came to the Academy to visit, he would go the Gregory's office to catch up on the news and to remember old times. Unfortunately, he knew this visit would have no such pleasure associated with it.
With a quick snap in Romulan to his ambassadors to silence themselves, Avell turned with as much dignity and confidence as he could muster and followed the guards from the meeting room and up two flights by elevator to the fifth floor where the private quarters of Admiral Lord were built.
It was an impressive area - half of an entire floor dedicated solely to the use and purpose of one man. A symbol of Lord's massive base of power. It wasn't just that the Admiral was one of Starfleet's top; he also came from an extremely wealthy and powerful political family. His history and personality made Admiral Lord one of the most imposing men in Starfleet. And such power came with broad and obvious benefits.
The Admiral's personal secretary of twenty years sat at a single desk next to a pair of large doors, her eyes focused on the flat computer screen in front of her. Not once did she look up as the lift signaled the group's arrival. She was used to receiving 'guests' that weren't guests. She didn't ask questions but simply admitted those who should be admitted.
The guards crossed the large entry way, pausing in front of the double doors leading into the Admiral's private quarters and swinging them open to allow access. Avell barely crossed the thresh hold when the lift let out a second pleasant chime and Admiral Lord came thundering out like a mad-man with a purpose.
His secretary continued to stare at her screen as the Admiral approached.
"No interruptions, Abigail!!"
"Good morning to you too, Greg."
He rolled past like a tornado, tossing his PADD in her direction. Abigail nimbly caught it with one hand and placed it on her desk without missing a beat, eyes still locked on her screen. The attitude was nothing new.
Barely acknowledging the two cadets who jumped back and to attention, Lord came forward like an imposing force into his office.
"Sit." He commanded in a voice that demanded immediate obedience. Looking over his shoulder at the two cadets, Lord jerked his head towards the lift. "Dismissed."
Snapping off a quick salute, the cadets pulled the office doors closed before taking off towards the turbo lift as quickly, and quietly, as they could.
Avell stood rooted in place in the middle of the room, watching the Admiral with a calculating eye. Ignoring the hard stare, Lord moved towards his desk, brushing past the Romulan without as much as a glance.
"You're upset."
Admiral Lord snorted, his lack of reply practically shouting 'no, duh'.
Avell let out a long needed sigh as he walked to the massive work desk, planting his hands firmly on the wood and leaning towards the now seated human. "Listen to me, Gregory…I don't have a choice. When our Praetor wants something done, and I am ordered to do it, I will. Just like you would, should our positions be switched."
"And you would do the same thing I am and refuse." Lord looked up at his old friend, his normally cold eyes betraying his confusion. "Why didn't you come to me first? Before all this? We could have talked about this in a much more private situation." Lord's eyes flicked towards the chair in front of his desk and he scowled. "I believe I said for you to sit."
Avell looked around the empty room as he sat in one of the chairs before the desk. "This is private enough."
"All hope of privacy ended the moment you brought your Romulan friends into my building." He shook his head in disbelief, "Avell…we've been friends for how long?"
"Almost twenty years."
"Twenty years…" the Admiral repeated slowly, "Twenty years of friendship and this is the first time that I've truly wondered just what the hell is wrong with you. And there have more than enough situations that should have brought that thought to the front of my mind."
Avell offered a small smile, "Same here."
Lord's face broke into a smile, "True. We've have some rather…interesting encounters over the years. Remember when we ran into that Klingon armada just outside of the A-25 star cluster? Five war birds against our one ship…"
"Yes, I recall that particular incident. I was an unlucky visitor on board. Completely unaware I was in the hands of a mad man. I distinctly recall what you said when the Klingon captain demanded the surrender of your vessel." Avell tilted his head to one side, his eyes filled with mirth, "I'm almost certain you weren't aware of what you were saying."
"I wasn't." Lord admitted with a shrug, "I was thirty-two years old and just got my bars and my first command. I wasn't about to let some ridge-faced freak of nature take my new baby for a joy ride around the galaxy. Admiral Tecora would have killed me. Anyways, as I recall, you were the one who taught it to me."
"To use in your bars as an insult to other human men, not on the battlefield against a Klingon! They are very proud of their mothers."
Admiral Lord let out a roar of a laugh, leaning back in his seat. "Well it worked, didn't it?"
"For better or worse, I suppose so. I still have the scars from that little engagement." Avell smirked as he rubbed his stomach over one such scar, remembering days long past when it seemed the two often enjoyed each other's company. But now things were falling apart. All because of a single order he had to obey. Best friends or not, to Avell the orders of the Romulan Praetor and the Empire were above all else.
As Lord's laughter died, the large man released a puff of air and gave a small shake of his head. "Avell…I want to apologize. I truly am sorry for this…for what you're going to have to tell your Praetor."
"…You still refuse?"
"I have no choice!" Lord exclaimed waving a hand around the room, "Look around you! You're on Earth, at the Federation's Headquarters and Academy, demanding that not only do I hand over one of my best officers to Romulans, but that I hand him over not two weeks after half of the cadets stationed here were obliterated by Nero. A Romulan. And why? Because your Praetor is paranoid that Commander Spock will come back for some half-assed attempt at revenge."
"Our governance has determined that Commander Spock must face justice for allowing our home to be destroyed, even if it happened in the past-future. It happened without consequences towards him, but then, we Romulans are being held responsible for the destruction of Vulcan. As for the Vulcan's revenge…that is the Praetor's personal belief. It seems reasonable for our Praetor to fear vengeance. The Commander's planet was just destroyed and the Vulcans are now a nearly extinct species." Avell frowned slightly, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't his mother die as well?"
Lord's eyes narrowed. "I will not answer that and I suggest you put it out of your mind."
Avell ignored the veiled threat, "I can see no greater reason for revenge than avenging your family. Vulcan or not, watching your own blood die in such a way will certainly evoke an emotional response from even the most emotionless people."
"Avell, I'm not kidding. Drop it."
"Why do you defend them?" Avell hissed, his frustration growing, "Vulcans despise humans. They think of you as nothing more than hyper-active animals with too many dreams and not enough self-control! And yet, at every turn you look to them as friends and allies. Don't you ever wonder why, in all the hundreds of years the Federation has existed, only one Vulcan has ever joined your ranks?"
"Vulcan is a founding member of the Federation and…"
"It's because they look at Star Fleet as a joke. They let you humans carry on with it because they helped start it first place, and that's the only reason why they haven't left. Because they are too proud to admit that maybe they initiated something illogical."
"Avell…" The Admiral's voice was tense, "You're treading on thin ice…"
"Personally, I still wonder what the point of the Federation is. It seems to me like an attempt by Vulcan to gain control of planetary systems under the guise of protection and peace. And you humans played right into it. Vulcan's aren't stupid. They don't do things without a purpose. No species is so noble as to want universal peace and not take a little bit for themselves."
"That's enough!" Lord sat stiff, his fists clenching on the desk top. "Are you quite finished?"
The Romulan huffed, sitting back and leveling his own glare at the stubborn human. "If you're not going to listen, then yes, I suppose I am now."
"Good. Because to be perfectly honest, you haven't said not one word that will make me change my mind. I'm fully aware of the Vulcan's outlook on humans, but that doesn't matter right now. What matters is that you want me to condemn Commander Spock to death on a non-Federation planet that has absolutely no justification for revenge. I will not be a part of a Romulan witch-hunt against an already endangered species because you're pissed." Lord's eyes softened, "Look, nothing will prevent a star from blowing up. But Avell I promise you…I will do everything in my power to keep Commander Spock from enacting any sort of revenge against Romulus or her people."
Avell released a barely concealed snort of disbelief, "An impossible promise. You can't monitor him at all times."
Lord smirked, "That's the difference with Vulcans…they obey commands and are loyal. That's what makes them so…useful."
They? Loyal? For a micro-second, a confused look flashed across Avell's face before he reeled back like he'd been hit. Anger returned to his eyes in a furious blaze.
"You…you think that I'm disloyal? That I'm betraying you?"
"Well, I think you're not thinking. But that's not what I mea--"
Avell bristled as he shot to his feet, his teeth and fists clenched in fury as he struggled to force out his words. "I am your friend, Gregory. I am your closest ally and I am your brother. That will never change. But you must understand that above all else, I am Romulan. And Romulans have a loyalty that neither you nor your Vulcan friends could possibly understand." He spat out the word 'Vulcan' like it was a curse. "For you to sit there and call me a traitor because I am loyal to my own blood and people…it's…it's disgusting!"
Lord raised a hand in an attempt to calm, already regretting his poorly chosen words, "Avell, please sit down. I didn't mean to insult you."
"Areinnye'n-hnah!!"
The Admiral's eyes narrowed dangerously as the curse and flecks of spittle flew from Avell's mouth.
"Avell! Damn it, would you just listen to me!"
Lord's hard voice broke through the angry fog that had clouded Avell's mind. Slowly, the Romulan's tense body began to relax although his eyes remained hard. Lord waited for a brief moment before continuing.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't calling you, or your people, traitors or disloyal. As you said, we are like brothers…v'Dianvm. You're closer to me than my own family. I am merely stating that Vulcans have a rather uncanny need to obey orders from their superiors to the mark. Something that even we humans severely lack." He smirked, "I'm sure it must be a 'logic' thing."
Avell slowly sank into his chair, taking deep, calming breaths and nodding at Lord to continue.
"With that being said, I made the remark simply to say that if I order Commander Spock to stay away from Romulus…"
"And Remus." Avell amended.
"Uh, yes…and Remus…" Lord blinked, but consented, "…then he will do so with little, if any objection."
Avell sat silently, his cold eyes scanning Lord's face for any deception or trickery. Lord stared back with a solid, confident gaze, leaving no room for question. Slowly, Avell released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and adjusted the crimson robes signifying him as a Romulan ambassador. He was here to represent the Empire and would act accordingly. The words came out carefully and unhurriedly.
"I have your word you will order Commander Spock to remain away from Romulan space?"
Lord offered Avell a sharp nod. "Yes, so long as it doesn't interfere with official duty. You have my word as both a Star Fleet Admiral…and your closest friend."
"And," Avell locked eyes with Lord, unmoved by the sentiment, "if Commander Spock does enter Romulan space without undue need, or intends to do harm against any Romulan for vengeful purposes…do I have your word that you will either allow us to apprehend him or he will be surrendered by Star Fleet Command to Romulus?"
A sigh. "You sure are pushing your luck with me, Avell. He's part of the Federation and he has a job to do. Sometimes our missions…"
"This is the only way I can convince the Praetor to agree to this. You can't simply leave Romulus defenseless should he conveniently wander into our system. We will not consent to that."
Lord took a long, deep, calming breath, releasing it in a frustrated sigh. "…Fine. I will agree. But, Romulus must alert Star Fleet command of any such violation prior to his arrest. If he's there for aid or on the basis of a mission, and is arrested before our immediate notification, his capture will be seen as a kidnapping – not law enforcement – and Star Fleet will react accordingly."
"Reasonable enough for me." The ambassador nodded his agreement, climbing to his feet and straightening the front of his robe, "And we agree to have these terms implemented immediately."
Lord grunted in affirmation. "Within the hour."
He would have to send notice to the Fleet Admiral immediately. It was only through luck and careful maneuvering that Lord found himself the Chief of Starfleet Intelligence. It made dealings such as these much easier when he didn't have to deal with the red tape.
Sighing with relief, Avell offered his long friend a smile, "Thank you, Gregory. I will depart to Romulus and present our Praetor with this agreement at once. I'm sure he'll find it adequate, but if there are any issues that might cause a dilemma, you'll be the first to know."
Not expecting an answer, Avell stood, gave Admiral Lord a short nod of respect, and turned on his heel to leave. But just as he reached out to open the office door, Lord's gruff voice reached his sensitive ears.
"Ambassador Avell."
The Romulan paused, turning towards the piercing stare of his friend. "Yes, Admiral?"
"Don't do this again."
Another nod as he opened the door. "Understood, Admiral. Jolan'Tru."
MP**MP**MP**MP**MP
Abigail finally looked up from her station as the Romulan Ambassador strode from the room. "Good morning, Ambassador Avell. I haven't seen you in a while."
Avell approached the desk with a wide grin. "Indeed, Missus Stone. You look as young as the first day I met you."
"I've told you before, called me Abigail. Missus makes me feel older than the sixty-three I really am."
"Only if you call me Avell, as I've requested." A smooth smirk slid across his face, "And as you humans might say: you age like the finest wine, dear Abigail."
Abigail waved a dismissive hand, standing up with a stack of PADDs stuck under one arm. "Oh, get away, you. You need to rub a little of that charm of Gregory. Maybe he'll stop going through so many wives."
"There is no amount of anything that I could give him to make his personal life cease being the ever impressive disaster it is. Besides, if I did that, he would no longer be the Gregory we both know so well. Can you imagine what he would be like? Charming? Polite? Please."
For a moment, Abigail considered this, and then shook her head with a mock shudder. "You're right. The thought of him smiling and being civil and acting like a proper gentleman is enough to make me feel ill." Shifting the PADDs, she gave Avell a warm smile. "Alright, young man, time for you to leave. He…" she nodded towards the slightly ajar door, "has about three days worth of work to catch up on. And thanks to you, it will be a miracle if I can get him settled enough to start."
Avell inclined his head in respect and farewell. "Then I'll leave you to it. Jolan'Tru, Abigail."
"Jolan'Tru, Avell."
Abigail made her way through the office doors, securing them behind her before moving towards Admiral Lord. Even from across the room, she could tell he was seething.
"It takes more muscles to frown then smile." She chided gently, setting the stack of PADDs down next to his clenched left fist.
A small snort escaped Lord's nostrils.
"Thanks, mother." He grunted sarcastically, "The next time I need an anatomy lesson, I'll come straight to you."
"Don't speak that way to me, young man!" Abigail mockingly warned, her voice light, "I haven't done anything. You brought this all on yourself."
Gregory's eyes slid up to her face as he snatched the first tablet from the top of the pile. "You were eaves-dropping?"
"I didn't have to, Gregory. The two of you were shouting so loud, there was hardly an effort on my part. You should be thankful the other offices on this floor are empty."
"They're empty for a reason, Abigail. In my profession, neighbors are a bad mix." Lord's eyes dropped to the new data screen. "What's this?"
"Sign it."
"What the hell is it?"
"Will you please just sign it, Gregory? It's nothing worth arguing about."
With an irritated grunt, Lord picked up a stylus from his desk top and signed his name across the bottom of the last data sheet with a flourish. "I didn't just sell my soul, did I?"
"I didn't know you had one to sell." A sly smile ghosted across the old woman's lips at Lord's scowl and she handed him the next PADD. "Now, this one you might want to look over. It's from Admiral Pike requesting a change in mission parameters for one of the starships. A Code 47, Classified: Alpha."
A bushy eyebrow quirked up as he accepted the PADD, his grey eyes scanning the digital document carefully. With each sentence, each word, Lord felt the anxiety grow within him. His nightmare of a day was quickly spiraling into a hell hole of bad luck and terrible timing.
"Has he already sent this to the office of Admiral Maxwell?"
"Yes. Both Fleet Admiral Maxwell and Admiral Barnett have approved," Abigail's face was curious. "You're only obligated to acknowledge the request that we are sending a starship into the Romulan Neutral Zone as the Chief of Starfleet Intelligence. Then it will be official."
Lord's face darkened. Since when did Pike have the authority – or the influence - to change and assign missions to Starfleet vessels? It would require further investigation at a much later time. Right now, Gregory's mind was occupied with the fact that an impending conflict was about to erupt before his very eyes. Avell had left his office not twenty minutes ago and was undoubtedly contacting his Praetor at this very moment. To say they would be mad when they found out was a gross understatement.
He wouldn't sign it. He would speak with Fleet Admiral Maxwell and convince him to send another ship – any other ship – to the Neutral Zone. Any ship but the Enterprise…
"Greg?" Abigail was staring at him, "This needs to be signed right away. Admiral Maxwell wants transmission to the Enterprise within the hour."
Lord's throat suddenly felt dry.
He had to do something. Refusal was impossible as long as it had the Fleet Admiral's approval. But…there may still be a way to salvage this disaster.
Clearing his throat, Lord looked up at Abigail, his ever familiar scowl back in place.
"Connect me to Admiral Barnett."
MP**MP**MP**MP**MP
Christopher Pike sat across from Richard Barnett, enjoying a welcome break from the rigors of command. He carefully observed the near empty chess board in front of him, a single finger toying with the obsidian knight piece beneath it before he finally picked it up and began to place it.
"You don't want to do that."
Pike's eyes flicked up to Admiral Barnett's, hand frozen over the board. "Why not?"
Barnett shrugged one shoulder. "You just don't."
"You're trying to bullshit me." Pike smirked, continuing to place his piece.
"Alright. It's your funeral."
With a loud sigh, Pike moved his piece back to its original spot and picked up his bishop.
"You don't want to do that, either."
"Oh, for the love of—I know what I'm doing!" Pike glared across the board at his grinning friend.
"I'm only trying to help. You don't seem like the 'chess' type." Barnett leaned back into his office sofa.
Ignoring Barnett's underhanded warnings, Pike placed his bishop and leaned into his own couch, crossing his arms across his chest and flashing a victorious grin. "There! How about that?"
Barnett inclined his head and moved with an almost bored expression. "Check."
"Wha—How?" Sputtering, Pike blinked at the chess board, his face turning a light shade of red in frustration. Barnett simply settled into his chair, brought a glass of cool water to his lips as he watched his subordinate flounder.
It was an almost daily occurrence for one of them to grace the other's office for lunch, usually engaging in a game of poker or chess, if time permitted, to allow their busied minds a break from the every day.
There was a silent agreement between the two of them: absolutely no business during lunch. No talk of missions, or politics, or duty, or anything that had to do with Starfleet.
It was the only way to stay sane in this backwards world.
Christopher was still studying the chess board when Barnett's secretary knocked on the door.
"Enter!" Barnett's voice called as he continued to watch the flustered Pike with growing amusement. A young male cadet strode into the room, snapping off a smart salute in the Admirals direction. Barnett gave the creature a dismissive wave, "At ease, cadet. What is it?"
"Admiral Lord is standing by on call, sir." The cadet glanced in Pike's direction, "Would you…like me to tell him you're in a meeting?"
Pike huffed to himself, "I can only imagine what this must be about…"
"Can you?" Barnett asked, an eyebrow shooting up, "Because I haven't the first idea. Although, I'm more than certain Admiral Lord will make his reasoning abundantly clear."
Shrugging, Pike stood up and gave Admiral Barnett a departing nod. "I'll excuse myself, Admiral. It's quite possible he would like to speak with you about the USS Enterprise and it would be inappropriate for me to be here."
"Absolutely not." Barnett steeled Pike with a glare, though there was little heat behind it. "If this has anything to do with the orders you're sending to the Enterprise, then I believe that you very much need to be a part of this conversation. Cadet, put Admiral Lord on the main screen."
The cadet nodded sharply. "Right away, sir."
Standing, Pike and Barnett left their sofas and moved to Barnett's desk on the far end of the room, taking their respective seats on either side of it. The cadet moved to the blank wood-paneled wall on the desk's right, flipping open a concealed panel and pressing one of the several buttons on the metal faceplate. Two large sections of the wall instantly slid open, revealing the large television screen behind them.
"Connecting to Admiral Lord, sir."
The cadet entered several numbers into the keypad on the panel and then turned to leave the room. There was a short pause before the black screen blinked to life, revealing the gruff face of Admiral Gregory Lord.
"Gregory!" Barnett greeted with a half-smile, "To what do I owe this dubious pleasure?"
"Admiral Barnett," Lord returned, his eyes slipping to where Pike sat, "and Admiral Pike. I didn't expect you to be with Richard. I apologize if I was interrupting anything."
"You were, actually," Barnett stated, his words, but not his voice, betraying his irritation in having his afternoon lunch interrupted, "Christopher and I were engaged in a rather ferocious game of chess."
Pike barely kept his snort of indignation in check. 'Ferocious game', yeah right. Barnett was mopping the floor with him. The man had played chess with Spock. It was hard to beat a person who could do toe-to-toe with the Vulcan and make even him struggle.
Lord's eyes narrowed at the jab. "Well, then I will state my purpose for calling so this can be as brief as possible."
"That would be very nice, thank you."
Pike's flicked a look in Barnett's direction. It was no secret how the Dean of the Academy felt about the Commander of Starfleet Intelligence. Coming from a lower-middle class family out of Chicago, Barnett had earned and fought his way to the top. So when he found out Admiral Lord had literally been handed his commission on a gold platter, the two were immediately placed at odds. Unfortunately, because Intelligence recruited directly out of the Academy's junior and senior classes, Barnett and Lord clashed on a frequent basis. Usually these clashes turn volatile very quickly.
Pike sighed inwardly. Like today…
"Very well," Lord snarled, clearly insulted, "And I will try to speak as slowly as possible so you understand."
"You may speak as quickly as that silver spoon fed brain of yours allows. Even if it is at a snail's pace."
"Why you rude, disrespectful, son of a…"
"Gentlemen!" Pike interrupted in exasperation, "Is this really necessary?"
Barnett grinned with a wink in Pike's direction, "Don't worry, Christopher. It's just a little game Admiral Lord and I have been playing for the past fifteen years. To lighten things up, right, Gregory?"
The dark look on Lord's face clearly showed he disagreed, "Yes…something like that."
"So, Gregory, what is it you want?"
Lord looked in Pike's direction. "I had hoped to speak with you in private, but considering Admiral Pike is also a part of this, it could make things easier." Lord sat ramrod straight, "I regret to inform you that as Chief of Starfleet Intelligence, I am requesting that another starship, other than the USS Enterprise, be assigned to patrol the Romulan Neutral Zone."
There was a pregnant silence. Barnett and Pike exchanged a confused look before the newly promoted Admiral spoke.
"Are you serious?"
"I'm certainly not joking, Admiral Pike."
"On what grounds?"
"Ensuring the safety and security of the Federation."
"Sending the Enterprise to the Neutral Zone would be accomplishing exactly that, Admiral Lord," Pike argued, looking at Barnett for support.
However, instead of supporting Pike's claims and taking Lord to town, Barnett looked quite serious, his stern eyes locked on the screen. "You are aware of something we are not, Admiral Lord?"
Lord gave a short nod. "I am. As you well know, several Ambassadors from the Romulan Empire arrived here to speak with myself and my staff today. The purpose of this meeting was to have one, Commander Spock of the USS Enterprise, arrested and surrendered for trial in Romulan court. And if we did not agree to his surrender, we were promised dire consequences that we would be unable to fend off in the face of our most recent tragedy."
Barnett blinked, his shock and confusion clear. "And exactly what crime was Commander Spock supposed to have committed?"
"I cannot specify, but I assure you, they have ample evidence that would guarantee a swift conviction in their courts."
"Oh Jesus…" Pike's voice came out in a strained whisper, "Please tell me you didn't…"
"Of course not," Lord admonished, "I successfully evaded the surrender and – highly probable – execution of Commander Spock. However, this came at a small price I was willing to bend to. The details are not necessary, but in short, Commander Spock cannot go anywhere near Romulan space. To do so may put those on board the Enterprise in a very compromising and uncomfortable position. One that could prove dangerous for such a novice crew."
Pike shifted in his seat, sitting a little straighter. "I believe that their actions during the incident with Nero prove beyond a doubt they have far surpassed a 'novice' crew."
"Agreed." Barnett growled, "But the Admiral Lord is, unfortunately, correct. Sending the Enterprise to the Neutral Zone could prove disastrous."
Lord could barely contain his glee. Maybe things wouldn't disintegrate around him after all. "Thank you, Admiral."
"But, I'm sending them anyways."
If Lord had been drinking at that moment, the contents of his cup would have been all over the front of his screen. "Wh--What??Admiral Barnett…"
The Black man held up a hand to silence the sputtering Lord. "Fleet Admiral Maxwell and I agreed that the Enterprise and Captain Kirk need more of a challenge than patrolling our happy little neighborhood. It's unfair that they must be regulated to routine assignments given their outstanding performance recently. If I didn't think Kirk was capable of handling any situation presented to him, I most certainly would not have put him in the flagship of our fleet."
Lord's fists clenched, his voice taking on a hint of desperation. "Admiral Barnett…if you send the Enterprise to the Neutral Zone…if they, for whatever reason, are perceived as a threat and discover Commander Spock is in a position of command…"
"Then Kirk will do as any other Captain should do and handle it." Barnett leaned back in his seat, considering Lord for a moment. "I'm surprised at you, Gregory. You're not one to agree to an arrangement that might leave the Federation so exposed and tied up like this."
"Believe me, Richard," Lord snapped, "I had very little choice. The Romulans are more than aware that our fleet was severely crippled at Vulcan and an attack by them would have a high percentage of success." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "At least grant me this. If the Enterprise cannot avoid Romulan territory, then I would advise that Commander Spock be confined to either his quarters or the brig throughout the mission. So long as Romulus has no proof that Spock is, or could be, a threat, then they can't demand his surrender."
Pike looked like he'd swallowed a half-dead fish. "You want us to place a Starfleet officer under house arrest onboard his own ship?"
"Yes."
"He's the first officer! We can't just lock him in a room for eight months!" Pike looked pleadingly at Barnett, "There has to be another way."
"Reassign the Enterprise." Lord was resolute.
Barnett shook his head. "No. That is not going to happen. Maxwell wants Captain Kirk to gain some real experience in handling volatile situations. Clashing one-on-one with a rogue mining ship is one thing. Confronting and handling an entire species is quite different."
"Then this is the best way." Lord frowned at Pike, "I don't know why you're fighting me on this. After all, I did save Spock's from a rather terrible death. I'm simply trying to keep that from happening in the near future."
"And we're thankful for your dedication." Barnett replied with a sour smile, "However inconvenient it may be."
"…Thanks…"
"Now that that's settled, is there anything else, Admiral Lord?" The dark look in Barnett's eyes told Lord quite clearly that his requests were done for today.
"No. I'm done." Lord gave them a short nod. "Thank you, gentlemen."
The screen wentdark as the connection was severed.
"This is unacceptable, Richard." Pike said, continuing to glare at the blank screen, "That bastard cooked up some deal that's put the Federation in jeopardy! How can we function when our officers are being restricted on their own ships?"
Barnett held up his hands in surrender. "Trust me, I like it even less than you do, Christopher. But what's done is done and if the Romulans think we've gone back on whatever bat-brained deal Admiral Lord came up with, then the Federation would be in danger of a full scale assault." He gave a wiry smirk, "Romulans don't take too kindly to having their honor trampled on."
This gave Pike pause as he considered Barnett's words. "I know that Lord didn't go into details about why Spock was their target, but it's not that hard to put two and two together. Do you think they're pissed that Spock and Kirk attacked and destroyed one of their ships?"
"Maybe. But then again, you weren't here when we alerted Romulus that a rogue ship had attacked us. To say the least, the Praetor wasn't too happy that we took so long to let them know."
"They were mad?"
"Furious. Apparently their Praetor determined that Nero's death should have come from their justice system. They wanted to help us bring Nero down." Barnett sighed, "They are the weirdest life forms I've ever had to deal with…besides Vulcans. But don't look into it too much. Frankly, I don't know why the Romulans are going after Spock. Could be a misplaced attempt to vent their anger. Or maybe the Praetor's off his rocker. Whatever the case is, the Enterprise is going to the Neutral Zone and Spock is going to stay out of trouble…"
Barnett looked uncertain for the first time that afternoon as he looked in Pike's direction.
"Right?"
Pike let out a small laugh. "You order tell Spock to jump off a ten story building and he'd ask how far out. Don't worry about him."
Worry about Kirk.
"Good!" Barnett beamed standing up, "Then you'll make the necessary amendments to the mission parameters before transmission?"
"Yes, sir. I'll do that--"
"After," Barnett interrupted with a wide grin, "I finish trouncing your happy butt in chess."
Pike forced the half-enthusiastic smile to his face. "Yeah. Sounds like great fun."
MP**MP**MP**MP**MP
Chapter One is done!! Some of you might be thinking: WTF??? Where is the Enterprise? Where is the Kirk? Where is the Spock and Uhura? I say to you: calm yourselves. It's in Chapter Two. I had to split them because this chapter was getting a bit too long. So, just scoot over to the next chapter and enjoy.
I do want to head off any questions about Fleet Admiral Maxwell. As far as my research goes, there isn't a named Fleet Admiral during this period. So I took the creative liberty of making one up. I doubt he'll serve much purpose outside of the name game.
Admiral Barnett is the same from the movie.
But before you go, please remember to show the love and R&R!