A/N: Hellooooo, my lovelies! A vague idea for this AU has been bouncing around in my mind, and I've finally started writing it. A lot of scenes will switch from Kirk and Pike to elsewhere, but that is by design. I hope I didn't make it too confusing. Arcturus is not mine, I've borrowed it from some of the Star Trek novels. Reviews are appreciated! Without further ado:

Some Assembly Required

Pike dropped the thick file on the desk in front of him. Kirk reached for it as he began talking.

"The situation has reached the critical point," he said bluntly. "We've kept an eye on the Romulans' progress with the cloaking device throughout all of its early stages, but now they've got a prototype up and running. The time to move is now."

Kirk understood completely. Let the Romulans figure out all the science and theory behind an invisibility cloak first because it was much easier to reverse engineer something than start from scratch.

"Surely this would be developed deep within Romulan space, possibly Romulus itself," he mused. "We're not going to the homeworld, are we?"

Pike shot him an annoyed look. "If you would let me finish."

Kirk quieted.

"No, you're not going that deep into Romulan territory. We have word that a Romulan Bird-of-Prey will be field-testing the device in a few stardates along this quadrant." He tapped the first page of the file Kirk had opened. "Among a few other places. This is the closest to Federation space. This is when we make our move."

A light grin teased Kirk's face. "Not we, correct?"

"Correct. Should you be caught you are not affiliated with Starfleet, Section 31, or the Federation."

Kirk raised his eyebrows at the last point. "Or the Federation? That's going to be a little difficult to explain."

"Not necessarily. Your launching point will be Arcturus- dozens of species and races mix down there. You are officially a rogue crew- part merchant, part pirate, really belonging to nobody. You cross borders between empires and territories all the time."

Kirk nodded, and started fanning through the file. "Speaking of crew… who are these people?"

Pike finally sat down across from him. "Kirk, this mission must succeed in the first try. As such, we're assembling a very specialized strike force composed only of the essential elements. We've scoured Starfleet for the best people, and they're all there in that file. This is your team, Kirk."

"Are they already assembled?" He looked at the first name- Nyota Uhura.

"Only one- Pavel Andreivich Chekov. Fairly green recruit of ours, but he's got an extremely sharp mind and incredible ambition. He's a very versatile figure- if you need an extra pair hands, he can do it; someone with command training to hold down the fort, he can do it; security, he can do it; navigation, he can do it. It doesn't matter what. He's basically any flexibility you may need if things go awry."

Kirk nodded. "One of ours? Where is he now?"

Riley snickered. "Oh, sure, I'll buy that you can ride a cow and milk a horse, but beyond farm tricks I'm drawing the line at anything substantial."

Chekov laughed. "Oh really? How funny you should say that." He leaned forward slightly over the lunch table. "Keep it up and my next trick will be to make a grenade appear in your lunch tray."

The joking mood rapidly dimmed as the others took note of Chekov's more sinister tone.

"Hey, Pavel, take it easy," Jones tried to quell. "We're just talking magic tricks… it's all in good fun."

Chekov relaxed maybe a fraction. "Of course. I just didn't want anyone thinking that I could only do barnyard tricks."

"Nawh, if we wanted a one-trick pony we wouldn't come to you."

"We'd go to someone better."

All heads turned to where Bailey sat, twirling a fork in his food. "What?" he said. "Kid's good at a lot of things, but not everything. I'm siding with Riley."

"Hey, don't pull me into this," Riley protested.

"Vhat does is matter to you if I'm better at everything?" Chekov said, seemingly lightly. "I'm Russian… it is natural for us."

Bailey pointed a fork at him. "You're going to slip up, kid. Better keep that ego in check before it buries you."

"It is not an ego if it is true," he replied icily.

The joking mood was now completely gone as a tense stand-off grew between the two recruits.

Bailey pursed his lips. "I've been here two full years longer than you have. You don't know everything and you can't do everything. Give it a rest, will you? It's childish."

A blaze of anger snapped in Chekov's eyes. He stood and slammed his hands across the table, pushing his head right into Bailey's space.

"Zhat magic trick I mentioned earlier?" he hissed. "Have fun with the grenade in your tray." He turned away roughly and stalked away from the table- which erupted into animated discussion at the appearance of an actual grenade on Bailey's tray, even though it wasn't armed. Kirk watched all this silently from the door to the mess hall, and caught Chekov's arm as he tried to shoulder past him.

"Pavel Chekov?"

Chekov looked at him suspiciously. "Yes?"

"I'm James Kirk, head of Strike Force Alpha. I hear you're good at handling more than grenade tricks and working as a member of a strike team."

Chekov straightened and looked him in the eye. "The best."

Ah. Kirk believed he understood more about this man- or boy- by this reaction. His display made more sense, now. Admittedly, when he first walked in and spotted Chekov he'd grown very doubtful- he was incredibly young. Was he really worth this position?

Kirk could see what Pike meant about ambition in Chekov's eyes. He was out to prove everyone who doubted him wrong.

"Come with me. I have a few other members you will be meeting."

"Hikaru Sulu. Bit of a wild card, but an expert pilot. He'll act as the helmsman to get you into Romulan territory. He's got a degree in Astrophysics, as well, which serves him when steering through trickier star systems. He won't shy away from the danger- in fact, he's a bit of an adrenaline junkie. Transferred ships three times just due to boredom."

Sulu bounced off the wall and eyed his opponent again. Clearly he would need a different strategy. This was proving more difficult than he thought.

He relished the energy.

Catching his breath, he eyed the other obstacles. Two were stationary, that would work. Kicking off from the wall, he sailed towards his opponent- katana outstretched.

The computer activated the dummy, which whirled to face him with a sword of its own.

He blocked the attack easily, tilting the blade so that he bounced back towards one of the foam obstacles. Pushing off from it with his feet, he sailed even faster back towards the target. He kept up the fast rebound attack by utilizing the obstacles and walls to push him back faster and faster towards the blade-bot. Finally, spying an opening, he deflected the parry and sent himself upwards- somersaulting over the bot and sinking the blade into what served as the dummy's head. The bite of the foam around the katana pulled his movement back down, and he landed gracefully on the floor as the swing completed.

The bot jerked and stilled, its limbs freezing as the computer halted the game in defeat. Breathing raggedly, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, Sulu pulled the katana free.

It was then that he heard the clapping.

He turned quickly and spotted a blond-haired man standing just outside the threshold of the room, clapping his hands. A PADD was tucked under his arm, and his quick eyes watched Sulu move with startling attention.

"Anti-gravity fencing," the man commented. "I'll admit= that's not something I've seen before."

Despite being wary of the stranger, Sulu still grinned. "I needed a bigger challenge," he replied, not a little proudly.

"I bet you do. I heard something about a man-sized Venus flytrap in the mess hall?" He blushed, and the man stepped in as the room slowly returned to normal gravity. Sulu suddenly felt his exhaustion much more clearly, and the sweat poured down his back.

The man extended a hand nonetheless. "I'm James Kirk, Section 31."

Sulu shook it, getting some of his questions answered. Section 31? Certainly explained how this guy turned up on the ship all of a sudden.

"Lt. Hikaru Sulu," he answered. "Though I suppose you knew that already."

Kirk gave a tight smile. "I did. I've heard many good things about you, Sulu, particularly your love for action." His eyes flickered to the anti-grav course. "What do think of joining my team for a very dangerous intelligence mission?"

Sulu grinned.

"Nyota Uhura," Kirk mused, skimming her picture in the file.

"Linguist and cultural expert. She's fluent in over 30 languages and has a knack for deciphering syntax of new ones. She's also broken two cryptography records and has experience in creating her own codes. I don't have to tell you how useful all this will be when you're in Romulan space."

"Miss Uhura?"

The lovely lady stopped for a moment and looked at him. "Yes?" she answered, clearly startled, but keeping a calm composure.

Kirk smiled warmly. He figured how strange it must be for a stranger to know your name. Though he's been with Section 31 for years- he's gotten used to the reaction.

"My apologies, but your reputation precedes you. Although, I am curious as to how a prodigy in multicultural communications ends up working in the archives on a Starbase."

She blushed, but her voice remained even. "Peace and quiet appeal to me."

His smile widened. "How ironic."

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked. Her voice had a melodic quality to it, and he had to think for a moment why he was here before answering.

"I come with a job offer," he began honestly. "It's risky, but it provides the opportunity for both foreign language communications and code use."

She hummed softly. "Sounds dangerous," she said tantalizingly, moving past him. "What if I turn it down?"

Kirk spread his arms. "Then we'll find the second-best linguist in the Fleet. While we have selected certain people, it remains a volunteer-based job."

"You run a nice sales pitch, Mr. Kirk," she said, eyeing him sweetly.

"Well, if you'd rather stay here, I can understand-"

"Oh, I want the job." She turned around and faced him fully. "Let's get started right away!"

Though he considered himself pretty good with women, they remained just that: women. Kirk was still trying to figure out how she learned his name, and how fast the mood switch from 'stay' to 'go' had occurred.

At least she was saner than Sulu.

"Are you sure?" Kirk said doubtfully. "He's sounds a bit crazy. And his conduct record-"

Pike snorted. "Sulu and McCoy have marks on their conduct records, too, for pranks and abrasiveness. Scott is no different. It's not that he's difficult to deal with, it's that his devotion to his job comes first."

Kirk frowned, reviewing the sheet. "That sounds like a plus, not a problem."

"Precisely the point, at least in this case. It only becomes an issue to Starfleet when it succeeds his other duties. And, I think he's losing it. We need to intervene before he goes permanently off the deep end."

"Aw, Chris, it can't be that bad."

As the ship pulled up alongside the cruiser, Kirk reflected on his words. Nope, it was that bad.

"How long has he been there?" he murmured to the security personnel next to him. The retrieval unit had already been dispatched to the automated drone ferret him out, and Kirk simply had the lovely opportunity to join them.

"Close to two months, sir," he answered. "He skipped off the Horizon when they got close enough and he's been buried inside ever since. Due to all the shielding for most of the automated parts, we can only beam to certain, select areas, and he's been avoiding them."

Kirk nodded. "Well, let's root him out."

They materialized in a cramped area meant for simple maintenance. The security team spread out, picking their way across the machinery. Kirk roamed towards a thick collection of wires and tubes and, upon brief consideration, pocketed his phaser.

Scott was likely in the heart of the machine. He just had to find it. As such, he carefully targeted the thickest clumps of machinery, crawling and wiggling when there was no room to stand.

When he was sure he had gotten well and truly lost, Kirk found himself peeking out of an access-way towards what might pass as a room. Insular padding lined a relatively flat surface about five feet off the ground like a bed, though considering Kirk was entering about three feet off the ground it really wasn't that hard to reach. What looked to be a homemade food synthesizer rested to his left, snuggled in nicely to the surrounding neon coils. A few odds and ends of tools and spare parts littered any available surface.

Maybe they were too late. Maybe Pike was right and Scott really had gone off the deep end. The man was completely integrating himself within a machine.

Kirk picked his way over to the padding and sat cross-legged in the alcove, waiting. There was no way to monitor time, but he felt he didn't have to wait long before he heard heavily accented cursing echoing through the chamber. Scott popped out from a different passage and dropped down almost head-first before righting himself with a well-placed handhold. He continued cursing, but froze when he saw Kirk sitting on his bed.

"How'd ye get here?" he exclaimed.

"Please, Mr. Scott, I just want to talk."

Scott narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and inched towards the channel Kirk had come through. His skittish manner and massive beard growth gave Kirk the impression of a wild man. "An' how can I believe that?"

He shrugged slowly. "I just tagged along with those guys trying to gas you out of your tunnels. My agenda is different than their's." He extended a hand. "I'm Jim Kirk."

Scott didn't take it, still pressed against the far wall- even though it was just out of arm's reach. "What do ye want?"

"In short, Scotty- can I call you Scotty?- I want to offer you a job. I'm going to be captaining a small ship and crew on a highly classified mission, and we need an engineer who can not only keep up with the maintenance demand, but also improvise improvements and any possible add-ons."

Scott had stopped moving, and was at least regarding Kirk with more than just suspicion. "What add-ons?"

Kirk knew he was breaching orders at this stage, but he had to sell this point home. "Our mission is to secure a cloaking device from the Romulans. Once we have it, we'll need to quickly integrate it into our own ship's systems. You seem to be the best man able to work with unfamiliar technology and improvising mechanical solutions."

"Aye," Scott said, thinking to himself. "And after that?"

Kirk could appreciate the concern. The security team was still trying to track him down, anyway. "More opportunities than jail will open up to you, Scotty. I offer you work on a state-of-the-art stealth ship and a promise of new tech to examine. You're a genius and we know that. However, those security personnel don't care either way."

Distant shouts echoed through the innards of the drone and Scott remembered that Kirk had mentioned he wasn't with the security personnel. His eyes flicked back and forth across the alcove, and he licked his lips as he considered what to do.

"I guess I'll have t'take your offer, Mr. Kirk," he said at last. There was a distant clanging sound and Scott suddenly rushed and grabbed Kirk's collar.

"But tell them t'stop tearing apart my baby!" he wailed.

"Spock of Vulcan." Kirk's eyebrows shot up. "A Vulcan?"

"Yes." Pike drummed his fingers impatiently. "Spock has one of the brightest scientific minds in Starfleet and years of experience with anomalous readings. If/when the Romulans detect test their cloaking device, you need someone sharp to detect any kind of energy pattern the Bird of Prey may emit. And besides, depending on how the operation runs, it may help to have someone who looks like a Romulan."

Kirk grew uneasy. "And we're sure he's a Vulcan?"

Pike threw him a level, icy glare. "His record is impeccable, Kirk," he said coldly. "And I've worked with him before. If you keep doubting your team like this, how can you lead them?"

Kirk bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

Pike nodded. "Better be," he grumbled. "Anyway, his mother's human in case you still had treasonous worries."

Kirk looked back up. "Human? So he's a half-Vulcan."

"Genetically speaking, yes. Still tries to out-Vulcan other Vulcans. Though I guess that makes sense, considering his father is-"

"Sarek of Vulcan, Ambassador to Earth," Spock supplied. His voice held no emotion, and he stood at perfect attention. Kirk nodded slowly, trying to hide his own surprise.

"And is your father okay with you accepting this assignment?" he asked.

Spock hesitated. "If I am the best science officer for the mission, then logically I must go. My father will honor that."

The answer/not-answer puzzled Kirk slightly. "This is still on a volunteer basis. You are not being ordered to participate."

"I am aware of that, Captain," Spock maintained. "However, I am a Vulcan, and I am governed by logic. Logic dictates I must assist you, and so therefore, I will."

A half-smile played on Kirk's face. "And what does your human side say you should do?"

There was a brief flash of- distress? –on the Vulcan's face, but Kirk might have imagined it. Regardless, when Spock started speaking in an even stiffer tone, Kirk was aware that he had hit a very sore point.

"My human half is nothing to be concerned about. It is well handled."

Kirk frowned. "Spock, my command style means I think on my feet, and depending on how things roll you may need to act- possibly as a Romulan. If your Vulcan training can't let you do that, then you must find it within yourself to respond to my orders."

Spock blinked. "Of course, Captain," he said, if a little reluctantly. "I simply meant that my human side will not be a burden."

Kirk chuckled. "You're talking to a human, Spock," he replied. "Trust me- it's not that bad."

He bowed his head. "My mother would say the same."

"It might not hurt to listen, then."

"Dr. Leonard McCoy is the best surgeon, researcher, and xenobiologist in his field, although he will probably deny all of that." Pike tapped the file. "He's got a wide variety of experience and a flexible enough mind to figure out new techniques. Every team needs a medic, and since you have a half-Vulcan, and possibly some Romulans to deal with, he can handle them."

Kirk frowned as something didn't add up in his mind. "He sounds almost overqualified to just be a simple medic for us," he commented.

Pike sighed deeply. "Really, he is. But he's one of the few geniuses in that file whose current commanding officer also recognizes him as such. Captain Horne knew he had struck gold when he got McCoy and is getting all he can outta him as he long as he's on that frigate. Starfleet's been trying to transfer him for ages, but Horne set up some legal backings making it very difficult. We don't need that caliber talent wasting away as a simple ship's doctor- so yes, this is as much to get your team the best in every category as it is to finally get McCoy out from under Horne's thumb."

Kirk nodded, and the misconduct record suddenly made a little more sense. He figured he'd be cranky too if he was kept under an incompetent commander who was both overusing and underutilizing him.

Pike had a determined look on his face. "Kirk? When you go get him, please deliver a message for me."

"Captain Horne," Kirk greeted with a wide smile. "I'm James Kirk, Section 31."

"Yes, I know," the captain replied grouchily. He was in a miserable mood and Kirk just smiled wider because he knew why. "This is such short notice."

"I apologize, but we operate on a need-to-know basis. Since this mission, while having its personnel preferences, is technically volunteer, I will need to speak with Dr. McCoy himself."

"I got it," Horne answered, frustrated. He barked at the transporter tech. "Orlins! Go wake up, McCoy, will you? I can't believe this…"

Orlins perked up like the youth he was and scampered by. "This way, Mr. Kirk!" he chirped, rushing through the halls.

Amused, Kirk followed him as he wound through a close and homey ship. It wasn't as Spartan as a starship, as personal touches and lackadaisical decorating were everywhere. Orlins rounded a corner and strode through what looked to be a medical ward before stopping before a door. He picked up something sitting outside it, then walked in and flung the bucket of water on the sleeping man.

"Rise and shine!" he announced cheerfully as the doctor sputtered and cursed. "Someone's here to talk to you!"

"No shit!" McCoy swore, sitting up and still getting water out of his eyes.

Orlins turned towards Kirk and shrugged. "It's the only way to wake him up, now." He skipped out of the room, leaving Kirk to confront the wet doctor.

"What?" McCoy growled. He blinked a few times before finally noticing that he hadn't seen Kirk before.

"I'm James- Jim Kirk," he said, stepping further into the room. The lighting was low, but the man had been sleeping- even if it was barely 2 o'clock Standard time.

"Okay," he groused. "Leonard McCoy." His furor from the water seemed to be fading, taking his energy with it.

Kirk frowned. "Are you used to this?" he asked suddenly.

McCoy shrugged wearily. "Hate that little snot, but he's only following orders." He bent over and tugged on his boots. Groaning like an octogenarian, he made his way towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Sickbay," McCoy grunted. "I'm awake now, and can't go back to sleep cuz the bed's all wet."

"So are you."

McCoy stopped and looked down. "Oh yeah." He turned, and shambled over to the drawers.

"They have you working every waking hour?"

McCoy flexed a tired shoulder. "More or less."

Kirk understood Pike's insistence a lot more clearly now. "Doctor, I'm here to offer you a way off this ship." McCoy looked at him, and tried to focus on what he was saying. "How?"

"I need a medic for an intelligence mission I'm about to command. It's volunteer, but I want you. It may be the last opportunity Starfleet can manage that will get you out of here."

McCoy stared at him, then fumbled with the drawer, cursed, and ordered the lights to brighten. Finding some dry clothes, he faced Kirk.

"Let me change, and then we go. Got that?"

Kirk was held in place by the intense, bloodshot blue eyes. "No second thoughts, I presume."

McCoy snorted. "Are you kidding me? This ship's worn me down to my bones. I don't care what the mission is, I'm in."

Kirk grinned. "Great."

Horne was in an even worse mood when, several minutes later, Kirk and McCoy showed back up in the transporter room with what remained of McCoy's things. Though not much, he glowered.

"Before you protest, Captain, I want you to know that Starfleet is sending along a replacement doctor for your ship," Kirk intervened. "Since this mission is top priority class Alpha, we thank you for your understanding." Kirk hesitated, but moved forward.

"Oh, and Captain? My superior, Christopher Pike, had a message to give to you."

"What's that?" Horne asked as the transporter started to take effect.

"'Suck it'."