Chapter 11
Nyota stood in the sun before the Riverside Dance Studio, waiting for her mother to arrive to pick up her and her friends, twisting a strand of long, braided hair between her fingers.
Beside her, Gaila had her arms crossed and was impatiently drumming her fingers. Christine was peering eagerly down the street, searching for Nyota's mother's maroon SUV, and Janice was halfheartedly practicing one of the new dance moves they had learned that day, looking up every few seconds to see if their ride was there.
All four of them were tired, sweat-streaked, sore and impatient.
"What kind of car do you think Jim's got?" Gaila asked Nyota, curiously.
Nyota shrugged. "Something that can only fit five people counting him, so not an SUV or a minivan or something."
Gaila nodded in agreement. "Hopefully it's something cool," she said, "Like a racing car, or something."
"Since when have you ever cared about cars?" Nyota asked, a bemused expression on her face as she turned to face Gaila.
"Whaddaya mean?" Gaila asked, popping a stick of gum into her mouth and starting to chew. "I've always liked cars."
"Not like this," Nyota answered.
Gaila shrugged and blew a pink bubble in response.
"Who do you think Jim got to drive you guys?" Nyota asked.
"I dunno," Gaila mused, "His mom's off planet, and I dunno about his stepdad…" She shrugged again. "I don't know who else Jim knows who can drive."
"Hmmph," Nyota murmured thoughtfully, studying a spot on the round.
"Ny, your mom's here," Gaila announced, as Nyota's mother pulled up in a large, maroon SUV, blasting the girls' favorite music. Nyota's mother gave the girls a friendly wave through the window.
The girls piled into the SUV, all greeting Nyota's mother, and the SUV made a U-turn and started heading back the way it had come.
As Nyota buckled her seatbelt, a crazy thought occurred to her. What if Jim…she thought, but trailed off, smiling to herself. …Nah…that's just too crazy.
Ten minutes later, Gaila stepped out of Nyota's mother's car, waving to Nyota as the SUV turned and pulled into the house right across the street.
She turned and headed up the path to her own house, stepping up to the door and turning the doorknob.
The door didn't budge.
She huffed an irritated sigh, stepped back, looked up to the second floor and shouted: "CRAY!"
A window opened and the head of her second-eldest brother poked out, his jaw partly covered in shaving cream.
"What?" he asked, grinning playfully.
"Unlock the door, ya pile of slug guts, I gotta be somewhere!" Gaila yelled.
"What's the password?" he asked, leaning on the windowsill and lazily dangling his razor over the porch.
"You're a prank-playing, gray-faced, piratey pile of slugs!" she fired back, crossing her arms impatiently.
"That's the one!" Cray replied, cheerfully stepping away from the window.
About a minute later, the front door swung open and Gaila marched inside, heading straight past her brother toward the stairs.
"I need the bathroom, so hurry up," she told him as she headed upstairs.
"Jeez, I'm already done," Cray grinned, following and holding up his hands in mock-protest. He ran a hand over his bare jaw. "Smooth as sea glass. So what hot date are you going on?"
"Go swallow a slug, Cray," Gaila rolled her eyes, reaching the bathroom and slamming the door shut.
Cray merely laughed.
Across the street, Nyota's room.
When she got home, Nyota had wasted no time in rushing upstairs, putting away her dance stuff, and showering. Now she stood in her underwear, staring at her closet, wide-eyed, completely indecisive.
What do I wear, what do I wear? she thought, her eyes flitting from one hanger to the next.
"Nyota!" came her mother's voice from downstairs.
"Yeah?" Nyota asked.
"Christine's mom called—she says she'll be here in about ten minutes!"
Nyota's heart skipped a beat. "Okay," she answered.
Oh my God, what do I wear?
Finally she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and reached forward into the closet, grabbing two hangers at random.
When she opened her eyes, she found that she was holding a pair of faded blue jeans and a green tank top.
She glanced to her window, where sunlight was streaming through the curtains.
She smiled, looking back at the tank top.
I can go sleeveless, she thought.
Gaila studied herself in the mirror, looking critically over her outfit.
She had chosen jeans and sneakers to be practical, just in case they ended up sneaking around the shipyard, and she her lucky shirt—her favorite shirt from when she lived on Orion. It was sleeveless, sturdy and canvas white, with the phrase: "Hunter or Hunted?" written on it in Orion in blue ink. She hardly wore it now because it was starting to get too small for her, but noticing the way it just barely showed her stomach when she stretched over, Gaila had smiled and decided it would be perfect for the job. She was also wearing earrings (all Orion girls had their ears pierced at birth) and several bracelets.
Professing herself satisfied with the outfit, she grinned and headed downstairs and out the door.
Nyota had just finished tugging on her shoes and pulling her hair into a ponytail when the doorbell rang.
She headed downstairs and opened the front door to find Christine standing there, her white-blonde hair pulled into pigtails and her enormous blue eyes shining with excitement.
"We're going to pick up Leonard next!" she squealed.
Nyota managed a weak smile. "Bye, Mom!" she called over her shoulder and started toward Christine's mother's minivan, where waited Janice and an uncomfortable looking Hikaru, huddled in the back seat, shrinking into the leather.
Nyota's mother appeared at the door behind Nyota and waved goodbye, thanking Christine's mother, who smiled and promised to have Nyota back by nine.
Nyota and Christine climbed into the car, buckled in, and waited as Christine's mother turned the van around, heading for Len's house.
Gaila arrived at the playground at exactly four thirty, just as Spock was waving goodbye to his mother, who was driving away around the corner. Scotty and Pavel were there, and Scotty was showing Pavel the dirt launcher, testing it.
But no Jim.
"See, ye take it like this," Scotty was saying, pointing the barrel of the dirt launcher at the ground, "an' ye release the spring tae load it." He pulled the trigger and a small tuna can on a spring shot out of the barrel and into the ground and bounced back, now full of dirt. "Hey, Gaila." Scotty gave her a friendly wave.
"Hi," Gaila said, scanning the playground. "Where's Jim?"
"He's nae here," Scotty answered, resetting the spring, pulling the tuna can back into the barrel. "An' then," he told Pavel, "ye fire away."
He pointed the dirt launcher at the sky and pulled the trigger again, and a tuna can-sized dirt clod went flying into the distance.
"Cool!" Pavel exclaimed, "Can I try?"
"Go ahead," Scotty said, cheerfully handing Pavel the gun.
"Is he usually late?" Gaila asked.
"No," Spock replied, "it is unusual for Jim to arrive any time but early."
"Hmm." Gaila pulled her gum out of her pocket and put a piece in her mouth, starting to chew.
"Dinnae worry, ye two," Scotty told them, casually taking a seat on an old crate and leaning back against one of the antique cars, "He'll be here."
Len's house, the living room.
"Len," called Len's grandmother serenely from the kitchen, "isn't that girl gonna be here soon? Catherine? Caitlyn?"
Upstairs in his room, Len sighed. "Christine, Grandma," he answered, "her name's Christine."
"Oh, yes…" came the absent reply, "…well, I have some cookies for you!"
Len sighed again. "Okay," he said, starting down the stairs, heading into the kitchen where his grandmother was sitting down, an enormous plate of cookies on the table next to a tall glass of milk.
"Thanks," said Len quietly, sliding into his seat and dejectedly dipping one of the warm cookies into the milk.
His grandmother cocked her head to one side, looking curiously at her grandson. "What's wrong?"
Len shrugged, not particularly wanting to share his thoughts on Christine.
His grandmother pushed up her glasses on her nose and sat across from him, helping herself to a cookie. She stayed silent for a moment, and then spoke: "You know," she began, "When I'm sad, I think about dormice tap-dancing on the shells of turtles."
Len looked up at her, a puzzled expression on his face.
"It makes me laugh," his grandmother confided, nodding.
Len blinked. "How'd you come up with that?" he asked.
His grandmother shrugged, smiling absently into the middle distance, "Oh, just a dream I had once," she said, trailing off and taking a bite of cookie.
Len stared at her for a moment, wondering what she'd been doing before she'd had that dream. When she didn't speak, he took a sip of milk, completely bewildered.
Then the doorbell rang, snapping both of them out of the spell.
"That must be her," Len's grandmother said.
Len nodded, finishing off his cookie and chasing it down with milk as he stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. "Thanks for the cookies, Grandma," he said, giving her a small smile.
"Have fun," his grandmother answered, smiling serenely still.
Len pulled on his jacket and opened the front door to a beaming Christine with her hair pulled into pigtails and her eyes wide.
"Hi, Leonard!" she squealed.
Len felt his face burn again. "Hi, Christine," he answered, dully.
"Come on!" Christine said, giddily turning and starting for the minivan parked in front of Len's house.
Len sighed and, resigned to his fate, trudged after her. Dormice and turtles, Len, he thought, Dormice and turtles.
Jim's house: at the end of Derby Drive.
Jim shut the front door and walked out into the sun, his stepfather's words echoing in his head: "Go on, get outta here! And don't make noise while the game's on!"
From inside, he could hear the volume of the TV going up. No doubt his stepfather wanted no distractions as he started off on his usual weekend binge.
Good, Jim thought, that'll help…
He looked left, then right, looking to see if anyone was around. The street was empty.
A small smile curved Jim's lips as he turned around and started for the garage.
Back at the playground, Gaila was beginning to get antsy. Every minute or two she'd head over to Spock, grab his wrist, check the time on his watch, and then huff a sigh and cross her arms, pacing off in a circle.
Spock, despite his usual aura of calm, was concerned as well, and stood looking down Derby Drive for any sign of Jim's short, lean blond figure walking toward them.
Scotty and Pavel occupied themselves with taking turns firing the dirt launcher.
The fifth time Gaila checked Spock's watch, she threw her hands up, marched over to where Scotty and Pavel were sitting, and sat on one of the old tires, an irritated look on her face.
"He's late," Gaila announced.
"Jes' five minutes," Scotty answered, reasonably, "Be patient, lassie, he'll be here. Maybe he's jes' havin' difficulty with the ride."
"Well, I hope he gets here soon," Gaila muttered, "I don't wanna have to rush to catch up with the others…" She trailed off, frowning. "Do you hear that?"
"It is an automobile," Spock called from his place near the street.
"Probably not for us," Gaila muttered.
"It is decelerating," Spock answered.
Gaila looked up in surprise. She, Scotty and Pavel stood and headed over to where Spock was standing to see a classic red convertible approaching the playground.
Scotty stared at the car. "That's a 2067 convertible!" he realized. He squinted at the driver. "Is that…" he began, trailing off. His eyes went huge.
The car continued by Farmer Barrett's house and rolled to a stop before the playground, the engine rumbling like a jungle cat.
Scotty's mouth fell open, and Pavel's eyes went wide. Spock cocked his head to one side. Gaila simply stared.
The car had stopped for them.
Jim was sitting in the driver's seat.
For a moment, all was silent.
Then Jim, with a small smile on his face asked, "Well, are you guys coming?"
A shocked, delighted grin spread across Gaila's face.
"Shotgun!" she shrieked, heading over to the car and jumping into the front seat.
Spock frowned as Scotty and Pavel went for the back.
"Jim," he began, "I do not believe this is legal."
Jim shrugged. "Well, Spock," he began, reasonably, "Neither is sneaking into a shipyard."
Spock raised an eyebrow but said no more as he climbed into the back seat between Scotty and Pavel.
Jim turned around. "Seat belts, guys?" he asked, "And gal?"
The boys and Gaila buckled in.
"Ok, let's get outta here!"
Jim revved the engine and turned left onto the road to the shipyard, flying past the corn under a blue sky and a shining sun.
Meanwhile, Christine's group had taken a different route to the shipyard and Christine's mother was playing the radio on a "kid-friendly", as the speakers called it, station that seemed only to play cutesy, rock-n'-roll sing-a-longs that none of them had ever heard before.
Janice was riding shotgun, with Nyota sitting right behind her, and Hikaru sitting behind Nyota in the furthest back section of the car. Christine was sitting behind her mother, leaning back over the seat to talk to Len, who was next to Hikaru in the far back.
Pleeeease, pleeeeease let this be over soon, Len thought miserably as Christine grilled him with all sorts of the most random questions, giggling whenever she found that they had something in common and squeaking, "Me too!"
Every once in awhile, she would break away to talk to the other girls, and Len could breathe easy.
During one of these breaks, Len turned to Hikaru and said in a low voice, "I wonder how Jim's getting on."
Hikaru shrugged. "I dunno," he answered, "but whatever he's doing, he's probably having more fun than this."
Christine turned back to Len at that moment and asked, gleefully, "Do you like ice cream, Leonard? I love ice cream."
Len resisted the urge to scream.
Gaila let out a scream of elation with the song blasting on the radio as the convertible tore down the road, sending up an enormous cloud of dirt in its wake.
In the back seat, Scotty was grinning and Pavel's curly hair was flying in every direction but forward. Spock, wedged between them, looked as if he were about to puke.
"Where didja get this thing?" Gaila shrieked, bouncing up and down in her seat (as much as the seatbelt would allow) "And how didja learn how to drive?"
"I've taken it out before, to wash it," Jim answered, grinning.
Gaila's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "No. Way," she said.
Just then, the phone built into the car rang loudly and the music paused. Jim hit the answer button and an angry voice shouted: "Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing with my goddamn car? You think I haven't called the cops to track you down already, you stupid sonofabitch? When I get my hands on you, you are gonna regret it, you dumb bastard—you're probably just some dumbass teenager playing a prank—well it sure as shit ain't funny!" Then—"…Wait a second…Jim?"
Jim hit the off button on the phone and slowly turned to face the boys.
All was silent. Spock, Scotty and Pavel simply stared.
Gaila's mouth was hanging open in shock. Slowly, a grin spread across her face.
"Oh my God, you stole it," she said. She cupped her hands and shrieked at the sky, "I'M DRIVING WITH A CAR JACKER! WHOOOOOHOOOOOOO!"
"Gaila!" Jim protested, but with a smile on his face.
Gaila turned the music back on, shouting, "GRAND THEFT AUTO, BABY, YEAH! WHOOOOOHOOOOOOO!"
In the back seat, Spock took a deep, patient breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, and the convertible sped on.
At 4:45, Christine's group arrived at the shipyard.
Len glanced out the back window of the minivan as it crawled slowly through shipyard security.
How the heck are Jim and everybody else gonna get in? he thought, staring at the high stone wall that stretched around the entire facility, There are Starfleet people everywhere. And that wall's gotta be about ten feet tall.
He watched as Christine's mother showed her clearance pass to the officer at the entrance gate.
How are they gonna get past that?
Len's thoughts were interrupted as Christine leaned back over her seat, asking, "Do you like horses, Leonard?"
Len shrank back into the seat as far as he could go and answered, hesitantly: "…Um…sure. Why?"
"I love horses! We should go horseback riding sometime! There's a ranch not far from Riverside and there's all kinds of horses there and they're really nice, and—"
"Chris!" called a voice.
Christine turned to see that the car had parked, and Janice, Nyota and Christine's mother had already gotten out.
"C'mon, Chris," Nyota said, smiling.
"Coming!" Christine answered. "Just before exiting the car, she turned to Len again, adding, "It'd be fun!"
Len breathed a weary sigh as Christine bounded out onto the ground. He sent a grim smile to Nyota and mouthed: Thanks.
Nyota shrugged and smiled in return. No problem.
Len followed Hikaru out of the car and into the sun, where Christine was bouncing up and down, giddily.
"So, who's up for ice cream?" asked Christine's mother, smiling.
Christine, Janice, Nyota and Hikaru all cheered.
Len blinked in surprise and he started to follow the group of kids and Christine's mother across the parking lot.
Ice cream…?
Back in the convertible, the shipyard had come into view, and Jim started slowing down, turning down the volume of the music.
"It appears we are on the back side of the shipyard," said Spock, as he regarded the high, stone wall around the facility. "I do not see an entrance."
"Yeah, I took one of the back roads," Jim replied, "Less people to see us."
"You mean you've been out here before?" Gaila asked, her eyes widening.
Jim shrugged modestly, a small smile on his face. "Once or twice," he answered.
"How exactly do we plan on gettin' in here, then?" Scotty asked, frowning at the wall. "We canna exactly dig under this, can we?"
"No," Jim told him, still smiling, "but I've got a plan."
He continued for another hundred yards or so until he reached a section of the wall where there was an old, solitary, knotted tree growing next to it.
He parked the car and took out the keys, stuffing them into his pocket as he hopped out. He headed around the back of the car and opened the trunk, pulling out a long, thick, coiled rope.
" 'Kay," he said as the others followed him, "See that branch there?"
He pointed to a thick branch hanging low over the wall of the shipyard. The others nodded, and he continued:
"First, I'll climb up that tree, then tie the end of the rope to that branch. Then I'll go out on the branch and lower myself down on the other side. You guys can climb over, and I'll hold the rope taut so it's easier. Okay?"
"Sounds good, let's go!" Gaila grinned, starting for the tree after Jim, but Spock spoke up, interrupting:
"Wait…" he began, frowning, "…I hear something."
He fell silent, straining his ears.
Slowly, he turned back to the road, staring into the distance.
Then, not more than a hundred feet away, there came the sound of a large, steel gate sliding out of the way, and a truck appeared from within the shipyard.
All five of the kids ducked and hid behind the convertible as the truck turned right and started heading away from them.
As it rolled off into the distance, Jim stood. The others did the same.
"We must be near a gate," Jim remarked, watching the truck grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared around a corner.
He turned back to the others. "Right. I'll make sure the coast is clear."
He took the rope and looped it around his arm, and then took hold of the tree, and started to climb.
Jim expertly took hold of two of the many knots on the trunk, dug in his toes, and hoisted himself off the ground, repeating the process until he was high enough to grab a branch that would support his weight, and climbing up onto it.
From there, he carefully stood, took hold of another branch, and pulled himself up onto the branch that hung over the wall.
"What d'ye see?" Scotty called.
Jim looked over the wall and then back at the others. A smile had appeared on his face. "You'll see."
He tied the rope tightly around the branch, tugging on it just in case as he scooted further down the branch, dangled his feet over the edge, and stepped onto the stone wall.
Jim held himself steady against the branch, and tossed the end of the rope down the other side of the wall. Then he took hold of the rope with both hands.
Like a rappeller moving down a cliff face, he slowly leaned back, letting the tree branch and the rope take his weight, starting to lower himself down the wall.
The others watched, their full attention on him, all of them holding their breath.
Gaila caught Jim's eye.
He grinned at her.
And, slowly, Jim disappeared behind the wall.
A few tense moments passed once Jim moved out of the kids' view. They exchanged glances, waiting for someone to break the silence, to volunteer to go next.
Then, from behind the wall, came Jim's voice: "It's all good! Come on over, you guys!"
"Be right there, Jim!" Scotty answered. He looked around at the others. "So…" he began, hesitantly, "…who's next?"
"I'll do it," Gaila volunteered, grinning.
She walked over to the tree and immediately began to climb, moving steadily up the trunk, faster and with more expertise any of the boys in the group.
Pavel and Scotty watched her in awe, wide-eyed and mouths agape.
Jim, standing beside a clump of weeds on the other side of the wall, also watched as Gaila nimbly walked along the branch to the wall and stepped down, taking hold of the rope and walking down the wall as if she had been doing it her whole life.
"You're really good at that," Jim told her as she jumped the remaining two feet onto the dusty, weed-choked ground.
Gaila grinned at him. "I used to climb trees on Orion," she answered, "when I played hunted with my brothers."
"What's hunted?" Jim asked, curiously.
Gaila smiled coyly. "It's a game," she replied, vaguely.
Jim grinned back at her. "You'll have to teach me sometime."
After Gaila came Pavel and Scotty (who had some difficulty with lowering himself down the wall due to the fact that he was carrying the dirt launcher, and ended up stumbling back onto his bottom when he landed), and finally Spock.
"Whoa," Scotty said, getting up and dusting himself off, looking at the surrounding area. "What is this place?"
Stretching about a hundred yards ahead and two hundred yards in length was an area that was completely deserted and overgrown with enormous weeds and tall grass.
"It's perfect, that's what it is," Jim said, "it's an old airstrip—back from when planes had to use a runway, you know? Nobody's around. It's the perfect cover."
"What will we do with the rope?" asked Spock, the moment he landed.
"We can get it afterwards," Jim answered. "Okay. Remember the cover story—we came here with Christine's mom—Mrs. Chapel—and we got lost looking for the bathroom."
The others nodded.
"Right," Jim said, grinning, "let's go."
And he started off through the thick, tall grass toward the main buildings of the shipyard, off in the distance.
The journey across the abandoned airstrip proved to be more difficult than the kids had anticipated. More than once they had to make detours around large clusters of tall weeds, too dense too move through. The ground was weed-choked, dry and dusty and the sun overhead soon surpassed its degree of sunny warmth and moved on to be bright, hot and entirely uncomfortable for the kids as they made their way toward the main section of the shipyard.
By the time they finally stepped out of the jungle and onto paved ground, they were dusty, thirsty, sweating, and irritated.
"Okay," Scotty began, brushing a week's worth of dirt off his jeans, "Let's never go that way again."
"Da," Pavel agreed, nodding.
Jim scanned the surrounding area, looking for Christine and the others, finding none of them. "Right," he began, "Somebody around here's bound to know where Christine and the others are. We'll ask around—"
"No need," Gaila interrupted him flatly, looking out across the parking lot at the building marked "Commissary". "I know where they'll be."
Followed by the boys, she strode across the parking lot to the building, swinging open the door and marching inside to where Christine, Nyota, Hikaru and Len were all sitting at the bar, sipping milkshakes.
Upon hearing the others enter, Christine's group turned around.
Pavel and Scotty both stopped dead in their tracks, their mouths falling open.
"Milkshakes!" Scotty exclaimed.
"Oh, hey," Len said amiably, looking expectantly at Jim, "What took you guys so long?"
The bartender, a slightly chubby, white-haired man wearing a pair of thick glasses looked up at the newcomers from behind the bar. "These them friends of yours, Christine?" he asked Christine, "the ones who came late?"
"Yep," Christine answered, nodding.
"You kids want milkshakes?" the bartender asked, "on the house—always for little Miss Christine, here."
Christine beamed. "Thanks, Bob," she told the bartender.
"Oh, absolutely!" gasped Scotty, scrambling over to the bar and taking a seat.
Pavel followed suit and so did Gaila, all three of them starting to ask for their favorite ice cream flavors.
Only Spock and Jim stayed behind. Jim looked slightly dismayed that they weren't going to get to explore right away, but then he turned to Spock and shrugged, as if to say, "Well, it is ice cream."
He too then walked over to the bar and took a seat, and Spock, not knowing what else to do, did the same.
"D'ye have Butter Rum?" Scotty was asking Bob.
Bob nodded, a wry smile on his wrinkled face. "Aren't you a bit young for hard liquor, young man?" he questioned, jokingly.
Scotty grinned. "I ken hold it," he replied, evenly.
Bob laughed. "All right, Mister, if you say so." He turned to Gaila. "Ah, Miss Gaila. Bubble Gum Blast, your usual?"
"You got it!" Gaila answered, grinning.
"Do you have Sweet Cream?" Pavel asked Bob.
"Certainly," Bob answered.
"Sweet Cream?" Len frowned, "isn't that, like, the blandest flavor of ice cream there is?"
Pavel shrugged. "It tastes like home," he answered.
Bob turned to Jim. "And for you?" he asked.
A grin spread across Jim's face. "Rocky Road all the way!" he said, confidently.
"All right, there's a man who knows what he wants!" Bob turned to Spock. "And for you?"
Spock hesitated. "I…I do not know," he said, slowly, "…I have never had ice cream before."
Everyone turned to Spock, staring at him in horror.
"Never had ice cream?" Len burst out, wide-eyed. "Jeez, what do you eat on Vulcan?"
"Ice cream is not nutritionally valuable," Spock answered, "to Vulcans, it is illogical."
"It's illogically delicious," Scotty told him, grinning.
Bob gave Spock a wry smile. "You wouldn't be Ambassador Sarek's son, would you?"
Spock nodded. "I am."
"Well, there's a first time for everything," Bob said, "How about you try some and see what you like?"
Spock cocked his head to one side and shrugged. "All right," he said.
Everyone watched in anticipation as Bob let Spock sample each flavor of ice cream, leaving out, of course, those containing chocolate. Whenever Spock tried anything that one of the other kids was eating, said kid would lean in, waiting to see whether Spock shared his or her taste in ice cream.
For the most part, Spock did not.
He declared Lime Sherbert far too tangy ("What's wrong with tangy?" asked Hikaru), Butter Rum too sticky ("That's the best part!" Scotty protested), Sweet Cream too bland, ("It tastes just fine to me," Pavel said, shrugging), and Bubble Gum Blast far too sweet ("Nothin' like a sugar rush," Gaila answered, grinning.)
"Your father expressed the same taste when he took the tour," Bob told him.
Spock's eyebrows went up in surprise. "My father took a tour here?"
Bob nodded.
"And he consumed ice cream?"
Bob nodded again.
Spock fell silent, contemplating this.
There was a short silence, and then Len, a few seats down, smirked and announced, "Fascinating."
Finally, after Spock had pointed out the faults of almost everyone's ice cream, Nyota stepped forward to him with her milkshake.
"Here," she said, handing it over to him, "try this one."
Spock looked at the blended ice cream inside. It was a medium shade of brown, seemingly without chunks of anything else in it, like some of the other flavors.
Spock took the glass from Nyota, lifted it to his lips, and took a sip.
All eyes were on him as he did so, watching, waiting.
Spock blinked.
It was perfect.
It was sweet, but bitter at the same time, and cold, but not so cold that he couldn't taste the flavor. But more than that, the taste was…intelligent. Sophisticated.
Silence reigned at the bar as everyone watched Spock swallow and hand the glass back to Nyota.
"I…" he began, "It is…illogically delicious."
Slowly, grinning, Jim started to clap, and the bar burst into applause. Scotty whopped. Gaila gave a shrill whistle. Len muttered, "Finally," rolling his eyes, but smirking just the same.
Spock, in the middle of it all, went faintly green and looked at Nyota.
She was smiling.
Finally, Jim thought, twenty minutes later as he stepped outside into the sun, the taste of his rocky road milkshake sticking inside his mouth.
He waited as the others followed, leaving the commissary in twos and threes, stepping forward and waiting for Jim to speak.
When Christine, the last one out, exited, thanking Bob and smiling, Jim spoke.
"Right," he began, "We'll go in two groups. Len, Gaila, Pavel, you're with me. Spock, take Nyota, Scotty and Hikaru. Janice, Christine, you guys'll each navigate for a group, seeing as how you know your way around here the best."
"I'll go in Len's group!" Christine volunteered, brightly.
Len's eyes opened wide and he sent a pleading look at Jim.
Jim, suppressing a laugh, nodded in agreement. "Done. Christine, you're with us. Janice, you're with them. We'll meet back at the shuttle area in half an hour."
As the kids split apart into two groups and started moving in separate directions, Len sent Jim an I will get you for this look.
Jim responded with an innocent shrug and a smile. "Christine," he called.
Christine turned around. "Yes?" she asked.
Jim smiled. "Lead on."
Immediately following Jim's order to "lead on", Christine went into full tour-guide mode, walking her group through each building of the shipyard, and giving them every possible detail on the building in record-breaking time, a permanent, sunny smile on her face.
As she led them down the dusty road away from the commissary, Len fell into step beside Jim at the back of the group.
"You're evil, you know that?" he asked, "Pure evil."
Jim grinned. "Well, she's not talking to you now, is she?" he answered, quietly, "…Leonard."
Len rolled his eyes. "Jimmy."
In Janice's group, things were slightly less like a tour and slightly more like an expedition, where Scotty and Hikaru would eagerly point out buildings to explore and Janice would tell them the name of the building in question. Then the group would go inside, looking around for interesting things, and then leave, heading for the next building.
Spock and Nyota walked at the back of the group.
"What flavor of ice cream was that?" Spock asked her, "I do not believe anyone has told me its name."
"Coffee," Nyota answered, smiling.
Spock nodded. "It is very…delicious," he said, "Illogically so, but I find that does not detract from its deliciousness."
"Yeah," Nyota agreed, "a lot of people I know don't like it because it's supposed to be a grown-up thing, but I think it's great. I love how it's bitter and sweet at the same time." She paused for a moment, and then giggled to herself.
"What is it?" Spock asked.
"Nothing, it's nothing," Nyota answered, slightly embarrassed, "You'll laugh at me."
Spock looked at her intently. "I could never laugh at you," he told her.
Nyota met Spock's eyes, saw the seriousness in his expression. She hesitated a moment, and then nodded. "Well," she began, "…I've always thought that coffee ice cream tastes kind of…well…it can't really taste like this, but I think it tastes kind of…"
"Intelligent," Spock finished.
Nyota looked back over at him, her eyes wide and surprised.
"Exactly," she told him, "How did you know?"
Spock met her eyes. "I…do not know."
Half an hour later: The shuttle yard.
As the sun began to head toward the horizon, Jim and his group stood outside the shuttle yard, waiting for Janice's group to show up, having found nothing whatsoever out of the ordinary.
Christine, having ceased her tour of the shipyard, had started talking to Len again, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, her pigtails swaying back and forth with the rhythm. Len was standing against a tall, metal light pole, avoiding Christine's eyes, looking immensely uncomfortable. He kept shooting pleading looks over at Jim, who didn't notice, as Gaila was explaining to him and Pavel the game Hunted.
"So it's cross country, through the jungle, being tracked by three or four other people, who can lay traps," Jim repeated, his mouth agape.
Gaila nodded. "Yep. 'Bout twenty miles a day. Between my place and Grandma's house."
"Cool!" Jim said, impressed. "You'll have to show me sometime."
Gaila smiled coyly. "Maybe." She glanced over to Len and Christine, and Len shot her and Jim a save me look.
Jim looked between Len and Gaila and shrugged, as if to say, We've tortured him enough.
Gaila rolled her eyes and headed over to Christine, taking her by the arm and gently pulling her away from Len, who gratefully hurried over to Jim.
"Thanks," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders.
"Tired of discussing ponies and wedding dresses?" Jim asked, grinning.
"And dolls. Don't forget dolls."
"Oh, but dolls are so interesting!" Jim put on a silly adoring smile and clasped his hands.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Len cast a wary look back at Christine, who was now talking excitedly to Gaila. "This all better be worth it, Jim."
"Well, you got ice cream, didn't you?" Jim asked.
"I mean you. Worth it for you," Len replied.
"What do you mean, worth it for me?"
Len gave him a dark look. "I mean what's gonna happen when you get home."
Jim's grin faded. "Oh. That," he said. He shrugged. "I'm hoping he'll be too drunk to notice. Or passed out."
A pause.
"And if he's not?" Len asked.
Jim shrugged. "I'll deal with it." He looked up. "Spock's group's here.
Sure enough, approaching them from across the parking lot were Spock, Nyota, Janice, Hikaru and Scotty, Janice leading, Hikaru and Scotty chasing and poking one another, and Spock and Nyota deep in conversation.
"Find anything?" Jim asked.
Janice shook her head.
"Nothing," she said.
Jim turned to face the shuttle yard, took a deep breath. "Well," he began, "Let's hope there's something in here."
He turned and started down the path between the shuttles.
The shuttles were arranged in rows, divided down the center by a wide dirt path that stretched on until it reached the overgrown, abandoned airstrip.
As the kids walked along the path, a slight breeze picked up. Walking at the back of the group Nyota shivered, glancing to the west, where the sun had just dipped out of sight.
Stupid, she thought, Why didn't you bring a jacket?
Spock, walking beside her, looked over, concern on his face. "You are cold," he said.
Nyota was snapped back to reality. "Huh?" she asked.
Spock cocked an eyebrow. "You are shivering."
"Oh." Nyota rubbed her bare arms. "A little."
Spock immediately took off his jacket and held it out to Nyota.
"Oh, no, it's okay, really," Nyota protested. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Gaila watching the scene unfold, smirking.
"An extra layer of clothing will retain a greater amount of your body heat, and you will feel less cold," Spock told her, "It is logical."
"Well, what about you?" Nyota asked.
"The place where I lived on Vulcan is a desert and the temperature drops below freezing each night. I am accustomed to the cold," Spock answered.
Nyota, not knowing what else to say, took the jacket and put it on. "Thank you," she said.
Spock glanced ahead. "You are welcome."
Although the light was fading, Nyota could easily see the pale green blush on Spock's face.
The kids spent the next twenty minutes wandering up and down the rows of shuttles, searching and finding nothing as all around, the light continued to dim.
They emerged from one of the rows out onto the main path, Jim leading them.
He glanced left, and his heart started to sink as he saw that they had almost reached the end of the shuttle area and the beginning of the abandoned airstrip. There were only a few rows left.
Len appeared beside him. "Jim…" he began, hesitantly, "…maybe there isn't anything here."
Jim shook his head. "There's something. There has to be. I know it."
"Jim, listen." Len stepped in front of him. "Crash at my house tonight. Let your stepdad cool his heels a little. Wait 'till it all blows over."
Jim shook his head. "I stole his car, Len. It's not gonna blow over." Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gaila, Scotty and Hikaru pass them and disappeared down the next row of shuttles. "He's not gonna forget."
"Why does this sound to me like your stupid pride tryin' to get you killed again?" Len demanded. "For cryin' out loud, Jim, alls it takes is one broken beer bottle—"
"Len—" Jim tried to cut him off, glancing warily around at the others who he knew were listening.
"—and he could kill you," Len finished in a low whisper.
Jim was silent.
Then, from one row forward, came Gaila's shout.
"Guys! You gotta see this!"
Jim immediately dashed around Len and into the next row of shuttles where Gaila, Scotty and Hikaru were standing, open-mouthed, in front of a lone shuttle covered in yellow caution tape…
…with an enormous hole in its side.
Jim stared at the hole, wide-eyed, his mind racing, all thoughts of his stepfather gone from his mind.
The others ran up behind him.
"What is that?" Pavel whispered.
"It's the size of a watermelon," Scotty gaped.
"It's like somebody shot a cannon at it," Gaila said.
"What the heck happened?" Len demanded.
Jim turned, his eyes serious. "Romulans happened," he replied.
There was silence as Jim stared at his friends, and his friends stared back.
Then Pavel, standing at the end of the group, gasped. "What ees that?"
"Pavel, it's a hole in the shuttle," Len answered, shortly.
"Not that! That!" Pavel pointed upward, his hazel eyes bigger than anyone had ever seen them.
Jim whirled around and looked where Pavel was pointing, just in time to see a gray, metal orb the size of a beach ball hovering into sight from behind the shuttle.
Jim froze. A probe, he thought.
The probe, humming like a bee as it hung in the air, rotated around to reveal on its other side a round, red sensor—like the iris of a giant eyeball.
It made a noise like a clicking camera shutter, rose a few more inches, and then shot off over the kids' heads to the east.
Jim instantly snapped out of his spell, turned and ran after it, followed closely by Spock and Nyota, then Gaila and Len, and then Pavel, Hikaru, Scotty, Christine and Janice.
The probe sped east over the rows of shuttles, toward the stone wall at the edge of the shipyard.
The gate, Jim thought, immediately.
He darted left toward the abandoned airstrip, turning sharply to the right when he reached it. He glanced back toward the probe, which had just turned toward the southeast, away from him.
We won't make it on foot.
Sure enough, dead ahead there lay the enormous metal gate, and beside it a small control booth with a sleeping guard inside.
Jim leapt up and ran through the control booth, hitting as he passed a large, green button.
With an enormous groan, the gate began to slide open.
The sleeping guard jerked awake and jumped to his feet as ten elementary school children sprinted past the booth and out the gate.
Flustered, he shouted something about this being a restricted area, but they were long gone before he finished.
Len ran past the gate after Spock and Nyota just in time to see Jim suddenly turn in the opposite direction, sprinting away down the dirt road.
"What are you doing?" Len demanded, but Jim gave no answer.
Len kept running after the probe behind Spock and Nyota who were neck and neck, equally matched for speed.
We can't keep up with it, he thought, as his breath grew ragged, we're gonna lose it. How—
Len's thoughts were immediately cut off as a streak of bright red flew past after the probe, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake: Jim driving the convertible.
Len jogged to a stop next to Spock and Nyota, both of whom were breathing hard, watching as the convertible swerved sharply to the left down a dirt road adjacent to the shipyard.
"I sure hope…he doesn't…scratch it…" Len gasped.
Spock stared after the antique, and then glanced at Len. "The odds are not in his favor," he said, simply.
Jim cranked the wheel in the convertible as he made a hairpin left turn down the next dirt road, following the probe as fast as the car could go. The speedometer had climbed into the eighties…the nineties…over a hundred miles per hour.
He flipped on the high beams, shining a spotlight on the probe ahead of him.
You're not getting away! he thought determined, You're not, you're not, you're not—
Jim's mantra was interrupted as a siren sounded from behind.
He glanced in the rearview window and caught sight of an MP squad car behind him, lights flashing, siren wailing.
His heart skipped a beat, but he focused back on the probe.
I can't let it get away, he thought, and floored the gas pedal.
The probe jerked sharply to the right over a large expanse of flat dirt, and Jim followed, busting through the wooden fence and racing after it. The squad car followed as well.
Suddenly the car phone rang, and instinctively Jim hit the answer button. His stepfather's voice rang out, yelling and furious:
"Hey, are you outta your mind? That car's an antique! You think you can get away with this just because your mom's off planet? You live in my house, buddy, and that's my car! You get one scratch on that car, and I'm gonna whip your a—"
Jim switched off the phone and focused again on the probe as the squad car siren continued to wail.
He then glanced at the road ahead…
…and realized that it was about to end.
Instinct took over.
Jim unbuckled his seatbelt, cranked the steering wheel to the left, and launched himself out of the car, just as it hit the edge of the cliff and went over.
Jim hit the ground on his stomach and skidded toward the cliff, clawing desperately at the dirt.
He almost let out a scream of terror as his legs went over the edge, but a rush of adrenaline focused his energy on scrambling back up onto solid ground and rolling away to safety.
He lay there in the dirt for a moment, gasping and shaking, until the sounds of the siren and the squad car pulling up drew him back to reality.
He stood, taking a deep breath, facing the car as the MP, a stout, middle-aged woman in a red Starfleet uniform got out.
"What's your name, kid?" she asked.
Jim glanced back over his shoulder. The probe was nowhere to be seen.
"Kid. Your name," the MP repeated. "Don't make this difficult."
Jim looked back at her, looked her in the eye, and answered: "My name is James Tiberius Kirk!"
Commander Pike stood in the dining hall, a cup of coffee in hand, staring shocked at the nine children sitting on the bench in front of him, trying to explain to him what had happened—all at once.
"Quiet!" shouted the officer who'd brought them in, and the kids quieted down. The officer, Raymond Sterling, turned to Commander Pike and spoke: "I caught them running through the shuttle yard, Sir. They went out the back gate and ran down the southern road before I caught up with them. That's a restricted area, Sir, and they shouldn't've been back there."
"Nobody told us that!" piped up one of the boys, a skinny redhead with a Scottish accent.
"Yeah, and besides, he was asleep at his post!" added a girl with green skin and bright red hair, shooting a glare at Sterling.
"Quiet, you," Sterling snapped, reddening.
"Mr. Sterling, let them speak," Pike told Sterling, sternly, "I'd like to hear their side of the story."
All of the kids started to speak at once, and Pike spoke up again: "One at a time, please! Now how did you get in here?"
One of the kids, a petite girl with white-blonde hair spoke up: "My mom is Doctor Chapel," she said, "She sometimes brings me and my friends here."
"You're Christine?" Pike asked.
The girl nodded.
"Mr. Sterling, would you please go get Doctor Chapel?" asked Pike.
"Sir, are you sure you want—" Sterling began, but Pike cut him off.
"Mr. Sterling, go get Doctor Chapel," Pike repeated, giving Sterling a significant look. "We'll have words later."
Sterling reddened again and saluted Pike, then turned and left.
Pike regarded the group of kids. "What were you doing wandering around the shuttles?" he asked them.
"We were looking for—" the petite girl began, but a tall, dark-haired boy interrupted her.
"Exploring," he answered.
Pike looked between the petite girl and the dark-haired boy, who were avoiding one another's eyes.
"Looking for what?" Pike asked.
Before any of them could answer, however, an irritated voice sounded at the end of the cafeteria:
"Pike!"
Pike let out a resigned sigh. Kaddington.
"Yes, Luce?" he asked, turning around to face the Sheriff, who was glaring at him, her long dark hair pulled into a long, but loose and tangled braid.
"What the hell is this?" Kaddington hissed at him, gesturing wildly at the row of kids. "I need your help setting up security detail for tomorrow and—"
"Watch your language, Luce," Pike warned her in a low voice, casting a quick glance at the kids, "Present company."
Kaddington looked quickly at the children, all of whom were watching her and Pike intently, and then pulled Pike aside.
"We can't deal with this right now, Pike, it's too much!" Kaddington whispered, looking ready to rip out a handful of her dark hair. "What the hell happened?"
"Sterling caught them wandering around the shuttle yard, Luce, I'm handling it," Pike answered, calmly.
Kaddington gaped at him, her eyes growing wide. "Shit," she said.
"Language," Pike reminded her, through gritted teeth.
"Um… 'scuse me, Sir?" spoke up the petite blonde girl again, raising her hand.
Pike turned around. "Yes?"
"Are we in trouble?" the girl asked, her lower lip quivering and her enormous blue eyes worried.
Before Pike could reply, another voice sounded, this time from the cafeteria entrance.
"This one is."
Pike turned to the entrance.
Standing the doorway was none other than Jim Kirk, straining against the grip of one of the MP officers, the boy's ice blue eyes staring right at him.
Two minutes earlier.
Think, dangit, think! Jim's mind raced as the MP led him across the parking lot, her hand closed tightly around his upper arm, How do I get out of this? I can't explain it to her—she'd never believe me. I gotta find the guys… His eyes widened as another idea came to him. A better idea. …I gotta find Commander Pike.
He turned to the MP and said, quickly, "I need to speak to Commander Pike! Can you take me to him?"
The MP looked down at him and smirked. "You're not exactly in a position to be making demands, kid," she replied.
"It's important!" Jim protested, trying to walk more slowly to slow her down.
"Commander Pike is currently very busy, and he probably doesn't want to be bothered. If you really want to see him, you can send him a message in a few days."
"But I have to talk to him now!"
The MP gave him a look, but before she could respond, a voice called out from nearby:
"Sal!"
Jim and the MP turned to see an officer approaching them from a building to the left—the cafeteria, Jim read off the sign above the doorway.
"What's going on, Ray?" the MP asked, amiably.
The officer frowned at Jim. "Was this guy wandering around the shuttle yard?"
The MP shook her head. "No. Why?"
"Well, I found a bunch of other kids wandering around there. Friends of Chapel's daughter. They're in there. Not enough room in the cell."
In the cell? Jim thought, apprehensively.
The officer jerked his thumb back at the cafeteria. "Listen, I gotta go. You might wanna take him in, Sal, see if the other kids know him."
"Hm," the MP said, "…thanks."
She started for the cafeteria door, Jim in tow.
As they drew near to the door, Jim heard Christine's unmistakable voice from the front of the long room:
"Are we in trouble?"
Jim and the MP entered the cafeteria. "This one is," the MP said.
Jim looked to the front of the room, and his eyes went wide. Standing there, at the front of the room, looking right at him, was none other than Christopher Pike.
Pike stared at Kirk, speechless.
"Raymond Sterling pointed me in here," the MP told Pike, heading for the front of the room. "Told me there were some other kids in here who were at the shuttle yard. This guy was out by the quarry."
"What'd he do?" Kaddington asked, flatly.
"He drove a classic red convertible into the quarry."
Pike's eyebrows went up in disbelief.
Kaddington threw her arms up in frustration. "Christ, Pike, we don't have time for this!" she burst out.
Pike ignored her and walked over to Kirk, stopping in front of him. "Officer, let him go," he said, softly.
The MP nodded once and stepped back, letting go of Kirk's arm.
At the front of the room, Kaddington crossed her arms and pursed her lips, glaring at Pike.
Pike looked intently at Kirk, and asked: "Why did you drive the car into the quarry?"
The boy looked up at Pike, his ice blue eyes defiant, and answered, "Because I saw a probe."
Jim paused, waiting for Commander Pike's reaction. When Pike didn't respond, he continued.
Jim told Pike everything, explaining about the monster in the woods, about sneaking into the Russian Embassy, about the Romulan in the cornfield on Halloween, and about the probe in the shuttle yard.
For the most part, Pike didn't interrupt, except to shush the Sheriff, who every minute or so made some noise of skepticism, and tapped her foot impatiently on foot.
"And that's it," Jim finished, "the probe led me toward the quarry, and there wasn't time to stop, so I jumped."
"What makes you think what you saw was a probe?" Pike asked.
"Well," Jim answered, "I've seen pictures of Starfleet probes. And this one looked a lot like one of those, you know, with the red sensor except it was round, and it hovered."
Pike nodded, and bent down to look Jim in the eye.
"Okay," he began, "Listen. Here's what I'm going to do."
Jim's eyes widened. A plan, finally! he thought, his heart leaping.
"We're gonna call your friends' and your parents, and we're gonna make sure that you guys get home safe," Pike said. "And I want you to keep out of restricted areas from now on, all right?"
Jim's heart sunk.
His face fell as Pike got up and started to walk away.
"Commander, wait!" he shouted, starting after him, but the MP stepped forward and grabbed his arm again. He strained against her grip, yelling after Pike: "You gotta believe me! They're here, and they're gonna sabotage the negotiations! You can't just do nothing!"
Pike whispered something to the Sheriff on his way out of the cafeteria.
"You have to do something!" Jim yelled, but Pike was out the door.
The Sheriff stepped forward, glaring at Jim, her dark hair askew about her face.
"Pipe down, kid," she growled, "You've wasted enough of our time as it is. Now what is your phone number?"
"Go to hell," Jim spat. "I'm the least of your problems."
She bent forward, so that her face was barely an inch from his.
"I can make things very difficult for you," she said, sharply, "Remember you were driving a vehicle without a license, not to mention property damage of that same vehicle, and trespassing on state grounds. Now I'm going to call your friends' parents, and ask them to come pick them up. When I'm done, I'll want your phone number. Think about it."
She straightened up and left the room, and the MP took Jim and sat him down on one of the cafeteria benches.
Jim stared at the floor, speechless.
They didn't believe me, he thought, numbly …And it was all going so well…
Faced with potential trespassing charges, the kids surrendered their phone numbers to the MP, the Sheriff's deputy and two other officers, who called their parents to come and pick them up. As promised, when one of the officers had finished with the kids, he went to Jim and asked for his phone number.
Jim, furious but not wanting to face charges, gave it.
I'm gonna get beaten up anyways, he thought, better just that than that and the law behind it.
When Jim's stepfather didn't answer, the officer who'd called shot him a look.
Jim replied, coolly, "He's a really deep sleeper."
The officer merely nodded. "We'll have to give you a ride home."
"Too much of a troublemaker to deal with here, huh?" Jim asked him.
The officer didn't reply.
At eight o' clock, the parents showed up.
All of them were, to a degree, angry. Doctor Chapel and Yeoman Rand were shocked and mortified to find that their daughters had agreed to lead their friends through the restricted areas of the shipyard. Gaila's and Nyota's parents were furious that the two girls had agreed to go with Christine and Janice to said areas. The boys' parents were angry that they had lied about where they were going for the night.
All of the kids wore the same flush of shame as they were lectured by their parents…but none more so than Spock.
When his mother entered the cafeteria, she walked straight over to one of the officers and explained how sorry she was that this had happened and that Spock was never going to do it again—she'd be sure of it.
The officer she spoke to, a young man with blond hair and freckles, frowned when she pointed Spock out as her son.
"His father isn't here?" he asked her.
Spock's mother shook her head. "He's preparing for an important meeting tomorrow. I'm sorry he couldn't come."
The officer looked between her and Spock, still confused. "Ma'am, are you Vulcan?" he questioned.
Spock's mother's lips tightened and she regarded the officer coolly, but her voice was as civil as ever: "No. Spock is half Vulcan. I am human."
The officer glanced at Spock, who nodded solemnly.
The officer then looked back at Spock's mother. "Okay," he said, simply.
Spock's mother pursed her lips and walked over to her son, who stood.
"Mother," he began, but she cut him off.
"Spock," she began in a low serious voice, "Listen to me. I am not in any mood to listen to excuses. We are going home, and you are going straight to bed. We will discuss this with your father tomorrow." She took her son by the wrist and started to lead him from the room.
"But Mother, I—"
"No, Spock," she told him, quietly, "Listen to me. Your father has to be up at five a.m. tomorrow to get to the embassy at six. We are going home, now."
Spock froze in mid-step. "A meeting? At the embassy?" he asked.
A few feet away, standing in front of her angry parents, Nyota looked up and over at Spock, whose eyes were wide.
Jim, from his seat on the cafeteria bench, had heard as well.
"Spock, we don't have time for this, now come on," Spock's mother told him, and led him from the room.
As he was pulled through the cafeteria entrance, Spock looked back at Jim, catching his eye.
Neither boy had to say anything to know what the other meant.
After Spock left, the other parents began to take their kids home.
As Len was led out the door by his grandmother ("No more cookies for you, young man!"), he sent a panicked look back at Jim.
Jim had no time to give a confident, reassuring look in response, before Len disappeared from view.
He recalled their conversation before the shuttle yard. It felt like it had happened an eternity ago.
Well, I'm hoping he'll be too drunk to notice. Or passed out.
And if he's not?
…I'll deal with it.
The MP from earlier came up behind Jim and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Come on, kid. Time to go," she said.
Jim took a deep breath and stood, allowing the MP to take his arm again, and following her back to her squad car, leaving behind a cold, silent cafeteria.
Fifteen minutes later: The house at the end of Derby Drive.
Jim glanced out of the window of the squad car to the old, crumbling farm house. His heart sunk as he caught sight of the TV lights, flickering in the grimy window.
The MP opened his door and let him out, taking him by the arm and leading him past the broken gate and up to the scratched, peeling door.
She knocked twice.
The sounds of the TV stopped.
There were footsteps in the hallway, and the sound of a turning lock, and then the door swung open, revealing Frank, his cold, grey eyes bloodshot and a tissue held in front of his mouth and nose.
"Officer," he said, pinching the tissue and giving a hearty blow. "Sorry. Gotta cold."
The MP nodded once, and explained succinctly and factually what Jim had done, and that he had gotten off lucky this time but such behavior was not to be tolerated in the future.
Frank, throughout the MP's explanation, nodded, listened, and kept an expression of seriousness on his face, and his mouth shut.
When she finished, Frank started to cough, and put his tissue up to his mouth.
"Thanks, Officer," he managed to get out, and he took Jim by the arm and pulled him inside, "Won't happen again."
And as the MP turned and started back toward the squad car, Frank swung the door shut and locked it, his hand resting on the lock.
He stood between Jim and the rest of the hallway, waiting as he heard the squad car start up, and drive away.
As soon as all was once more silent, Frank lowered the tissue from his mouth and put it into his pocket. It was perfectly clean.
"…So," he hissed at Jim, and Jim nearly recoiled as he smelled the alcohol on his stepfather's breath.
He glanced to his right, to see that the hand resting on the lock was quivering with rage.
Jim met Frank's wild, bloodshot eyes, and realized that his stepfather was completely and totally out of his mind drunk.
"…So."
Frank's hands shot forward and grabbed Jim by the collar, picking him up and launching him into the hallway.
Jim flew a good five feet before crashing hard to the floor. Pain exploded up his arm and he saw, hidden in the adjacent hallway, several empty beer bottles and a half-empty bottle of whiskey.
Jim started to scramble backward.
Frank lunged forward and grabbed Jim by the ankle, yanking him back and then pulling him roughly to his feet, slamming him against the wall.
"Ya like that?" Frank demanded, as Jim felt a dull burst of pain shake his skull. "Huh? This is what ya get when you destroy other people's property!"
He threw Jim to the floor again, and Jim felt his head crack against the hardwood.
Dizzily, his heart racing, he tried to scramble backwards again. His hand slipped on something sharp and he heard the sound of breaking glass. He could barely see—the room was spinning out of control.
Then Frank's fist swung out of nowhere and slammed into Jim's eye.
Instinctively, Jim kicked out, hard. He heard the sickening crunch of Frank's nose breaking, and then a bellow of pain.
Jim pushed himself to his feet and ran into the kitchen, just before something hard and heavy crashed against his back.
Jim slipped on the linoleum floor and landed on his side, and the air rushed out of his lungs.
He could see Frank getting to his feet in the kitchen doorway, picking up one of the beer bottles.
"Come here you little bastard!" he roared, staggering wildly into the kitchen and hurling the bottle at Jim.
Jim dodged and heard the bottle shatter behind him as he stumbled into the living room, tripping backward over the coffee table and landing against the couch—cornered.
He heard Frank's heavy footsteps and the crunch of broken glass as his stepfather lumbered out of the kitchen and toward Jim, blood pouring down his face from his shattered nose, the whiskey bottle clutched in his hand. He took a swig from the bottle and staggered forward a step, his eyes wild.
Jim's heart pounded harder than ever. There was nowhere to run—nowhere to go.
Frank raised the bottle above his head. Jim braced himself.
Suddenly Frank stopped. He stared at Jim, his eyes bulging, swaying slightly.
Then his eyes rolled up inside his head, and he fell backwards and out of sight.
There was a heavy thud, the clink of glass on hardwood, and then silence.
Shaking, Jim slowly got to his feet and began to step forward, around the coffee table and past the leather lazy boy chair, to see Frank lying on his back, his eyes shut, out cold.
Hardly daring to breathe, Jim edged past his unconscious stepfather and into the hallway, slowly and quietly moving toward the door.
His hand brushed the lock, and he turned it.
Then, quick as lightning, he turned the doorknob, flung open the door, and ran without looking back.
Len's house, upstairs, Len's room.
Len wanted to scream.
His grandparents had gone to bed, having given him a brief lecture on his safety and how important it was for them to be able to trust him. He could hear them snoring in the master bedroom down the hall.
He was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, trying to think, praying that Jim's stepfather was too drunk to move…but in the meantime, what was Len supposed to do?
He resisted the urge to throw something across the wall in frustration.
Dangit, he thought, furiously. He dropped his hands to his sides.
There was nothing else for it. He would have to go to Jim's house and get him out himself.
He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and put it on, then took his sneakers and started to lace them up. He rummaged around in his desk drawers until he found his flashlight and tucked it into one of his belt loops. Lastly, he grabbed the first aid kit hanging by his bed and looped the strap over his shoulder.
Then he started for the door.
His hand was on the doorknob when he heard a soft chink—the sound of a pebble hitting glass.
Slowly he turned to face the window across the room.
Chink.
Another pebble bounced off the window.
Len's heart nearly dropped into his stomach. Jim.
In a flash he crossed the room, threw open the window and looked down to see Jim standing on the front lawn, waving up at him.
Even in the dim light, Len could see that Jim was having difficulty moving his arm, and that someone—three guesses who—had given him a black eye.
Len gave Jim a silent nod and pulled his head back into the room, turning and heading downstairs as quietly as possible.
He crossed the living room and opened the front door to see Jim standing on his doorstep, beaten bloody, breathing hard.
"Len," Jim gasped, sounding as if he had just run all the way there.
"That jerk," Len hissed, taking Jim by the arm and pulling him inside. "That jerk! He should go jump off the Empire State Building, and then rot in hell for all etern—"
"Len!" Jim grabbed Len by the shoulder, wide-eyed, "We have to start the beacons."
"What? Jim, you just got beaten senseless—" Len began, but Jim cut him off.
"Len, listen," Jim said, looking Len in the eye, "It's the negotiations. They're tomorrow."