With a heavy sigh, Ensign Mia Carpenter settled in on the hard dirt floor of the hut she'd been assigned. The bed she'd been offered was infested with bedbugs, and she felt horrible taking it from the hollow eyed little boy who'd offered. Besides, with the hard metal cuff on her ankle and the oxygen mask strapped to her face, she wouldn't be sleeping very well anyway. Might as well not take the small comfort from the boy who had little else.
Surely someone would come for her. They wouldn't just leave her to rot in this sorry excuse for a civilization. And she could last for a little while doing hard labor. She wasn't some white lily grown in a vase, untouched by the real world. She was the daughter of a farmer. This was nothing.
She hoped.
She hadn't been exposed to the labor they actually did yet. And she didn't know if this planet's atmosphere would impact the difficulty of the work. It didn't seem that much different than what she was used to, but without tools to tell her for sure... she didn't want to be surprised, but she didn't have a whole lot of choice.
One of the women snored. Another talked in her sleep, all night, and sometimes it wasn't quiet. Sometimes it was full on yelling, and yet no one else seemed at all bothered by it. They were used to it, it seemed. Mia was not. So she laid awake most of the night, dying to go for a late night walk but knowing the ankle cuff would shock her brains out if she stepped one toe out of the invisible boundary. And when morning finally came, she knew the day wasn't going to go well for her.
She woke to an old woman standing over her, a syringe in hand and a defeated look on her face. "Come, sweetheart, time morning injection."
Mia scrambled backwards, sliding across the dirt and hitting one of the bunked beds hard. "Stay away from me." She snarled, her hand looking for a phaser that wasn't there.
"Must have injection, sweetheart." The way the woman said the word, with every letter perfectly enunciated and hard, made it sound like a less than sweet word, and it made Mia even more anxious. She'd thought of these people as slaves, but perhaps they were just playing the part. Maybe they were more sinister than they had seemed.
"I don't need it, and I warn you, I'm skilled at hand to hand combat, and... and Starfleet is coming for me, and if you do anything-"
"You do not have injection, they do not let you live." So matter of fact, as if it was normal to be threatened with unknown injection or death. Both of which could end in death.
"What is it?" Maybe they would tell her. Maybe they knew. Maybe it wouldn't be something that would turn her into a mindless slave like some of these seemed to be. Or maybe the effects would at least wear off, given time. Maybe if she submitted to it now, eventually she could return to herself.
"Keeps air from changing you. Keep you weak. Easy to control. Must take, or they kill."
Mia frowned. "The air..."
"Changes. Makes strong. Fast. Like the large ones."
Mia's frown deepened. "If I don't..."
"They kill."
"I know, but if I don't... I'll get stronger?"
"Strong. Fast. But they kill you."
She didn't know these people. She still didn't trust this injection, or the things this old lady who only had a stunted idea of what English was supposed to be. But on the off chance that this was the serum they'd given the Captain, and that these people didn't want to be slaves to 'the large ones' anymore than Mia did...
"Can you pretend?"
"Pretend?" The woman tilted her head like a confused dog, her eyebrows furrowing.
"Do they do a blood scan for it, or is it just the little prick? I suppose that's an important bit of information, because obviously I can't replicate it without any equipment or anything. But if they don't look very closely – and let's face it, their technology doesn't seem all that advanced, for all their signal blocking abilities and general largeness. They're living in a rock, for heaven's sake."
The old woman and the others, who were rising from their beds, getting dressed, and doing various other activities to get ready for the day, were staring at her, wondering what nonsense the girl was spouting.
"Check neck, make sure, no blood. Just hole." The old woman must have more knowledge of English than the others, who still looked like they didn't understand what was happening. Although Mia was sure the old woman had only gotten the barest gist of what she was talking about.
That was fine. That's all she needed. She could work with that.
"So can you just... poke me?"
"They kill."
"Yes yes, I know, but if you poke me then it'll look like... but I won't be affected, see? So I can get you all out of here once I get back to my ship and tell them... But instead you could give me the serum in there, and I could take it back, and I'll get you all out of here so you can live real lives and not be slaves anymore, you see? Do you understand?"
"Get... out?"
"Yes, you won't have to be slaves anymore, my Captain won't... he's sick, but he won't let you stay here as slaves. He'll help you. He'll make sure you're free." If it's the last thing he does. She hated herself for thinking that. Once she got the serum, he'd be fine. They'd reverse the reversal and he'd be fine and everything would go back to the way it was.
"We... most born here. Do not know free. It is good?"
"It's... yes. It is good."
The old woman nodded once, her eyes set. "Then we help. I Tierney. Once free. Do not remember. Help you. We be free."
And without warning, she jabbed the needle into Mia's neck, not pressing the plunger before pulling it out. Then she pulled the cartridge containing the fluid out and put it under the boy's mattress, the one that was supposed to be hers.
"You will be strong."
It was when the official officers came to seize the ship for the Federation that things really started to go south.
The first thing they'd done is replace Sulu with some hulking, detail-oriented tyrant whose first order of business was to leave the planet, hopefully leaving Bones, Spock, and the mostly dead former Captain Kirk among the hostiles they'd just escaped. Only because Starfleet refused to leave one of the few Vulcans and a star Medical Officer behind was that notion refused, and the medbay effectively became a prison. There were guards stationed outside the doors, and while they were friends of the three captives, they had to keep their careers in mind. So they only had the barest conversations with the two men who were able to speak, and asked about the third only when it seemed he was about gone.
Bones stuck a hypo in Kirk's neck, injecting him with medication that slowed down his bodily systems in the hopes that he'd last just long enough for Carpenter to return. Which had better be soon, or she wasn't going home with them, and Kirk wasn't going to see her ever again.
"This'll kill the kid worse than the radiation, if we keep him on it too long." Bones muttered, sitting back down. They didn't have access to anything better, though. He rubbed a hand across his face as if he could wipe away the heavy bags under his eyes and the tired lines around his mouth.
"We do not have a choice." Spock's voice was quiet, saying exactly what was going through McCoy's head.
"He's gotta be alive to defend his honor against those federations idiots." Bones muttered, watching Kirk's still face. He didn't wake when they questioned him anymore, because he couldn't. Not in the coma he was forced into.
"We may have to do so for him." Spock's voice was stronger with those words. Spock would do well at defending the Captain logically, but Kirk had a certain charisma to him, a certain devil may care attitude that either charmed the higher ups into doing what he wanted, or made them so angry that they gave him a chance in the hopes that he would fail. Logic would only get them so far, and it was easy to disregard some facts in light of others.
"Yeah. We may." But it would be infinitely better if they didn't. If Kirk could do it for himself.
The door opened quietly, and both Spock and Bones looked up from their respective resting places. Chekov stood just inside, the door closing behind him.
"How is ze Keptin?" His voice was quiet, lacking the energetic edge it usually held.
"It's not good. What's the Tyrant doing?"
"He iz in ze process of getting ze ship ready to leave."
"The Enterprise does not require a pre-departure check." Spock's voice was slightly confused, hinting at the question, 'What's wrong with the Captain's baby?'
"She is missing some key parts." There was a devilish grin on Chekov's face as he pulled a small piece of metal out of his pocket. Bones had absolutely no idea what it was, but Spock's eyes lit up with what could almost be described as glee. "I don't think it belongs in ze medbay."
"What is it?" Bones muttered, although the glee of the other two was catching. If they couldn't go anywhere, they couldn't leave Carpenter behind. And if she had more time to get to them, maybe...
But she'd still have to move quickly. As if they had the same thought, they all turned to look at the captain. It was as if he was a different person, without his command gold and lying thin among the white bedding.
"It will keep the ship from leaving, Doctor. That is the important thing."
"Right. Just don't get caught, kid, or you'll be stuck in here with us."
"I will not be caught." The determination in his voice convinced them all of his intention to remain an unknown traitor to the Tyrant, but his chest deflated shortly after. "But I will be questioned for my absence. I must go."
The Russian paused as he looked at the Captain one more time before scurrying away. He had appearances to keep up, and he could only be gone from the bridge for so long before an investigation would be launched on him. The Tyrant ran a tight ship. A suffocating ship. And Chekov was still under suspicion, because apparently being young meant he was infinitely more impressionable and more likely to throw his loyalty to Kirk.
Of course, his loyalty was to Kirk, but his age had nothing to do with that.
"C'mon Spock, it's time for your checkup." Bones sighed heavily as he stood from the chair in the corner, his favorite spot now that he wasn't allowed to go to his own bed. Spock laid obediently in his bed, taking the deepest breaths he could without causing undue pain as he did every time Bones pulled out the scanner. And like every other time for the past few days, Bones muttered that there was some improvement, that the healing was going better and faster than expected, and that Spock should be able to get up in a week or so, for extremely limited times. And then they both returned to their positions, Bones in his chair and Spock propped up in his bed, and waited for the next visit from their spy.
Their lives had suddenly gotten very dull and very stressful all at once, and Bones, for one, was not a fan.
A/N: Thank you for your lovely comments! I hope you'll continue to enjoy my writing, and that I continue to have muse so you may do so. Thanks for reading!