A/N: I want to say a huge thank you to all of the readers who've been bearing with me patiently as I develop this arc of the story. I know that some of you would really like to tell me to get on with it already, i.e. help them escape and get back to their lives, but in my defense, I felt that it was important to put Jim in context. He's not the hero, yet. He's stubborn and impulsive. His experiences on Tarsus might give him an advantage in adapting to the situation more quickly, but they're also a burden and a terrible secret. And he has a lot to learn about teamwork and leadership... maybe he'll learn a little bit in this chapter.
As for Bones, I don't see him as a man overflowing with physical courage. He does what he has to do, but he's first and foremost a healer. Before he can become the intrepid CMO that we all know and love-before he's going to be willing to make the grand escape-he's got to get kicked in the pants a little (or a lot, as the case may be). It will become relevant later on.
At any rate, I appreciate every one of you who's been hanging in there, wading through all these words. The action will pick up in the next chapter, I swear. And if you're enjoying the story, take a few seconds and send a little love my way...
Leonard
After a week at the camp, Leonard had developed a workable evening routine. He washed up and ate, checked in quickly with the others, and then collapsed on his bunk and didn't talk to anybody. The others left him alone, for the most part, only bothering him if they had a medical concern or question. Even Jim kept to himself, too exhausted from the work at the mines to do anything but crash on his bed when he got back.
He ignored the evening gripe sessions that the others seemed to need. If they wanted to moan and groan, that was fine, as long as they didn't involve him. And as long as they didn't get too loud.
"God, I'm thirsty," Collins complained, sprawled on his upper tier bunk. "The wind's picking up and my throat's dry as a bone from all that dust."
"So stop talking already," Cho told him. Good idea, Leonard thought. Collins never shut up.
"I need a drink and I'm too fucking tired to move."
"I'll comm room service for you," Raj offered. "You have to pay more but it's worth the expense. Plus the delivery boy's cute."
"Order me a pizza while you're at it," Aquino laughed. "Extra cheese. As long as you're paying."
"You can both go to hell," Collins told them, but the others were already chiming in: "Forget the pizza, I need a cold beer." "—take even Klingon bloodwine…" "I'd kill for an honest-to-God sandwich, this synthetic food is disgusting."
"Pipe down, all of you!" Andrews said sharply from his bed further down, and Leonard grunted in agreement. "Some of us are trying to rest, here."
"Yeah, shut up and stop complaining," Aquino agreed, lowering his tone only slightly. "And get me some water while you're up, Collins."
"I'm not going anywhere. Hey, Kirk! Get down out of that bunk," Collins called. He was looking over at Jim, who was lying quietly on his bed above Leonard. "Go get me and Aquino some water."
"Fuck off, Collins," Leonard heard him say. From his exhaustion in his voice, it was clear that the last thing Jim intended to do was get up. "I've been hauling rocks in the mines all day."
Collins' face reddened. "That's Lieutenant Collins to you. Sit up when I'm talking to you. And watch your language around me."
Leonard heard muffled sounds of movement from the bed overhead as Jim sat up. There was a pause, and when Jim spoke again, his voice was lower, with an angry, contemptuous note that made Leonard wince inwardly."Get your own damn water, and don't pull rank with me here. This isn't the Atlantis."
Jim's words seemed to hang in the air as the others quieted suddenly and Collins stood up. "I don't care if this is Wrigley's Pleasure Planet. You're a cadet and I'm your superior officer, and I've just given you an order, so move your lazy ass!"
"What are you going to do, write me up for insubordination?" Leonard could almost see the sneer.
"First of all," Collins said slowly, as if he was measuring every word, "get on your feet, mister."
After a tense moment, Jim dropped to the floor in front of Leonard, and a look of satisfaction flashed across Collins' hard expression. "That's better," he said. "Now get me the water, and I'd better not hear another argument."
"No sir," Jim bit out, making a sarcastic mockery of the word.
"What the hell's going on over there?" Andrews growled.
"It's okay, I've got it under control," Collins called back. "Kirk, I'm telling you for the last time."
Cho got to his feet. "You're ignoring an order from an officer, Kirk."
"I'm nobody's servant," Jim snapped, "and I'm just as tired as you are!"
Oh, hell. This was going nowhere good. Leonard got quickly to his feet, placing himself between them. "Shut up, all of you! We can't start fighting among ourselves."
"Stay out of this, doc," Collins said with a warning look. "It's none of your business. It's between me and that insolent cadet over there."
"Listen, you overbearing fool, I'll decide what's my business and what's not!"
"That's enough!" Andrews boomed, sounding furious and determined. The men all turned to face him, surprised. He was standing with his hands on his waist, emanating an unmistakable air of authority. "That's it! Form up! Get your asses in a line!"
"What, now?" Cho asked in a tone of disbelief. "Seriously, John?"
Andrews raised his voice, looking directly at Cho. "I said fall in! Eyes front, and keep your mouths shut!"
In the sudden silence, the rest of the men rose quickly and dropped down from the upper bunks, assembling themselves into a straight line against the bunks. Leonard stood quietly at attention with the others, feeling slightly ridiculous.
"Just look at yourselves," Andrews said, sweeping his gaze over the line. "Bickering and arguing like a bunch of teenagers. Seven days in this hellhole, and you've already forgotten where you came from and who the hell you are!"
"We were just joking around, letting off a little steam," Raji told him, and heads nodded in agreement down the line.
"Don't give me that crap," Andrews said flatly, looking as angry as Leonard had seen him when they'd first been taken to Childress' ship. "I heard the whole conversation, and now I want all of you to listen to me. There are a hundred and forty other prisoners here, all from civilian ships. We have the dubious honor of being the first representatives of Starfleet to land in this hellhole. Every one of you has attended the Academy, every one of you took an oath to the service, and some of you are seasoned officers with years of experience behind you. But from what I can see, most of you have memories that are embarrassingly short." He shook his head in disgust. "So I'm going to give you a little reminder."
Leonard shifted uncomfortably. As much as he appreciated Andrews' stopping the argument—because both Collins and Jim were obviously too stubborn to know how to back down—he wasn't sure what the point of this was. Military discipline, here in this godforsaken labor camp? It would be like spraying an adhesive bandage on a patient who was bleeding out. Decorative but useless.
"We are Starfleet," Andrews said slowly, letting the word hang in the air.
There was something in the way he said it, with such emphasis and meaning, that despite himself, Leonard felt goose bumps break out along his arms. He'd sat through plenty of speeches and ceremonies during his time at the Academy, but he'd never had such a visceral, emotional reaction to the word.
Starfleet, like it wasn't just a vocation, not just a military organization. Like it was something more.
"We are Starfleet," he repeated, "and that doesn't change whether we're on the Atlantis, at the Academy, on Wrigley's fucking Pleasure Planet, or here in a goddamn labor camp. I don't care if you're wearing an orange jumpsuit and someone's pointing a phaser at you. Being a member of Starfleet means showing self-control and strength of character at all times, even if you're in danger and even if you've been captured."
Collins took a deep breath. "Sir, I completely agree with you. We need to—"
"Shut up!" Andrews barked. "I'm the senior officer here, and you don't tell me what we need to do! When I want your opinion I'll ask for it." Leonard was startled; up until now, Andrews had seemed relatively quiet, rarely speaking up and not really exerting his authority, although the men seemed to respect him. This was the first time he'd heard the helmsman raise his voice… and from the surreptitious glances the others were exchanging, they were just as surprised as he was.
"We're in deep trouble here and I know it's hard. None of you signed up for this. None of you ever expected to find yourselves in a place like this. But here we are, and we need to hang tough. This whole camp is designed to break our spirits and strip us of every last shred of dignity we have, but goddamn it, we don't have to do their work for them! Listening to you assholes complain and tear into each other… I'm fed up with it already, and it's only been seven days!"
Andrews walked down the line until he was facing Jim. "And for your information, Cadet Kirk, rank means something, even here. Starfleet doesn't hand out promotions like candy, and every man here has earned his rank through hard work and proven performance. When you finish your training at the Academy, you'll understand what's involved. Until then, you'll show the officers the respect they deserve."
"Yes, sir," Jim said. Leonard heard the catch in his voice, but didn't dare turn in his direction. He felt a swell of admiration for Andrews. He'd just put Jim in his place… but at the same time, implied that he needed to think of his future in the service. The not-so-subtle message was that there was a future waiting for him, that this wasn't the end of the line.
Andrews began pacing in front of them, walking up and down the line, looking each of them in the eye. "We're going to need some rules, but discipline isn't just about rules. It's about doing your duty to the best of your abilities and placing the welfare of the team above your personal welfare. It doesn't mean ordering each other around like plebes at the Academy," he said, stopping directly in front of Collins. "Everyone pulls his own weight and if someone can't, then the rest of us help him out. Do you understand that, Lieutenant Collins?"
Collins' tone was sulky. "Sir, I do, and that's why when Cadet Kirk refused to—"
Andrews cut him off. "Don't try to make this about him. I'm talking about you! If I see you pulling a stunt like that again, we're going to have a very serious discussion about what abuse of authority means. Keep it up, and I'll recommend that you be busted down a grade when we get back."
Collins was silent for a moment. To Leonard, it seemed like an empty threat, but Collins' "I understand, sir" seemed genuinely contrite.
Andrews nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't care if you're friends or if you hate each other's guts. From now on, that is irrelevant. We are going to start looking out for each other. From this moment on your first responsibility is to the men you're standing with, shoulder to shoulder—all of them! They are your brothers," he said, with chilling emphasis. "If someone is too tired to take care of himself, then whoever is able-bodied will take up the slack. If someone gets sick, the rest of us will give up a portion of our food to make sure he eats well. We are only as strong as our weakest member. Do I make myself clear?"
Andrews waited to hear a chorus of assent, then continued, "Good. They took away our uniforms, but they can't take away who we are." He took a breath. "Unless we let them. And we will not let them. If even one of us makes it out of here, he will tell our story, and I want it to say that the men of the Atlantis behaved with the dignity, courage and loyalty of Starfleet officers."
Amen, Leonard thought.
"Sir," Raj said tentatively, after a pause, "I understand what you're saying, and you're a hundred per cent right. We need to help each other and cooperate. But… what do you think we should do? Try to escape and make it to Alpheus, or wait it out for three years and hope for the best?" Heads were nodding; Raj had said aloud what they were all thinking.
"The answer to that is clear," Andrews said quietly. "It's called the Starfleet Code of Conduct. At ease, men." Then he seemed to reconsider, sighed, and said, "Actually… just sit down. We're all tired."
He gestured to the bunk behind them, and the men rearranged themselves so they were sitting across from him, four on the bed and the others on the floor in a semi-circle. Yoshida, Leonard noticed, looked alert and more animated than he'd been for days. Jim was sitting on the floor, hands wrapped around his knees, and Leonard took a place beside him.
"As I was saying… we all know the Code, sir," Raj said. Even Leonard, in his shortened basic training course, had taken the mandatory seminar, although he hadn't really been paid attention. The idea that he might be captured in battle by some unknown enemy in deep space had seemed absurd back then.
"Why don't you refresh our memories," Andrews suggested.
Raji shrugged. "The relevant part says, 'If I am taken prisoner or captured, I will use all available means to resist my captors and do everything in my power to escape when possible.' That's not a very clear instruction manual."
"Escape's going to be pretty difficult, from what I can see," Aquino said. "We're locked in here at night. The guards are always armed and there are sentries all around the perimeter."
"We can't give up," Jim said, but without his usual belligerence. "We just have keep looking, keep checking for weaknesses in the security."
"We should find out as much as we can about Alpheus," Leonard put in. Jim gave him a brief smile, nodding in agreement.
"I hate to be a pessimist, but…" Collins shook his head. "We need to be realistic. Nobody could cross that wilderness without equipment and supplies. I've been out there for a week now with the construction crew. Believe me, it's uninhabitable, just a barren wasteland. You'd starve or die of exposure within days."
"Actually, Kirk's right, I think," Cho said, and Jim looked at him in surprise. "I know it looks pretty bleak, but we have a responsibility to look for a way, and the situation might change. We need to be open to opportunities."
"What about 'use all available means to resist'… Does that mean we should refuse to go out on the work crews?" Fredericks asked. "But they'll shoot us."
"I don't think Starfleet means for us to commit suicide," Yoshida said, speaking up for the first time. "We need to use our judgment."
"We do," Andrews confirmed. "You'll do your best to resist where you can and escape if at all possible, but use your good sense. Until that time, we help each other to survive."
Sound advice, Leonard thought. Andrews was a good man. Maybe they'd be all right, after all.
The dust storm came up the next day with no warning. A siren blew through the camp, startling Leonard in his protected booth near the duranium reactor. His first, terrified thought was that someone had made a run for it, and he could only hope that it wasn't Jim. Leonard knew that Jim, for all his bravado, was more vulnerable than he let on, and a hell of a lot more impulsive than he should be.
The men were hustled toward the exit of the plant, and it was only when they stepped outside that Leonard had any idea what was wrong. The wind was gusting and the air was so full of dust particles that it was hard to keep his eyes open to see where he was going. He staggered behind Yoshida, Fredericks, and the other workers heading toward the barracks, keeping his hand planted over his mouth and nose as a makeshift filter. Fredericks was bent over and coughing as he moved forward.
Just before they entered the barracks, he felt a belated flash of worry for the others. Collins and Cho were out on construction, Jim was in the mines, and Aquino was with Andrews and Raj in the relatively unprotected maintenance sheds. Were they still out there? He turned back in the direction of the mines, squinting into the distance. He could just make out the edges of the pit a few hundred meters away, partially obscured by the swirling dust, but couldn't see any of the mine workers.
Beyond the mine, rising up into the sky, was an enormous wall of dust, billowing up like a massive tidal wave. It looked gargantuan and terrifying, and holy God, it was headed their way.
Heart thumping wildly, he followed the others into the barracks. The guard hurried back out, slamming the door. "That's the last of them," he heard him call from outside as the electronic lock clicked.
Even inside, the air was heavy with dust, casting a gloomy aura over everything. Fredericks was still coughing. He'd had asthma as a child, Leonard remembered. Damn it, all this dust…
"We're all here, doc," Andrews told him. "Christ, that came up fast."
He looked around. Instead of the dark anxiety he'd expected, the other workers seemed to be in good spirits. The Risian group was crowded around some kind of makeshift board game, and here and there he heard spirited talking… even laughing.
"These storms take two days, minimum," Raji said with a grin, following his gaze. "Looks like we've got a holiday."
"Two days off work, and nowhere to go," Jim said, giving him a meaningful look. "I know just what we can do."
"I'm willing to give this a try, doc," Fredericks said nervously, sitting awkwardly on his bunk with his back against the wall. "I'll do anything to help us get out of here, but I don't think it's going to work." For want of a better place, Leonard was sitting at the foot of the bed, and they'd set up blankets to hang down from the upper bunk. It gave an illusion of solitude. Jim had put himself in charge of making sure the Atlantis men gave them at least an hour's privacy, but there wasn't much they could do to shut out the constant chatter of the others around them.
"We'll just be using a guided imagery technique, that's all," Leonard said, keeping his voice low and calm. "Nothing complicated. At the very least, you'll have a nice rest."
"That's what I'm afraid of. I haven't been able to get a good night's sleep since we got here. I'll probably just fall asleep. Maybe I shouldn't lie down…" He coughed, then took a deep breath. "God, the air's full of dust."
"Don't lie down," Leonard said quickly. "Just lean against the wall and get as comfortable as you can." Fredericks already seemed to be having occasional breathing difficulties; lying prone would exacerbate them. "I'll get you some water before we start—"
Fredericks put a hand on Leonard's arm to stop him. "Nah, it's okay." He sighed. "I keep thinking about my sister Kathy, how excited she was about this place. She loved the idea of joining a new colony, being part of a new community. For all I know, she's on her way here now... I swear, doc, she had no idea of what was going on. She was just looking for somewhere safe to raise her family."
"Of course she was, Fredericks," Leonard told him, with as much sincerity as he could muster. It was hard not to feel resentment toward the wealthy citizens of Alpheus, blithely going about their business while he labored in this hell, but the last thing the kid needed right now was the added anxiety of guilt. "She's not responsible for this. And nobody blames you."
"I told her I'd come visit her out here if I could get leave. Ironic, huh?"
"I suppose." He clearly wanted some kind of reassurance, or maybe just acceptance, but all Leonard could muster was a half-smile. "Jim's going to keep everybody away for an hour, so let's get started. Just lean back against the wall, get as comfortable as you can, and close your eyes. Listen to my voice, that's all. We're going to focus on breathing…"
Leonard led him gently through some deep breathing exercises. In the semi-quiet of their cocooned space, he could hear a slight wheezing every time Fredericks inhaled, and his respiration rate seemed elevated. "Just breathe," he said soothingly, his mouth slipping into a frown.
Definitely asthma. It wasn't acute yet, but if it developed, it could go downhill fast. The most effective treatment would be to remove the environmental trigger, but short of waving a magic wand, he couldn't get rid of the dust. There was nothing in their meager medical supplies that could be used as a bronchodilator, no corticosteroids, not even intubation equipment…
"Doc?" Fredericks asked, eyes still closed. "You still there?"
Leonard realized, to his chagrin, that he'd stopped speaking. "In…out. In… out," he said, forcing himself back to the present. Worrying about a worst-case scenario wasn't going to do either of them any good. "Now begin to create a picture in your mind of a place where you can completely relax…"
He hadn't used the relaxation technique much since his psychiatric rotation back when he was an intern, but he'd done it so often back then that the memorized script came back to him almost effortlessly. He slowed his speech down and kept his tone low and calm. As he spoke, he felt his drawl become more pronounced, as if the cadences of his childhood were unconsciously associated, in his mind, with a more relaxing, slower time of his life. He let his thoughts drift, and the words of an old song his mother used to sing came back to him.
Oh, Georgia, no peace I find
Just an old sweet song
Keeps Georgia on my mind
The tune filled him with such melancholy that it literally caused a pain in his chest. God, his poor mother, alone in Atlanta… What had they told her? Images of his mother weeping quietly in her room, staring out the window, filled his mind.
He couldn't do this, couldn't keep thinking about her. He wrenched himself harshly out of his reverie and forced his attention back to Fredericks. He needed to focus on his patient and on the job he was supposed to be doing, which might give them a key to getting back home.
If they were very, very lucky.
Fredericks lay quietly for several minutes after they finished, eyes half-open, looking relaxed and calm. Leonard let him be, enjoying the relative peace and quiet as long as it lasted. From just outside their little tent, he could hear two Tellarites arguing in their harsh-sounding language, with its guttural glottals and whistling sibilants. Closer by, Aquino and Cho were laughing about something, and then quickly hushed by some of the others.
Fredericks blinked and seemed to shake himself, then sat up. "You know, I actually remembered something," he said, looking pensive. "A couple of things, in fact… Maybe you'd better—" He coughed, then continued, "It's probably nothing important, I don't know how it could help us… but still. It's not something I remembered before." He coughed again. "It's a little stuffy in here, doc. Maybe we should go out and talk to the guys."
His breaths were coming faster, and the faint wheeze, which had disappeared during the relaxation exercises, was back again. "Sure," Leonard said gently. "I'll get you some water now, and we'll call the others."
"—these amazing hydroponics labs, I remember," Fredericks told the others with a touch of enthusiasm. "The soil's not very fertile… so they're using cutting-edge controlled environmental systems… doing some interesting research." He paused for breath.
"It's not surprising you'd remember that," Andrews said. "Sounds like your field of interest."
Fredericks was sitting on the bunk, with the rest of the Atlantis men hanging close. Leonard kept close to Fredericks, listening more to his breathing than to what he was saying.
He wasn't doing well. Already, he had a pronounced wheeze and his breathing was more labored, signs of bronchoconstriction. The dusty haze that floated in the air around them was irritating his breathing passages, inflaming and narrowing them. Unless the storm let up within the next few hours, Fredericks' hyper-reactive airways would eventually become clogged with mucus and his muscles would become too constricted to breathe effectively.
Hypoxemia, hypercapnia, acidosis… There would be no stopping it.
Fredericks was nodding, unaware of Leonard's gloomy thoughts. "Botany and environmental science." Wheeze. "The dome's got some pretty amazing technology." Another breath.
"Did you remember anything else?"
"Well, I looked at the UV protection in the dome, radiation shielding… the pressurization system, things like that." Some of the men exchanged glances, and he went on a little defensively, "Kathy asked me to look at the technical specs. To make sure the dome was safe."
"Great," Raj said, shaking his head. "Now we know that the colonists are healthy and well-fed in their little high-tech dome. That takes a load off my mind."
Aquino spoke up. "What do you remember about the layout of the colony? Where's the main entrance?" Fredericks shrugged, looking blank. "Well, when's the next transport of colonists due? Did your sister tell you?"
"I don't know… She was supposed to leave pretty soon. I don't know exactly when."
"Anything else, Lieutenant?" Andrews' voice was steady, but he wasn't able to keep the frustration off his face.
"Just random things… They've got some sort of natural water source, a river that flows under and through the dome." Fredericks took a deep breath, with an audible wheeze that made Leonard grimace. "And there's a system of huge particulate air filters… to keep the dust out. Some kind of… carbonized microfiber layers…"
Cho shook his head. "Freddy, if we get ever get out of here, you've got to get a new hobby. Who the hell cares about the air filters?"
"We do," Jim said suddenly. "Don't you get it? Air filters mean air vents. Vents to the outside."
Aquino bolted to his feet, giving Jim a sidewise grin. "That's it! That's our way into the colony."
"We need to know where the vents are exactly," Andrews said. "And how high off the ground they are, what the filters are made of. But it's a possibility. Good call, Kirk."
"That's if we can somehow escape in the first place," Collins said. "And make it to Alpheus alive."
"And convince the colonists not to turn us in as escaped convicts," Raj added.
Fredericks seemed pleased with himself, answering their questions as well as he could. When Leonard remembered that later, he could only think, At least he felt he contributed something. At least he knew that he helped.
When the attack began in its full fury almost seven hours later, the deterioration was rapid and severe. Fredericks had been talking quietly with Cho and Collins, not three meters away from where Leonard had been resting on his bunk, listening to the wind gusting outside the barracks. The dust storm was still going full force.
"Doctor McCoy! Quick!" Cho yelled, the fear in his voice palpable. Within seconds Leonard was at Fredericks' side, supporting him as he hunched over, his neck muscles straining as if he was trying to force air into his lungs. He was breathing rapidly, the wheezing audible and almost constant, but didn't seem to be getting much air at all.
Status asthmaticus.
"Do something!" Cho said frantically.
But he couldn't. He knew exactly what was happening and how to treat it, but without medicine and without equipment, there was nothing he could do, other than support the man and try to keep him as calm as possible. He instructed the others to lower him gently to his bunk and keep him in a sitting position, but Fredericks was already gasping for air and his lips and fingernails were turning blue.
Leonard sat beside him, feeling him shake and listening to his coarse wheezing as he suffocated. He could only wrap his arms around him and whisper helplessly in his ear, "It's all right. It'll be all right."
It was over in minutes.