A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers! I tried to reply to more reviews this time, but work is still sucking up a lot of my free time so I'm sure I missed a couple - If I didn't reply to your review, please know that I DO read all the reviews I get and I appreciate every single one of them! 3
Next chapter will be up next Saturday.
Comments and critiques are always welcome.
Chapter Ten
"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
"Maintaining standard orbit over the planet, sir."
"Thank you, Mr. Sulu," came the clipped reply. "Uhura, open up a channel with the colony leader. It's mid-morning on the colony right now so he should answer."
"Yes, sir," she replied, and Kirk stared pensively at the viewscreen as he waited. The planet looked inconspicuous enough – it was similar in coloration to Earth, covered mostly in greens and blues with cloud formations that had a slight yellowish tint to them but otherwise looked like familiar white Earth clouds.
"I've established a connection with the leader of the colony, sir," Uhura announced.
"Patch it through to the viewscreen, Lieutenant," he said tonelessly, his expression tense.
"Remember, his name is Vronsky," she said teasingly, but he frowned at the comment and retorted,
"I am aware of that, Lieutenant." More than a few pairs of eyes shot incredulous looks in his direction – never had he responded so disapprovingly to one of Uhura's joking reminders – but after a brief startled silence, Uhura mumbled,
"Sorry, sir."
The screen flashed for a moment, then a man's face appeared on the screen and Kirk stood to greet him, his expression wary.
"Hello," the man said, looking suspiciously at the captain – he was round of face, looked as though he were fairly heavyset, and seemed to be suffering from male pattern baldness. "To whom am I speaking?"
"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the starship Enterprise," he replied. "I'm here on behalf of Starfleet and the Federation. I've been informed that your planet is suffering from a crop failure." The man scowled and Kirk's expression hardened.
"Yes, the Federation said they'd be sending someone," the man sighed. "Well, I'm President Vronsky, so it'll be me you'll be... negotiating with. If you beam down I can meet with you in about one Standard hour."
"Sounds like a plan," Kirk replied darkly. "I'll be beaming down with some others in an hour. We've got your coordinates."
"I see. Farewell until then, Captain."
"Kirk out," he snapped, and he shut off the video feed promptly. "Uhura, I want you, Mr. Spock, whatever diplomatic officer is on duty right now, and two Security men to be ready to go in forty five minutes. Dress uniforms, not casual."
"Aye, sir. I'll let them know." With a sigh, Kirk stood.
"Mr. Spock, you're dismissed. Sulu, you have the conn." And with that, he nearly ran for the turbolift, leaving the command crew glancing in bewilderment amongst themselves – save, of course, for Spock, who watched the Captain's retreat with his usual cool expression before standing and leaving the bridge as well.
When Jim arrived at his quarters, he immediately stepped into his bathroom, turned on the sink, and scrubbed at his face with the coldest water he could stand. He stared at his visage in the mirror, water dripping from the hair of his eyebrows and his sideburns, his eyelashes damply sticking together, the front of his uniform littered with spots from the water. With a sigh he turned the sink off and stepped back into his quarters, pulling out his dress uniform and draping it over his chair – then sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, and he remained there for a long while, his expression clouded in thought.
His hands trembled in his lap. He shouldn't have accepted this mission. He should have told Pike he couldn't do it, when he still had the chance to back out. Already he felt a distinctly unpleasant mix of crippling dread and burning anger – he knew he was going to fuck up the diplomatic meeting but he couldn't bow out now, it was too late for that. He stilled his shaking hands by pressing his face into his palms, letting out a sound of exasperation that was too close to a whimper for his liking.
And unbeknownst to him, Spock stood on the opposite side of his doorway, Vulcan ears picking up the faint, "what the fuck am I doing?" that escaped his lips. Spock stood in front of the door for twelve seconds, brows furrowed and worry burning a painful wound in his abdomen, before he finally turned away and went to his own quarters.
The group beamed down to the planet to be greeted by a group of three men dressed in suits, all of whom bore the same pinched expression that Vronsky had worn. Kirk glanced quickly at their surroundings – they were in a courtyard in front of a small building that served as the colony's town hall of sorts – then one of the men stepped forward and said dryly,
"President Vronsky is available to speak with you. Come with me." Kirk could only bring himself to nod curtly in reply and followed as the man turned on his heel and led the group into the building. The two Security men following him were looking about suspiciously as they walked. Spock and Uhura, one on either side of him, as well as Commander Ramirez, their diplomatic specialist who was walking behind them, kept their gazes trained ahead as they followed the man leading them down the hallways of the building.
Already Kirk was unsettled. The temperature outside was fairly mild, only a bit on the warm side – yet all the grass in the courtyard had been brown and dead, as though they were in the height of summer. It made no sense, and he was filled with an overwhelming sense of suspicion and distrust.
The man led them into a spacious, sparsely decorated room where Vronsky was sitting at the far end of a long table, and he glanced up as they filed into the room, then slowly stood in greeting. He was just as stocky as he had appeared in the transmission, and his expression was just as uninviting.
"Captain Kirk," he said primly. "Please, sit down." Kirk shot a quick glance at the three officers next to him, then sat down a few seats away from where Vronsky was standing. Spock sat down beside him, and Uhura and Ramirez sat down as well. The two Security men stood behind them, and Vronsky spared them a disapproving glance before sitting back down.
"I'm sure you know why we're here," Kirk began without preamble. "Your colony isn't doing too well. You're on the brink of a mass starvation and you're refusing the aid being offered to you."
"We do not need any assistance," the balding man sneered, and Kirk frowned. "You exaggerate the situation, Captain."
"According to the reports we were sent, that is untrue," Spock interjected. "Are you suggesting that Starfleet's information is inaccurate?"
"I am not," Vronsky replied, and Ramirez interrupted smoothly,
"Sir, we're just trying to understand why you're refusing aid from the Federation."
"Especially when lives are at stake," Kirk snapped, earning him a frustrated look from Uhura that he ignored. "If you allow this to continue, I can guarantee the consequences will be dire."
"Sir – " Ramirez began, only to be ignored.
"We came to Gabrilis to escape the oppression of the Federation," Vronsky declared with a snarl.
"The oppression – we're offering you a lifeline!" Kirk exclaimed, chair squealing as he stood up abruptly.
"Captain," Spock said warningly as the room seemed to collectively jump in surprise at his sudden outburst.
"A lifeline that we do not require," the president snapped in reply, and he stood as well. The Security men glanced at each other uncertainly, hands hovering over their phasers, as Ramirez and Uhura attempted to placate the angry men to no avail, their protestations gone unheard.
"You do require it!" Kirk insisted. "If you don't do something, people – innocent civilians, children, will die! Don't you understand that?"
"Captain," Spock said again, louder this time, and Uhura added, "Captain, please."
"Their deaths will mean nothing!" Vronsky spat. "Let them die – they're just civilians, second-class citizens – they mean nothing!" The room fell silent in shock, and Kirk's features twisted.
"You..." he hissed – and then he lunged across the table, shouting in near-hysterics, "You're as bad as Kodos, you sick bastard, you – !"
He did not get any further, however, for Spock decided that this had gone much too far and, in one fluid movement, stood and grabbed the captain by the shoulder, applying the nerve pinch. The words died on his lips as he promptly collapsed against the Vulcan, his eyes rolling back as Spock effortlessly picked him up. For a moment he studied the captain's face, his features still tensed in rage, with an uncertain expression, then he looked at Vronsky, who had backed away fearfully, and he said curtly,
"I apologize for my Captain's unprofessional behavior." He turned to the Security men, who had drawn their phasers and were now looking uncertainly at the first officer. Spock selected the more muscular individual, and continued, "Ensign Kasica, hold him."
"A-Aye, sir," the man replied, startled, and he reached over to lift Kirk by his underarms, hefting the limp body so that the captain's torso leaned heavily against his shoulder. Spock pulled out his communicator as Ramirez, who seemed to have regained her senses, motioned for everyone to sit back down and for the other Security man to put his phaser away as well.
"Spock to Enterprise," he said, and after four seconds an answer came.
"Scott here, sir."
"Mr. Scott, instruct the transporter room to beam up the captain and Ensign Kasica," he instructed, then paused. "Also alert Sickbay that the captain is unconscious."
"He's gone and hurt himself again, I see," he sighed. "Aye, sir, I'll see to it. Scott out." Spock put his communicator away and again turned to the ensign holding the captain.
"You will inform the team from Sickbay what has happened," he instructed simply, and the ensign nodded.
"Aye, sir," he said, and as Spock sat back down beside Uhura, the whirr of the transporter beam filled the room and the ensign and the captain were gone.
"Spock, what was that?" Uhura whispered faintly, and Spock glanced quickly at her, his expression carefully controlled.
"I do not know," he replied, then looked back at Vronsky, who was openly scowling at them now. "However, I believe that there are negotiations to continue."
When Jim woke groggily, his head was throbbing with pain and he groaned audibly, wondering how the hell he ended up with a hangover – and, as he opened his eyes, how the hell he ended up in Sickbay.
"Oh, you're awake," came a familiar voice, and Jim glanced around, disoriented, until he saw McCoy standing in the doorway.
And then he remembered – and he fell back against the pillows with a frustrated sigh.
"Sounds like you had quite an adventure down there, Captain Kirk," the doctor continued, his tone neutral and careful.
"How long have I been out?" he replied dryly, glaring up at the ceiling.
"About two hours," McCoy answered, and Jim swore under his breath and sat up again.
"I'm beaming back down," he said simply as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
"Oh no you're not," McCoy interjected. "That regulation you're so fond of about emotional compromise? That applies to you too. You attempted to attack the president of Gabrilis – you've been taken off the mission roster. You're not going back down there." The captain made a frustrated noise but sat back against the bed, directing his sullen glare at the wall. McCoy scrutinized him for a moment before continuing,
"Mind telling me why you felt so compelled to attack the Gabrillin president?"
"I'm not telling anything," he muttered.
"Ensign Kasica says you said something about a 'Kodos'," McCoy replied steadily. "I don't suppose you'd like to elaborate on that, either."
"No, I wouldn't."
"I see." McCoy paused for a moment. "Well, now that you're awake, you're free to leave, but you've been ordered off-duty for the next forty-eight hours."
Without bothering to reply, Jim stood up and all but stomped out of Sickbay. McCoy sighed, watching him leave. Maybe the captain refused to talk, but one way or another, he was going to get to the bottom of this.
A quick search of "Kodos" brought up Kodos the Executioner and the name Tarsus IV. McCoy read the information that came up – and his heart began to sink.
A list of Tarsus survivors proved to be more difficult to find and he ended up having to scour the Starfleet databanks. Luckily his command code was apparently high-ranking enough to allow him access to the list.
Another quick search confirmed exactly what he was afraid of. Number seventy-two on the list: "Kirk, James Tiberius: Captain, USS Enterprise".
McCoy put his PADD aside with a heavy sigh. How could he not have known? Why hadn't Jim ever said anything? It was all so – so –
This was all so stupid, he realized suddenly. How could he have become so upset as to destroy his friendship with Jim? Compared to this newfound information, his own grievances seemed embarrassingly petty and insignificant. How could he have been so unforgivably stupid?
He had to talk to Jim. Now. Before he could talk himself out of it – so he reached for the button of his intercom with an unsteady hand.
"Captain Kirk," he said. He paused and there was no response so he cleared his throat and said a little louder, "Captain Kirk, this is Sickbay. Come in, please."
"Kirk here," came the reply, the captain's voice harsh and uneasy.
"I need you to come back," he replied, and there was a pause.
"Why?" the captain asked sullenly, and McCoy scowled. Nothing was ever easy, was it?
"Something came up on one of your tricorder scans," he lied. "So I need to see you in my office." Another uncertain pause and McCoy was beginning to grow frustrated.
"I'll be there in a minute," he finally muttered. "Kirk out." The connection cut with a hiss of static and McCoy leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He had no idea what to say – but he couldn't back out now. It was too late for that, and he was sure he would sorely regret it later if he didn't at least try to make amends, as late as they were now.
He sat staring pensively at his wall for a few minutes until the door of his office slid open and Jim stepped inside with a miserable expression on his face.
"Lock the door behind you," McCoy said. "I don't want anyone walking in on this." Jim's gaze became vaguely suspicious, but he locked the door and slowly sat down in a chair across from McCoy – not the one he used to always sit in, he noticed, but of course he did not say that.
"Well, let's hear it," Jim muttered. "Am I dying or what?"
"No," McCoy replied slowly, studying the captain's weary face. "I... Well, I lied about that. Wasn't sure how else I could get you down here." Jim's expression turned into a glare and he said curtly,
"You better tell me what this is about. Now." McCoy took a steadying breath before responding,
"I asked you to come here because I want to apologize to you." The suspicion in Jim's gaze did not dissipate in the slightest and the doctor continued lamely, "I... I figured out about Tarsus." Jim stood quickly and all but shouted,
"If you're just doing this out of pity then I sure as hell don't need it – !"
"That's not it – so sit down!" the doctor snapped, and slowly the captain sat back down. "It's not about pity, all right? So get that fool notion out of your head now. I'm apologizing because – " He stumbled over his words and scowled, his uneasiness plastered over his face. "...Because I realized what a stupid, selfish ass I've been to you. And I'm sorry."
The doctor's tone was gruff and certainly didn't sound apologetic – but that was how Jim knew he was being sincere. And that certainly caught him more than a little off-guard.
He considered it for a moment, staring at the doctor until the older man looked away uncomfortably. On one hand, he had missed his friend – he missed Bones. The man had been his best friend for years, after all – how could he not miss having him around?
But on the other hand was the kind of big deal that McCoy had betrayed his trust and hurt not only him, but Spock as well, and Jim wasn't sure if they could forgive the doctor for that transgression – or if they even should.
"...Look," McCoy muttered, breaking the silence. "I don't expect you to forgive me or to want to be friends again. I understand that. But I do want you to know that, for whatever it's worth, I'm sorry for what I did." Jim swallowed heavily, struggling to come up with a response, and finally managed,
"Well – I appreciate your apology. And..." He trailed off there. And? And what? He forgave him? He wasn't sure if he did. He wanted to be friends again? Maybe – but that seemed too presumptuous, it would take time to become friends, and he wondered if their friendship would ever be the way it was, if he could ever trust the doctor again. "...And, uh... I'm sorry too."
McCoy pursed his lips, obviously as surprised at the utterance as Jim himself was. "Don't be sorry. I would've done the same thing if I were you."
"I... I do want to be friends again. I want to at least try," he blurted suddenly, without thinking. "I never... I never wanted us to not be friends. I wasn't ever asking you to like Spock, just – just accept him. I know you don't like him and I never expected you to." McCoy looked taken aback for a moment, then glanced away.
"I'd like to be friends too," he murmured. "And... I'm sorry I wasn't a better friend, when we were." For a long moment they were silent. "...And, Jim, about this Tarsus thing." Jim glanced quickly at him, his expression suddenly hardening. "Look, I... I understand you were keeping this quiet for a reason, so – so I won't tell anyone. And I'm not gonna ask you anything about it. Just know that if... If you do wanna talk about it – I'm here." Jim's expression softened again and he studied the doctor, who was scowling uncomfortably and blushing slightly, and he managed a faint, fond smile. Maybe they could work things out after all – he allowed himself to dare to hope so.
"...Thanks, Bones."
Bones blinked heavily a few times at the long-unused nickname, his scowl deepening, and he met the captain's gaze.
"...No problem, kid."