The Enemy Within

by whatshouldntbe

Six months into her captaincy, Jim Kirk experiences the hardships of being a twenty-something woman in command. girl!Kirk/Spock -Sequel-

11. Chapter 12

Chapter 2

Piiiiing. Piiiiing. Piiiiing.

"Warning. Warning. All system's shutting down."

Piiiiing. Piiiiing. Piiiiing.

"Imminent system and engine failure commencing in three minutes. Emergency power miscarried. All power forwarded to shields in gridlock."

Six Days Earlier

Two weeks.

Two weeks and Jim is still unused to being a guy.

He finds that he is constantly in a downtrodden mood. He's always hungry, and tetchy. He's becoming less and less social, and while it aids him in his little bet with Spock over his lacking disciplinary methods, it doesn't bode so well for his junior crew. Mostly because Jim is now unhesitant and unrepentant when it comes to correcting their errors, much to their anguish. In fact, you could almost say that Jim's chastisement is beginning to border on totalitarian—which, again, does nothing good for morale. As if Jim wasn't already at odds with the ship's company before. Bones says that his fluctuating mood swings are because he isn't used to dealing with male hormones and everything that comes with the territory. And the only upside to this whole craziness is that Spock seems to be able to tolerate him all the more nowadays sense his gender switch. There's a tiny, still female part in Jim that feels like he should be affronted his First Officer's altered behavior. But he won't because he feels like that would be petty and he could be misreading things. His logic these days is unnecessarily tainted by all the testosterone.

There's not much word from Starfleet during those two weeks. It's not at all surprising, seeing as how the Federation Supreme Court had been attacked by unknown friendlies. That tension is far reaching, and Jim can definitely feel it on his own ship. Everyone is worried and confused, and the news reports aren't making things better because all they're doing is making wild speculations about the attacks and the possibility of future attacks. Jim's been doing some research himself in his own time. His conclusions are resting on an unsavory alliance that's seemed to develop between the Romulans and the Klingons. Its good for them in numbers, and bad for Starfleet in so many ways.

Jim has a sneaking suspicion that the Romulans and the Klingons are banding together to recruit more enemies in a campaign against the Federation. But for what purpose exactly? It's nothing obvious, that's for sure. If it was, Jim would have been on top of that a long time ago. But there's no way he can confront any of the admirals about it because they're all busy trying to clear this mess up and do damage control. Admiral Barnett has been rooted out as the public spokesmen for both Starfleet and the Federation, and he's virtually unreachable because of it.

So that's just it then.

Jim and her crew have been sailing leisurely in a deadlock through the stars with no direct coordinates and no official mission directives. Jim's not the only one feeling antsy about it. The tension on the Enterprise is so thick that it's hardly inescapable. The only one who seems to be at ease is Mitchell—much to Jim's displeasure. He's all smug smiles and cocky grins and carefree struts. There's a gleam in his green eyes that says he knows a lot about what's going on. It's making Jim sick and very nearly ready to pounce him to beat the ever-living crap out of him.

"We need shore leave," Bones comments casually one day as Jim sits down obediently for his daily checkup. He's waving his medical wand around Jim's aching head.

"Bones—" Jim starts with a sigh.

"Don't even," Bones interjects quickly, taking a moment to pause from studying his readings to look Jim in the eye sternly. "Every day you're in here and I read nothing but stress-ridden levels on your charts. You're on the verge of a meltdown and you need to get out of this tin can for a while. Hell, we all could use a little fresh air. You're not the only one down here asking for sleep aids and headache relievers. The whole goddamn ship is wound tight and I don't know how much longer I can keep going myself."

"But—"

"Look I know you want to keep and eye on things, especially since you lost someone. But Jim that was two weeks ago and nothing, besides the fact that you've developed a penis, has happened," Bones continues, ignoring Jim's exasperated expression. "And you sure aren't helping the morale by loomin' over everyone's shoulder, sucker punching all the juniors with demerits because of this and that—and just what the hell has gotten into you suddenly? I've never seen you chastise a lower rank so much in my entire time of knowin' you!"

"Spock said—"

"Oh, of course. Spock said. Spock said—so naturally we must all fall in line," Bones grumbles darkly as he stabs Jim in the neck with a pain reliever.

Jim jumps with a startled yelp. "You fucker!"

"Quit whining. You're headache's gone ain't it?" Bones quips with an evil smile. He turns serious again. "We've been roamin' around for a good four months now—we're reaching the middle of May in two days. I think we're due for a break anyhow. As your doctor and your friend—I advise you to let up on everyone and take them somewhere they can relax and call home to their friends and families while not lookin' like their testosterone-ridden Captain isn't running them through the floors."

Jim's mouth sags into a grim curve. He wants to punch Bones in the throat because he knows that everything his CMO has said is true. "I'll talk to Spock," he mutters reluctantly.

Bones smiles a true smile this time as he claps Jim over the shoulder. "Good. You do that, Jimmy. And I even have a place in mind," he admits. "But first, let me see your foot. You put the cream on there like I told you?"

Jim gives a moody shrug.

Bones rolls his eyes. "You know no one will be happier than I when you shift back. Jesus, you're even more stubborn than usual—"

"Just shut up and do the thing so I can go."

Bones chuckles darkly but he does the thing.

Jim actually hates when Bones does the thing because there is another painful hypo involved.

888

"I agree with the Doctor," Spock says when Jim broaches the subject after they discuss the physical state of the ship in Spock's room while the kids poke and prod at his blossomed plant. Jim takes a moment to wonder why Spock hasn't even noticed it yet. "I have, as well, deciphered the meticulous temper patterns of the ship's company and their response to recent events. They are below the average of what one could consider acceptable resulting in a sixty-two percent drop in efficiency."

Jim frowns and says, "You keep averages on our emotions?"

"It is necessary," Spock responds in kind as though it is just another normal function of his job.

"Yeah, sure," Jim says with a skeptical tone. "For a robot maybe, but Spock—come on, we know you're not a robot."

"There are many that would disagree," Spock states simply as his dark eyes pin Jim to his chair. "Doctor McCoy would be among them—as well as Uhura it seems."

"You guys still not getting along?" Jim questions with genuine sympathy. He had noticed the way in which Uhura would surpass them in the corridors as if they happened to cross paths with her. She had a very sour thundercloud hanging over her head that hadn't improved at all since her shift switch. "You know, you're going to have to do something about that soon. Make amends, I mean. She will be returning to her regular shifts in about a week's time. I, for one, would like things to remain pleasantly relaxed on my bridge."

"You believe that I was in the wrong?"

"I never said that. I just mean that—I don't know—for things to be good you have to be progressive. Communication is always progressive."

"I have said everything necessary concerning the matter," Spock says as he deftly avoids Jim's eyes. "Nyota has made it clear that she will confront me when she is ready."

"So what?" Jim says with a shrug. "She probably actually wants you to take control for once and like—I don't know—do that whole male dominance thing."

Spock lifts his eyebrow questioningly. "You are suggesting that a female of her caliber would respond to such behavior," he notes in that intellectually neutral tone of his.

Jim snorts and says, "Oh yeah—she'll eat it up. Sometimes a woman doesn't want to take control all the time. Sometimes she just wants the control taken from her. It shows a sign of trust on her part. You just be careful not to be a misogynistic asshole about it. Just like—pay attention to her needs and stuff."

"And stuff," Spock quotes verbatim with that bland tone of his as his brow furrows thoughtfully. "Captain, I must ask—is the advice you're giving based solely from personal experience?"

Jim's face goes up in flames and he glares murderously at Spock. "Don't make that kind of assumption, Commander."

Spock looks amusedly curious and it's annoys the hell out of Jim. "Captain, your flush indicates—"

"You shut you're filthy Vulcan mouth or I'll tell your dad something or another, I don't care, I'll make anything up!" Jim warns and quickly changes topics while Spock stays bemusedly silent. "I haven't contacted Smith's sister yet, but I plan on doing that. I might even question her about some things—see if she has anymore information that could help."

"That would be wise."

"Have you been able to get into contact with Admiral Barnett?"

"I have not."

Jim sighs and runs his hands through the soft tufts of his hair. "I'm really anxious to know what's going on. It's just a bunch of recycled propaganda on the news about forgiveness and intergalactic peace. I think we both know that this is far from what the Romulans and the Klingons want."

"Undeniably. But perhaps the talks of peace and forgiveness is, in itself, a defense mechanism," Spock proposes. "Should our enemies be monitoring our broadcasting systems in hope to view our reactions to their blatant attack, they would be deliberately fooled. It would give the Federation, as well as Starfleet, the advantage."

"Hit them with a war they wanted but didn't see coming," Jim says faintly with a strong stab of realization. "They're making preparations!"

"Indeed," Spock confirms. "When the time is right, the Federation will call all ships to arms and we will be given the commission to strike."

"Sneaky," Jim says with barely concealed awe. "Who thought that up, I wonder?"

"My father may have made such a suggestion, with the backing of my older counterpart, during the last meeting between the Federation and the remaining Vulcan council," Spock casually insinuates.

Both of Jim's eyebrows shoot up. "And you just now mentioning this to me? Wait—how did you find this out? Never mind. Dumb question." He sighs and shakes his head. "I'm so talking to Sarek about this."

"I believe he is expecting it," Spock remarks, unhelpfully.

"Bones suggests that we swing by Risa," Jim mentions, changing subjects abruptly again. "They've got a few seasonal festivities happening around this time of the year that he spoke praises of. Something called the 'Festival of the Moon'. He said our crew would really appreciate it. It'll be a good way to spend two days."

"I am familiar with the planet and it's attractions," Spock simply states. "It is a most fascinating culture and the Risians are peaceful. This meets all crucial requirements for shore leave."

"Well, glad you approve," Jim says, just shy of sarcastic. He's beginning to feel antsy again. It's been happening a lot lately ever since the gender switch. He has a hard time staying rooted to one spot. "Do me a favor and send the coordinates to the bridge. The sooner we get there, the faster our crew can let out a little sigh of relief for the time being. Oh and by the way—I win."

"Indeed, you have been most adamant in the measures of your discipline," Spock compliments vaguely and Jim finds it so strange because for some reason he expected some sort of debate. Spock's been like that lately for some reason—so, like, agreeable. Its kind of freaking Jim out.

It's like a bad omen.

"Right, um, well. Good." Jim frowns. "So, yeah, you can go ahead and send that notification ahead."

Spock inclines his head in acknowledgement and navigates his pale hands over his PADD.

Jim stands to join Jasel, Riesa and Leona. He pretends not to notice the way Spock watches the interaction with a mild show of curiosity and—something like considerate calculation. It's almost alarming these days how well Jim is able to read his stoic First Officer the more and more. Or maybe it isn't at all because at least he can recognize the fact that Spock is very much up to something. What that was, Jim wasn't sure. But it couldn't be anything too disturbing.

Right?

888

Three days after the announcement of a shore leave (much to everyone's pleasure apparently) they arrive at Risa on a Thursday morning. The whole ship's abuzz with excitement and positive energy. Jim's beginning to see what both Spock and Bones mean. Their attitudes are considerately different from before. This shore leave may turn out to be a good thing after all.

Jasel, Riesa and Leona are pretty excited. Jim took the time to show them through a virtual interface on his PADD what Risa had to offer. They wanted to go swimming and Jim was fine with that. He was pretty good on a surfboard too—well his female counterpart was—he's not sure if he could say the same now. So he replicates a pair of swimwear for the kids and dresses himself casually. He doesn't plan on swimming this time. He packs a beach bag with small buckets and shovels and sunscreen.

But interestingly enough, it doesn't seem to matter, because fifteen minutes before they even step out of Jim's doorway, Uhura appears with Spock, and their both dressed for the beach. She's in a lava orange dress that falls all the way down to her sandaled feet and white painted toe nails. She has on a matching hat that sits on top of her nicely curled hair. She has a large white beach bag over her right shoulder as her free hand holds a pair of brown sunglasses. Spock, who has clearly been dressed by Uhura, is sporting an all black getup (black swim trunks with a matching black t-shirt). To say that Jim is mildly confused and suspicious, is putting things lightly.

"Captain, if I may have a moment of your time?" Uhura asks, as polite as can be. She glances to Spock for, what looks like reassurance, before he gaze returns to him.

"Uh—sure," Jim says with barely concealed hesitation.

"Spock's going to stand in the hall with kids," Uhura ensures as she steps through the threshold and Jim steps back to let her in and the kids out.

Riesa and Leona excitedly engage Spock in a conversation about his ears once again (their favorite subject to discuss with the patient Vulcan) while Jasel just lingers with them and rolls his eyes as his sisters' behavior.

The door slides shut and Uhura and Jim are left alone.

Uhura clears her throat and straighten her spine. "Look I'm just going to get this out there because honesty is good," she starts. "What I said—how I acted was unacceptable and you had every right to punish me the way you did. I could have approached things a lot better than I did and the things I said to you were beyond disrespectful and I just want you to know that I am sorry for having said them. It was—very immature and I'm not looking to be petty or hold a grudge."

"It's okay," Jim says.

"No, Captain Kirk—it's really not," Uhura says—she looks a little ashamed and frustrated. "You're good, Kirk. So good. You embody good. And I don't have that level of toleration and forgiveness that you do. Which is why we're in this mess in the first place." She adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "I just—I don't really see how you can be so forgiving so quickly and all the time."

Jim smiles a little self-deprecatingly. "That's not exactly true," he mutters. "If it was I'd probably have a better relationship with my mother, and her drunken sloth of a brother. I probably would even still hold some sympathy to Nero—but I can't. I wont. So I'm not all that forgiving and tolerant. And I make my fair share of mistakes just like anyone else."

"Now see," Uhura starts. "That. That right there is understandable. What I did isn't even in that same area."

"I do understand why it happened the way it happened. If I was in your position—"

"Don't," Uhura warns softly. "Don't sympathize with me. I really don't deserve that. I just—I came here to assure you that any issues Spock and I have will be kept between us." She takes a moment to sigh. "I'm still not completely comfortable with the bond and everything, but I know that it's going to take time for anything to be right with that. But I am willing. And I know that I can't blame you for how it happened. Spock—older Spock," she corrects. "He and I discussed some things and he made me understand. I do understand. Really."

"I'm not trying to take him from you," Jim reassures and Uhura gives him a measured look that says she doesn't think that anymore. "I would like to be able to work with him, yes. And I would like for us to one day call each other friend. But I don't see that happening anytime soon. I've never wanted anything more than that."

Uhura watches him for a long moment before her eyes lower thoughtfully. "Captain—" she starts but then hesitates. She clears her throat and straightens her shoulders into something more confident and dignified. "Jim. I—and please don't tell Spock I said this. But if things don't end up working out between us then—I'm glad he'll have you."

"Stop that," Jim chastises gently. "This isn't a competition. This never had to be a competition between us. Nyota, I respect the hell out of you. You're beautiful and smart and phenomenal in more ways then I can name. Spock is the one that's lucky. Because despite everything that's happened between us, I still would like to have sex with you. Or do you not recall the night I tried to hit on you."

Uhura chokes on a shocked but flattered laugh. "You're trying to hit on me now!" she accuses.

"Well yeah. A minute ago I was working out a way to ask you to lift up your dress so I can see the bikini I know you have to be wearing," Jim admits and laughs as he tries to dodge her sporadic swings. "Hey, no assaulting your captain. I don't care if I'm a guy."

"Unbelievable," Uhura mutters with a shake of her head and an eye roll, but she's also sporting a begrudged smile. "Look—Spock and I were talking and we both think you deserve a day off. So we've decided to take the munchkins off your hands and to Temtibi Lagoon. The waters there are absolutely perfect, and the sands are gorgeous as well. Or so I hear."

"Uh—" Jim stammers as he tries to comprehend Uhura's gesture of goodwill. "Yeah, I mean, as long as they're okay with it."

"They already know. Spock would have told them a day or so ago."

"What? Really?" Jim makes a face. "You know I'm happy you two have worked things out but I don't think I'm comfortable with this whole cute couple conniving-ness."

Uhura gives a cutting smile and looks at Jim beneath her darkly full lashes.

"So are we friends now, or what?" Jim asks as they exit his quarters.

"With me, sure." Uhura gives Jasel, Leona and Riesa the thumbs up and the twins give an excited shout. She grins at Spock, who then furrows his brow in question. "Have a good shore leave, Captain," she says with a graceful wave as she leads the children away, leaving Jim alone with Spock.

"Yeah, you all too," Jim says as he keeps his eyes narrowed on Spock. When Uhura and the kids are out of sight, he says, "I knew you were up to something."

"I am unable to comprehend your meaning, Jim," Spock replies coolly.

"Oh and now you use my first name!" Jim crows, pointing an accusing finger. "Look Uhura may not know what's going on but I get it. And I have to say, good job. Looks like you took my advice after all. Patched things up really nicely, did you?" He shakes his eyebrows suggestively.

"Doctor McCoy requested that I inform you that he will be awaiting your company in the Transporter Room," Spock says with obvious deflection.

Jim rolls his eyes. "Alright fine. I'm going. But be warned—if you let any of the little ones drown then I will drown you," he cautions and walks off without waiting for a response.

True to Spock's word, Bones is waiting for him on top of one of the transporter pads with Chekov and Scotty in tow. When he notices Jim's approach, he looks a little less grim and a bit more eager. It warms Jim's heart to know that he's the reason for that kind of change in Bones's usual sour patch demeanor.

"Ah, Keptin!" Chekov greets sunnily. "The Doctor said that you would join us. I am happy to see this is true."

"Aye, and me as well," Scotty says with his devil-may-care grin.

"Happy to tag along. After all—we're all guys here right?" Jim says and snorts at his own joke.

Bones rolls his eyes and nods at the officer working the transporter station.

In a spin of light that breaks them apart and stitches them together again, they land smack dab in the busy heart of Risa's nightclub area in the capital of Nuvia. Jim lifts an eyebrow with interest and follows the attractive sight of the behinds of two lovely Risian females walking across their path and down the cobblestone strip.

"Get that grin off your face, Jim. We're here to drink until we don't know up from down. Not do whatever it is you're thinking," Bones warns with a scowl.

Jim rolls his eyes and throws up his hands in exasperated surrender.

"So that's the agenda, is it? Though I don't mind," Scotty says with an approving nod. "I'm keen to see just what this lot has to offer."

"In Russia, there are millions and millions of fine clubs," Chekov chimes as his spine straightens with pride. "We have alcohol that will put a man, as you say, under the table and through the floor!"

"Ah, get away with that!" Scotty scoffs. "Belfast! Now there's the place to be. They've got ale there that's illegal on practically every planet. Even here too, I bet. And good stuff. None of that weak backwater most of them try to shortchange you with."

"Well I for one think we should just follow Bones's lead," Jim announces and claps a hand over his best friend's shoulder. Bones jolts with a start and throws a baleful glower Jim's way. "So. Where to first? It's your world, Bones, and we're just living in it."

"I know you haven't ate. That'll be no good. I know a place we can go. Let's get some food in our stomachs first, and then I'll show you all a thing or two," Bones says with a smirk.

They get taken first to this little restaurant on the edge of the Suraya Bay. It was pretty packed when they got there because it was so close to the time of the Moon Festival and as a result there were a many species vacationing on the perfectly weathered planet. By the time they got a booth for themselves, it was well past three p.m. and by the time they left it was eight o'clock. The place was called Eektanee, where they served spice noodles the color of black tar, a special serving size fish pudding pinked for flavor and moon cakes as sweet as rice pudding but softer than angel food cake. Between the four of them, they cleared out a good five dishes of the stuff, with still enough room to spare. Jim really enjoyed the moon cakes and he made sure to put in a particular order of them before they left (he asked for a dozen of them to be delivered to the Enterprise).

Bones then took them to a nightclub called Furanda Kiwi. It was three-leveled place designed for the purpose of dancing, drinking and entertainment. The first floor is the dance floor filled with special strobe lights and glass floors that showed a tank of glow fish swimming around under your feet as you danced. The second floor is where the bar and the alcohol is served. There are over hundred tables and even more bodies that filled the place as a whole. Jim recognizes a few of his junior crew and he polite enough to wave with a friendly grin.

The top floor is what one could basically label as a strip club.

"Can we—"

"Drink first, Jim," Bones says with an exasperated snort. He rolls his eyes when Jim pouts. "Oh would you come on, you big baby. We've got plenty of time for the top floor."

"Yeah but I—"

"Drinks first."

"Fine."

Chekov and Scotty engage in a little drinking game that, to be honest, seems like a disaster waiting to happen. Jim is just laughing it up anyway because the messed up part about it is that the both of them are doing their own thing (Scotty is playing some kind of game he learned with the other engineers back at the academy and Chekov is working his way through a string of Russian games). Jim decides to take it easy tonight. He'll have to be the sober one it seems—he doesn't mind that. He likes to keep a clear head when he's getting a lap dance. Speaking of which—

"Now? Can we go now? I've had like, three and a half Risan mai-tai's," Jim whines at a partially tipsy Bones. He knows that Bones is tipsy because his CMO can barely keep the scowl on his face. Its beyond amusing and its nothing Jim hasn't witnessed plenty times before.

"Fine, fine," Bones grumbles and clasps his sweaty palm on the nape of Jim's neck as he uses the other hand to take his drink with him as they travel up to the top level.

"We're going upstairs!" Jim shouts over his shoulder at Chekov and Scotty. They stumble after them and tread close behind.

There is a pulse of music and sensual light that greets the four of them as they make their way through a swaying crowd hooping and hollering towards a black linoleum t-shaped stage outfitted with runway lights and odd shaped dancing poles. There are all manner of species of exotic dancers grinding and doing their own art form of dancing tricks to the throbbing beat of music. Jim is giddier than a school kid in a candy store. Chekov and Scotty have put their squabbling debate over who won on hold in order to stare wide-eyed at the scene before them. Chekov goes redder than a bottle of hot sauce, and with a cute squeak, he ducks behind Scotty for protection. Though it's unclear how much protection Scotty will be since he's walking closer to the stage in a zombie-like daze with his mouth open in amazement. Bones just follows after them to make sure they stay out of trouble, but he seems unimpressed by the entertainment all the while.

Jim makes to grab the ceremonial costume bead necklaces in a glass bowl that's circling the room and throw a few at the dancers he likes best when he spots a blonde bombshell huddled in a corner by herself wearing a Starfleet academy red dress. Her blonde hair falls down over her shoulders and lays in layers around her curvy breasts. She's sipping on a Risan mai-tai and leaning against the wall with one arm crossed across her chest, peering at the stage with her head cocked in fascination that borders on a scientific curiosity. Jim ditches Bones and Chekov and Scotty to leave them to their own devices. He makes his way through the crowd to the gorgeous blonde as if he's looped on a siren's call.

"So sorry—not interested," she says immediately when he manages to reach her in ample time. She's got a charming English accent, and her blue eyes are firmly fixed on the stage.

Jim grins. He loves a challenge. "You haven't even given me a chance to make my case—my name's Jim by the way and can I just say you are—"

"No you may not say because as I have explained before, I am highly uninterested," she replies and glances at him, and then over him before she reluctantly adds, "Carol Marcus."

"Marcus," Jim echoes with a thoughtful frown. He steps directly in her line of sight and leans against the wall with her as she sighs and shifts her weight back, still refusing to meet his eyes. "Now I've heard that name before I'm sure."

"Not surprising if you have," Carol says with an unimpressed twitch of her lips.

"It'll come to me," Jim supposes and looks her over unabashedly. "So, you're a cadet. What are you doing here? And I don't mean here, as in this room, because I don't judge since I'm here as well, but what I do mean is here, as in, on this planet."

"Will you go away if I say?"

"It's worth a shot," Jim teases with a grin.

Carol stares up at him finally before rolling her eyes and sighing once more. "I'm studying abroad, you can say. I'm here with a few others and our professor. It's a hands-on experience. Our professor thinks that Risa is perfect place to study tectonic instability and how technology can improve such a thing."

"What's his name, your professor?"

"Her name is Dr. Janice Lester."

"Oh," Jim says and eases back some as an all too clear picture of the aforementioned woman comes to mind.

Carol smiles unkindly. "So you've heard of her. Funny—most men tend to have the same reaction whether or not her name is mentioned in polite company."

Jim snorts and replies, "My being a man has nothing to do about it. Trust me. I sat in on one of her lectures a couple of years ago when I was still in the academy. I must have caught her on one of her crazy days because she kept going on and on about life-energy transfer as a means to combat Starfleet's misogynies."

Carol gives Jim a considering look. "I agree that her methods are extreme to a point, but she really has the foremost knowledge in regards to molecular biology."

"Is that your focus?"

"Well science," Carol admits. "But yes. I dabble in the fields of biology and chemistry—with particular interest in genetics and biochemistry."

"The Genesis Theory!" Jim exclaims with a snap of his fingers. "I remember reading your paper during my last year at the academy, before the whole Nero mess. It was featured in the Starfleet Chronicle. You were just a freshman then. I was—well—I still am impressed."

Carol face gives an attractive flush. "Usually people link me to father—he's the Fleet admiral, but I'm actually flattered that you read my theory."

"It was beyond the scope of amazing," Jim gushes. "I'd back you a hundred percent if I thought it'd make a difference. You want to make it into a project right?"

"Well my brother David and I are still in talks about that with a few Federation sponsors, but by the time we graduate we should be well on our way to starting the first phase."

"Any particular place you have in mind if you do?"

"David's fiancée, Saavik, suggested we aim for the Mutara sector. It's federation owned and it's relatively quiet space."

"Is your brother older or younger than you?"

"He's—" Carol is interrupted when a random drunk bumps into her and attempts to grope her. She shoves him off, with Jim's help, and is disgruntled when she notices that her mai-tai has soiled her uniform.

"Do you wanna maybe get out of here?" Jim suggests carefully. "I just—I'm really enjoying our conversation and I wouldn't mind if we weren't constantly being interrupted, to be honest."

"Honest," Carol echoes in a drawl Jim finds entrancing. She looks Jim over. "I do like honest."

"How about forward?" Jim asks as he presses in closer. "Because I have the most compelling urge to confess that I also want to have sex with you."

Carol pulls him out of the club by the collar of his shirt. "David and I are twins. I'm a few seconds older."

"I like twins."

"He's still engaged, Jim," Carol says with an exasperated but mildly fond laugh.

"Oh yeah," Jim recalls with a sigh. "Saavik, you said. Is she—"

"Vulcan. Most certainly. Problem?"

"Not at all."

"I love her. She's a bit complex, but she's good for my brother," Carol remarks and nods her head in a specific direction. "My class and I are holed up at the hostel right there. Lucky for me, I managed to bag a room for myself. Odd numbers, so I didn't get a roommate."

"I do like odds," Jim quips as they enter said building and climb a few flights of stairs to a hall where, at the end, Carol's room waits. The lights turn on automatically when they pass over the threshold. The room is finely furnished and spacious, Jim notes. He turns to Carol who gives a small smile as he takes a few steps towards her.

"I'm just going to change and," Carol starts as she backs up. "We can finish talking. I really do like talking with you." Her back meets the wall and she lifts her hands and puts it on Jim's chest. "Jim—"

Jim nips at her bottom lip to silence her and sinks into her mouth with his tongue. Carol moans and fists her small delicate hands in his shirt as she presses closer. She hops up and wraps her legs around his waist, making Jim grunt in surprise and stumble back towards the couch. They land with a soft 'oomph!' and Carol straddles his waist and begins rocking her body down into his. Jim's breathe hitches and his hips stutters up, as they part long enough to take each other's clothes off.

"Wait, wait," Jim gasps as Carol sucks a red mark into his chest. "I think you should know something before we—"

Carol huffs out a husky laugh. "What? You're not going to say you're a virgin or something ridiculous."

Jim colors and mutters, "Not a virgin per say but this is my first time—ah!" He scrunches his eyes close and tries to concentrate. "I meant to mention that I'm Jim Kirk. Former female, temporary male."

"Captain Kirk?" Carol says and sits up and sits back on his thighs. "But—you're nothing like how my dad—oh. Oh. Oh wow. How did—"

"An away mission. Long story. Yellow magnetic pores and molecules and—all that," Jim explains vaguely with circular motion of his hand.

"Ah. I see," Carol says, clearly smothering a laugh.

"Its not funny, Carol."

"It is."

Jim glares.

"A little," Carol teases and leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Do you still want to—"

Jim smiles a little self-deprecatingly. "I didn't mention it so you can stop. Though it wouldn't hurt if you promised to still respect me in the morning. I'm told I'll shift back any day now. Will that be a problem?"

"No problem," Carol murmurs thoughtfully into his neck. "I think we should enjoy this side of you while we're able. And perhaps one day we can do the same when you've resumed your normal framework."

"I agree," Jim says as he squirms against her wondering hands. "Feel free to break me in and all that." He smiles as she chuckles and sits up again.

"Oh," Carol says with a stunned breath. "Oh you are impressive," she whispers as she looks down at where she fists him carefully. "So pink and wet for me—you'll slide in so easy."

"Oh fuck—" Jim whimpers as his hips twitch as his cock jumps. He feels like all the blood in his body is heading south to his dick and maybe he should have thought about this whole scenario because he's sort of freaking out. This is new territory.

"Hm," Carol hums as she licks a slick trail down his chest. "You must like dirty talk. You're getting so hard for me."

Jim flushes. He's mortified. "Carol—"

"Don't get shy now, Jim. It's okay. Honesty, right?" Carol murmurs as she mouths her way down the side of his cock. "Honesty and forwardness."

"Y-yes," Jim stutters in a gasp as his hips jumps again.

"I want to ride you, Jim. I've wanted to ride you ever since you walked my way." She slides her tongue up the underside of his cock and Jim hiccups. "Then I want you to take me from behind. And more than anything I'd like to see how long your refractory period is."

"You're gonna kill me."

Carol laughs.

She might possibly kill him after all because she is all over him in the next moment (in the next hours)—hands, mouth, teeth, and forcing out these breathy little moans from Jim's pink mouth. And the mouth on her—Jim's always had a thing for dirty talk, but he'd never admit to it ever but that doesn't seem to matter to her because she's deliberately spewing filth in his ear as she rides him. She, without a doubt, has an impressive array of bedroom tricks that never fail to wrench some embarrassing little whimpers out of his throat. He's trying to understand this for what it's worth, the experience being new and all. He wants this to be something he remembers, oddly enough. But it's hard to think past the way Carol's perfect lips and fast tongue easily sinks down on his cock. He can't hear anything past her pleasured sobs, or the way the couch collapses from the strain of every position they've tried. They laugh as a cloud of feathers wash over them.

"Are they going to make you pay for that?" Jim asks as Carol curls into his side.

"Maybe not—the Risians, unsurprisingly, are tolerant of such behavior," she reports. She sits up partially and leans on a propped hand as she looks down at him. She traces her fingers over his face. "So you're on shore leave?"

"Yeah."

"We've been quite busy, have we?" she says with a smile as her hand slides into his hair.

Jim stiffens and pulls away before she can reach his scar. She doesn't say anything about that.

"Do you ever get lonely?" Carol asks as she takes back her hand.

"Sometimes, I think. I don't really know," Jim admits. "I've been pretty preoccupied with a lot of things. I don't think I've gotten the chance to sit down and think about it. I've always been fine on my own."

"It helps to have friends," Carol points out. "You have a lot of friends, don't you?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that." Jim reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ear. "I have a good handful of them."

"What's it like," Carol asks as she shifts against him and traces her eyes over his lips. "Having your own starship and a crew at your command."

"It's—heavy. I mean I like it but it's also nothing I ever could have expected. It has its ups and downs."

"Does it make a difference—being a woman?" she asks. "Dr. Lester says that it takes twice as long for a woman to get where a man can in a matter of months."

"I think I'm lucky to be where I am, and being so young. But I do think that there are some—discrepancies with female officers," Jim admits. "But I can't exactly go campaigning the injustice right now. But I would like to sometime after my five year, just because I think by that point I'll have more time to focus on the issue and speak from real experience."

"I understand that," Carol says as she looks at him with captivation. "You know, she speaks your praises sometimes. Dr. Lester. She may come off as a bit of a whackadoo but she really means well."

Jim snorts, and then notices the orange sunlight sliding along the walls. "Is it morning already?"

Carol grins.

"Holy shit. You kept me up," Jim says with an impressed laugh. "I've got to get going." He stands and searches for his clothes.

"I suppose you do," Carol remarks with a put-upon sigh. "I'm sorry to see you go."

Jim just chuckles and hobbles into his pants. He takes a moment to lean over and give her a kiss.

"Mm, go. Before I decide to chain you to my bed and keep you there," she warns with another cheeky grin.

Jim shrugs into his shirt and steps into his shoes before he approaches the door.

"Tell good tales about me, Captain Kirk. I know I will."

Jim walks out her door backwards with a cocky grin and a salute.

888

Jim returns to his living quarters to see it flooded with crayon sketches on colored paper. He frowns and recognizes Riesa's handiwork right away. He picks one and takes it to the bathroom with him as he studies the picture. He turns it over a few times as he sets the temperature for the sonic spray and notices that it is actually a diagram (or a map of some kind of storm cloud looming over a planet). He frowns and sets it on the counter as he strips down and hops under the spray with a relaxed sigh. He grins without meaning to as he recalls his insatiable night with Carol and chuckles a little indulgently while he gets to work on washing his hair.

After he's clean and outfitted in a fresh pair of civilian clothes, he gets to work with clearing his floor of the sea of drawings. He smiles fondly as he works his way through them. There are some nice drawings from Leona that involve her wearing a beautifully long royal dress with dragon patterns. She's holding hands with Riesa and Jasel and they're all smiling while they stand beside, who must be, their parents as they wave to a crowd. Jasel's drawings are neater and more academic. He's drawn detailed sketches of individual stars and planets and celestial objects. Riesa's, however, are a bit more odd and off-putting by the dark nature of them. Jim's grin fades as he notices a few disturbing sketches of a black monster with red eyes and a tall pale man that stands in the distance. And there are more crayon drawings of an icy blue planet with a looming storm cloud.

By the time he picks up the last sketch and dumps it in a box he's scribbled as 'KID'S DRAWINGS' something hits him. He knows that planet and is able to recognize it from a distant memory in the back of his mind. It's Delta Vega—the same planet Spock had stranded him and where he found Prime Spock and Scotty.

"But why would you draw that?" Jim wonders aloud to himself. "I thought you didn't know anything about this, Riesa."

It is a curious thing.

His door chimes and he's distracted for a little while in order to answer the door. It's Bones.

Bones eyes him for a second. "Where'd you run off too last night?"

"I made a friend," Jim says with a suggestive leer.

Bones rolls his eyes. "Surprise, surprise," he mutters dryly. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Nope, but I can sure go for some grub. Long night and all that," Jim says with a chuckle.

"I don't wanna know about it so keep it to yourself," Bones warns with a stern scowl.

"Liar. You do. Isn't that what guys do anyway? Share all the gritty details?"

"I'm sure they do and I wouldn't know because I know that a real gentlemen never kisses and tells."

"Ha. You tell me everything though."

"Because you whine it out of me you insufferable shrimp!"

"But we're besties! We're supposed to share."

Bones just sighs and does an about-face without the courtesy of waiting for Jim, so Jim's left scrambling after him. He tells Bones everything on the way to the Transporter Room just to watch the expressions on Bones's face shift from annoyed to awkward to slightly turned on and back to annoyed until the both of them are on the surface of Risa again. Jim just whistles with a smug grin as Bones stomps onward with a grimace and a flushed face.

"So, Bones, where are we going?" Jim asks when he's able to catch up.

"Suraya Bay. Don't you know, Kid? It's the day of Lohlunat," Bones explains and doesn't say anything as Jim wraps an arm over his shoulders.

"The Festival of the Moon. Neat," Jim says with an eager grin. He takes a moment to look Bones over. "You look nice."

"Thanks," Bones replies with a bit of reluctance, sending Jim a suspicious sideway glance. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. Can't I say you look nice?"

Bones just mutters something. As they make their way down onto the beach sands, he asks, "Did you use protection at least?"

"Protection for what?" Jim counters in a distracted manner as he eyes the colorfully outfitted beach laid with multiple concession stands and banners and dancers that are practically half-naked with interesting white films of patterns drawn against their exposed skin.

"What do you think, Jim?" Bones bellyaches. "There is a such thing as too much fun. Do I have to drag your ass back to the ship and up to sickbay to make sure you haven't contracted any virus?"

"Nah. It's fine," Jim says, waving a hand careless.

"It's fine? Jim—" Bones steps in front of him and grips him by the shoulders to look him dead in his blue eyes. "You do realize that there is a very really possibility that you can get a woman pregnant? That's why I asked you very nicely to refrain from—copulating—with anyone."

"Uh, well—we didn't exactly—I mean I didn't use a—" Jim stutters into a halt as he begins to flush. He is so not okay with this line of questioning. "But she said that she was—just—"

"Oh she said did she?" Bones scowls and gives Jim his most disapproving glare. "You better hope, Jimmy, because in about nine months from now, you could find yourself holding a little bundle of joy."

Jim makes a face. "Bones—come on. You know that I can't have kids as a woman. Why would my chances be any better as a guy? For all we know I can be just as sterile as a eunuch."

"Lovely juxtapose."

"Well look at that, you said a smart word. Ouch! What'd you pinch me for?"

"Just because you think it's not possible, doesn't mean it isn't. Strange things have a way of happenin'. In the end, biology always seems to find a way so that's why I'm tellin' you now that you better hope this isn't the case for your situation," Bones says and moves out of Jim's way. "Damn pain in my side," he grumbles as they continue on.

Jim makes a face at him and rubs at his sore arm. His mood doesn't have a chance to make a turn for the worst because they approach a pleasant smelling food stand where Jim's bombarded by Leona and Riesa. He manages to steady himself and hunch down on a knee to hug them with a fond smile. He doesn't mind that their hands are sticky with the juices from a glowing piece of fruit. Leona gives him one last smile before she rushes back over to Jasel, who is talking with Spock and Uhura.

"Missed you," Riesa mumbles into the side of his neck.

"Same here, kiddo," Jim replies softly. He rubs her back soothingly before he stands. Riesa quickly loops her fingers with his and sticks to his side like glue. Jim makes a mental note to ask her what's wrong and to talk about her little pictures. "Where are Chekov and Scotty?"

"Where do you think?" Bones counters and makes a gesture to his head that can be interpreted as 'they've probably succumbed to a nasty hangover, the prideful idiots'.

Jim snorts. He isn't surprised really. "Well let's tag along with Uhura and Spock."

Bones makes a face at the mention of Spock but he doesn't complain all that much—especially when Kenya joins them not even a second a later in a pair of bleached cutoff shorts and a bikini top. She shows off a few impressive temporary tattoos in intricate swirls made with white film.

"They are called moonlight cryptograms," Uhura goes on to explain as Kenya hunches down for the convenience of Leona and Riesa's poking and prodding. "Tonight, when the two moons are in alignment, they'll glow as white as the moons. When they do it shows that she has been touched by the moons and will have been blessed to see paradise on the event that she should pass away sometime this year—the moons' kiss is sealed into her skin, therefore Death must pardon her past transgressions and let her pass into paradise with minimal fuss."

"Interesting," Bones murmurs as he watches Kenya with barely concealed interest. She's smiling beautifully at the attention she's receiving from Leona and Riesa.

"You know what's an idea," Jim announces innocently. "We should all get into the spirit. Let's all get some tattoos." He pulls off his shirt and rubs a hand across his bare chest. "In fact—Kenya why don't you take Bones to the same stand you went to get those done. He was staring at your skin pretty hard so he must like the job they did."

"I will suffocate you," Bones hisses quickly as Kenya eagerly bounces to her feet and grabs his hand to pull him off towards the west side of the beach. "You hear me, Jim! You're not slick!" he shouts back over his shoulder.

"Have fun! Bye! See you guys later! Take your time!" Jim yells back, barely able to get the words out as he laughs. He really loses it when Bones flips him the bird.

"Are you trying to set my cousin up with Leo?" Uhura says as she approaches Jim with narrowed eyes.

"What do you mean? And since when do you call him, Leo? I don't even do that. Spock do you hear this?" Jim rambles as he tries to carefully deflect the question.

"I have no comment on the matter," Spock states simply.

Jim just rolls his eyes with a huff. He should have known he would get no help there. "Right—I'm going to go get some marks. Who wants to join me? Jasel, you don't get a choice. You too, Spock."

Leona and Riesa's hand shoots up and Jasel sends Jim a venomous glare. Spock lifts an eyebrow and looks to Uhura who just grins with a shrug.

"Might be fun," Uhura offers and ignores the way Jim fist pumps.

"Let's go to the one over here," Jim says as he points.

They go to a stand hosted by all Risian females that seem to be well into old age, but nevertheless have the steadiest of hands. Jim finds the way they mark him peculiar, mostly because of the process. Two women take his hands and traces the lines of his palm before whispering an array of affirmatives. Unlike Kenya, his swirling tattoos begin in the middle of his forehead and cover half of his face on the right side before expanding out across his neck, then to his chest and back, and then to his stomach. When they finish, they press a jewel to the middle of his forehead.

"Um, what are your names?"

"Anlista."

"Avonlea."

"Pretty. Um, so—why do I get the special treatment?" Jim asks as they begin to sprinkle a unique kind of translucent glitter over him.

"You are marked," Anlista explains.

"Death recognizes you as a friend. He will always pardon you," Avonlea adds.

"I'm sorry?" Jim says and blinks. "Did I—what?"

"You are recognized. The Great Mothers will receive its blessing from you. For you are blessed and highly favored. You need not the reverse," Anlista clarifies as they sprinkle more translucent glitter in his hair and over his body.

"We have finished." Avonlea nods gracefully and they move onto their next patron.

All Jim can do is stare after them.

"Look!" Riesa chirps excitedly and shows off her markings as she runs up to him. Leona joins them and does the same. "Wow, yours is different, Lady Jim."

"Very," Leona breathes with awe as the both of them set to work with studying every inch of Jim's skin.

"What did you do?" Uhura asks after Jim drags Leona and Riesa over to where Spock and Jasel are getting their marks. Uhura is already there, and she has very little marks, but no less impressive. Like everyone else, her face is clean and unmarked.

"What do you mean?" Jim asks as he watches Leona and Riesa run up to their brother and watch him. It's clear he's trying to shoo them off but the young Risian male that's inscribing his tattoos is chastising him.

"You look—extra."

Jim just shrugs and turns his eyes to where Spock is. Spock sits shirtless and perfectly still as five old Risian males set to work with marking him down. His shoulders sit in a neat line and his palms are facedown across his thighs. His face is blank but his eyes move carefully from side to side in curiosity. His eyes meet Jim and he raises an eyebrow in question.

Jim just gives him the thumbs up.

Uhura slaps on her glasses as the sun begins to burn more brightly.

"Why's he got so many working on him?" Jim asks as he continues watching.

Uhura, who has somehow procured a peach red drink with mini-sparklers, strawberries and pineapple, removes her attractive mouth from the straw to say, "I'm not sure. They got excited when he sat down and started fussing over him and then one after another began flocking to him. They seemed—eager to—I don't know—mark him. I had one person working on me. So did Leona and Riesa. It seems like you and Spock have something going for you."

"Well, sure, but he got more than I did," Jim points out with a slight pout.

Uhura rolls her eyes at his childishness. She goes to sip her drink but Jim gracefully plucks it out of her hands and starts drinking. "Kirk—" she growls warningly.

"Is this alcohol?"

"We're on shore leave."

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"Nope. I don't want to hear it." Uhura stomps off. Most likely to get another drink.

"Okay, that's fine. I wasn't judging!" Jim yells after her. "But just to be safe, let's not go overboard! I do miss having you on the bridge, you know!"

Uhura whips her head and sends him a glare before she continues to trudge off.

"Well, geez. I was only partially joking," Jim mutters to himself as he continues to down the rest of her drink. He turns his attention back to Spock but then jumps and chokes on his drink when he notices that Spock is right there in front of him. "Shi—you scared me!"

"That was not my intention," Spock assures impassively as his dark eyes unabashedly studies the designs on the side of Jim's face. "They have marked your face as well."

"Yeah. They marked your whole face. I only got the half-deal. I'm still prettier than you," Jim teases and takes a few more sips from his drink.

Spock stares at him steadily before plucking out the strawberries that's sitting impaled on the rim of his cup and flicking them out onto the sand casually. "I was not aware that this was a competition, Jim."

"Hey! Don't take my strawberries!" Jim fusses and glares at Spock. "They're not like—in the drink or anything. I would've dropped like a fly a second ago if they were. It's fine. I'm fine."

"It is more suitable to be cautious than careless," Spock corrects evenly.

"He's right, Jim," Bones says, appearing out of nowhere and stealing his already pre-stolen drink.

Jim jumps, startled, and slaps a hand over his heart. "What the fu—God, Bones! Don't do that! Is everyone looking to give me a heart attack?" He huffs and tries to regulate his breathing as his heart thrashes wildly in his chest.

"Oh like you like to do us almost every goddamn day?" Bones counters after a brief swallow. He holds the drink out of Jim's reach when Jim attempts to steal it back. "Get yourself some lemonade."

"I liked that one just fine!"

"Your markings are gorgeous!" Kenya exclaims as she studies Jim and Spock with great focus.

"Thanks. Bones! Stop being like that. I'm on shore leave! I should be able to do what I want. I'm a grown woman!" Jim exclaims and doesn't miss the looks tossed his way by the other patrons of the beach. "Well, I will be eventually."

"Lemonade or water. It's your choice. I've been nice enough to let you eat what you want, but I draw the line at drinks," Bones says, unmoved when Jim makes a tortured face.

"Oh my," Kenya says suddenly as she loops between Spock and Jim. "You have the same markings—you do realize?"

Spock and Jim take a moment to look at each other with the same amount of questioning in their eyes.

"These tattoos are also fate lines and it is extremely rare that a pair's markings has coinciding inscriptions since—"

"Nope," Jim interjects pleasantly and strolls away to join Jasel, Riesa and Leona. He doesn't have time to hear this whole spiel today. Today he's going to pretend that things are all good and normal.

Jim and the kids go concession stand hopping when they admit they haven't eaten. They try an array of Risian delicacies—some good and some not so good. Jim loves the veggie kabobs—of course, mainly because he's not a big meat-eater, much to the bereavement of his CMO. He also doesn't waste time gorging himself with moon cakes, but he slows down to halt so that he can go swimming with the kids a little over thirty minutes after they've eaten. The natives have assured them that the water won't affect their tattoos, so they happily play a bit of water polo and any game that Leona and Riesa wants to play. Jasel is the exception, but with the help of the twins, Jim manages to bully him into a few of the games.

They come ashore by the late evening hour and move to join the expanded group of his crew. They have a nice little setup, but far away enough from the tide. There's a cozy little campfire made of green and pink fire that mirrors all the other fires along the beach and the torches held by the half-naked dancers. Jim plops down between Chekov and Scotty and joins in on their little physics debate. Jasel takes a seat on the other side of Uhura, who is sitting beside Spock while she plays the Risian lute and sings with a few other Risian women who look to be her age. Leona and Riesa make themselves comfortable with Bones and Kenya. Jim takes a second to miss Sulu. He sorely wishes that Sulu could've been here to enjoy this.

"Chekov, did you bring your PADD?"

"Aye, Keptin. I did."

"Thanks. And it's Jim. We're on shore leave, remember?"

"Ah, sorry. Jim." Chekov reveals a PADD from behind him and happily hands it over. "Keptin—ah, no—Jim. If I may be asking—what do you need it for?"

"I'm going to take pictures and send them to Sulu," Jim explains as he kneels on his knees before Chekov. "And I know just who to start with." He opens up the camera application and aims. "Say cheese, Pasha!"

Chekov flushes at the nickname but he slaps on a beaming smile that's brighter than a thousand suns, and in Russian, says, "Syr!"

The photo takes and Jim gives him a thumbs up. "Okay. Now you with Scotty."

Scotty sticks two fingers up behind Chekov's head with a sly grin.

Jim chuckles but captures the moment. He stands and swaggers over to Leona, Riesa, Bones and Kenya. "Give your best smile!" is his only warning.

Leona, Riesa and Kenya do it easily enough but Bones, being the spoilsport he is, hides his face behind his seafood kabob and drink.

"Bones, come on!" Jim aims for just Bones and Kenya this time.

Kenya does a unexpected move and grabs Bones's head between her hands and kisses him directly on the mouth. Bones makes a sound of surprise but manages to still use the drink to block their faces just at the moment Jim starts snapping away.

"You're a punk!" Jim accuses and kicks some sand at Bones.

Bones grumbles something but he lowers his drink and shifts closer to Kenya to deepen the kiss, and she responds with a happy sound.

Jim is polite enough not to take pictures of that. Instead, he turns his attention on Leona and Riesa, who pose happily for him like the cute bunch they are.

He'll just stash these away for his personal collection.

He then wonders over to Uhura, who has her eyes closed as she sings gorgeously in a soulful voice while strumming gracefully at the lute with the other Risian woman. He quietly snaps a few pictures of the scene. He's so ensnared by Uhura's stunning vocals that it takes him a minute to notice Spock and Jasel are absent from the seats they were occupying before.

Jim frowns and looks around to see the two of them standing at the edge of the water as the tide slides over their bare feet. Spock has his hands tuck behind him as Jasel crosses his arms. They're both looking up at the darkened sky as an explosion of impressive show of fireworks boom overhead in all types of shapes, from galaxies to animals to symbols as a way to countdown the minutes until Risa's two moons align. Jim quickly captures a few of them before aiming the focus down to Spock and Jasel. He then walks over and around them to getter a better view. Like Bones, Jasel tries to hide his face with a scowl. Spock only studies his hands where the PADD is.

"I'm sending Sulu some pictures. He would've loved this I'm sure," Jim explains as he takes a few pictures of Spock's blank face.

The sound of horns and drums ring out across the beach and all of the dancers indicate for the visitors to stand. Jim isn't sure what's happening and he can't follow the thought because Leona and Riesa appear out of nowhere and snatch Chekov's PADD from his hands.

"Hey!" Jim says with weak indignation, but they're already out of reach, bouncing around and sharing the PADD between them to take pictures.

"I'll retrieve it, Jester," Jasel offers in a bored fashion and treks after his twin sisters.

Jim just sighs and turns to Spock to make some kind of comment but the words get lodged in his throat as his eyes widen.

Spock notices and says, "Captain—" but his words halt as well.

Jim watches as Spock's swirling tattoos begin to light up as if a barrel of moonlight in liquid form is being poured inside of him and peeking through the inscriptions. It's ethereal and surreal and wonderful and—

"Fascinating," Spock murmurs as his eyes take in Jim's own engravings.

The drums in the distant grow faster in pace and a chorus of voices begin to sing up towards the sky as the whole beach lights up from body to body until each individual becomes like a celestial lamp. Excited shouts and handclaps follow soon after and before Jim can make sense of things, a group of dancers and drummers begin to circle around Spock and him, drawing the attention of the rest of the inhabitants of the beach. Some of the Risians began to indicate and gesture for everyone to come closer and before long there is entire swarm of people watching them.

The moonlight caresses his skin like a gentle touch, causing Jim's heart to speed up when he feels those bright rays of light reach inside his mind and open the bond up on both sides. He's suddenly bombarded by Spock's confusion - wonder - disquiet. It falls over him like a rising tidal wave, and it sinks into his bones long enough to make his knees shake. This feeling isn't sexual, Jim is an expert at that, but it is, however, strangely familiar. It's a connection—an intimate and deep connection that spills over inside of him. His blue eyes lock onto Spock's, and he can see the same kind of alarm in those dark eyes. Jim can feel him, right there—right in his mind.

Spock?

Hesitation, quick and brief, but then—

Captain.

This isn't good is it? This isn't normal.

I do not believe so. I am unable to block you at this present time.

This wont affect us, right? This isn't morphing the bond somehow?

It is—unclear, but I do not believe so. The effects of this ceremony and the celestial influence of their moons seem to have weakened the integrity of the bond. Once we have departed I will endeavor to correct it.

Yes. Right. Good.

Jim won't admit to being afraid, but this is more than he was prepared to handle. He feels so open—like Spock can reach inside of him at any moment and pull anything he wanted to out. He doesn't like that feeling at all, and he bets that Spock doesn't as well, because Jim can feel him too. He feels that open connection inside of him—and all he would have to do is follow it through and he'd be right there on the other side, in Spock's mind. Jim watches as both he and Spock begin to shine brighter than anyone else on the beach, and on top of that, the translucent glitter that's stuck to their skin begins to float upwards into the sky in a swirl of sparkles and twinkling pixie dust, all the way to the two moons that sit overhead.

The Risian drummers and dancers begin to rejoice even more until the glow of everyone fades away, along with their tattoos, and finally, they're all left with bare skin. Outbreaks of handclaps startle Jim and Spock out of the daze of their bond. Spock immediately slams his shields back up, and he seems to be shaking partially from the straining jolt of it all. Jim swallows as his heart gives a tickling thump against his ribcage and quickly moves into the crowd to escape all those curious eyes. It's not until he's making his way to the kids does he realize that he's still shaking too.

888

At the end of the festival, everyone boards the Enterprise and preparations to leave are commenced. Jim gets no sleep that night. Though he never suspected he would—the whole of the situation still has his equilibrium off balance. He'd spent the majority of the night, after making sure the kids were cleaned and put to bed, perusing through the lower decks and making idle chitchat with the junior ranks. Unfortunately, most of that chatting was inexplicably the grandest sense of awkward he had ever encountered. By now the rumors would have circulated about what occurred on the beach, if they hadn't witnessed it themselves. It would be obvious now that there is something more going on between him and Spock, and they would talk.

God how Jim wishes they wouldn't talk.

Sometime after the exhaustion of it all, Jim makes a mental note to call Prime Spock and complain. On the way back to his living quarters, he stops midway and decides to go to the nearest Ready Room. Upon entrance, he has the computer recite the time and when he decides it's not too early, he makes his way around and to the front of the long conference table. He leans back and eyes the view screen before verbally instructing the computer to activate its new code of firewall so that he can open up a link to earth and contact Smith's sister. Her face appears across the view screen in seconds, her hair is unkempt, she's wearing a duck yellow bathrobe, and she looks both tired and confused. She also looks to be in her mid-forties, she has dirty-blonde hair, and blue eyes that are much like Smith's. The relation is obvious in the physical features.

"Good morning. Can I help you?"

"Martha Smith?"

Martha's expression turns guarded. "Yes?"

"You're Kelly's younger sister."

Martha doesn't say anything to that. She heaves a great sigh before she leans forward and rubs the heels of her hands against her eyes.

Jim decides to keep going. "I'm sorry to inform you that she has recently passed."

"How recently."

"A little over two weeks ago. I would've called you sooner, but there was an ongoing investigation. Still kinda is."

Martha drops her hands and her expression is blank. "Do you mind if I just—get a cup of coffee?"

Jim shakes his head.

Martha stands and ambles her way over to her small kitchen. She grabs a mug from the dish rack beside the sink and pours herself a cup of coffee from a pot that is already brewing beside a toaster oven. The next few moments are spent in the echoes of a spoon clinking along the insides of the porcelain mug, and soon after, Martha is returning to her seat on the couch. She takes a few considerate sips of her coffee and sighs before she lowers the mug to her coffee table.

"How did she die?"

"She was killed," Jim confesses and watches as an array of emotion shutters across Martha's face before she settles into something resolutely grim.

"How did you find her?"

"She was—contorted from the waist up. Cause of death was internal. She was crushed from the inside out," Jim replies and watches as Martha winces. She spends the next few moments fingering the rim of her cup before she rubs at the space between her brows.

"I'm sorry, I—I don't even know your name."

"The fault's mine. I didn't give one. Captain James Kirk of the USS Enterprise."

"Enterprise," she echoes. She mutters, "Starfleet." She eyes Jim. "You look different from your pictures."

Jim shrugs and offers a cynical grin.

"I don't mean anything by that. I have a transgender friend, you know. It's all fine with me," Martha assures and Jim doesn't say a thing about that, even though he's vaguely amused. She takes a few more thoughtful sips of her coffee. "You're ship was the one that was with the—Narada incident correct?"

"Correct," Jim confirms carefully.

Martha snorts bitterly into her cup and shakes her head. She smacks her lips as she lowers the mug again. "I'd hope that my sister being on your ship was a coincidence but clearly her and her half-witted husband were up to something. And no wonder really."

"Mind elaborating?"

Martha lifted her eyebrows with a simple shrug as she crossed her legs and looked towards her kitchen. "I've come into the family money and Kelly has, unfortunately, not—much to the bereavement of her greedy husband."

"Mudd."

Martha confirms with a nod.

"How long had they been married?"

"Decades," Martha says. "Ever since Kelly graduated high school. She was a bright one, you know. Sixteen with a diploma and already ready for the world. But our parents pitched a fit because Mudd was older. I never trusted him—he dabbled in illegal things and just like his name he was nothing but mud and he dragged my sister down with him. She died that day they left that alter, I swear."

"I'm not sure how to ask—but I'm sure you noticed how odd her age progression has been," Jim says.

Martha snorts bitterly again. "I'm going to say something, and don't think I'm playing the envious little sister card," she warns. "Kelly was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. And smarter than six Vulcans combined—but she had this weakness, you see. It's called men." She leans back in her seat. "Now I'm not faulting her for that, we've all been there, but Kelly, more than others, has had shit luck with men for as long as I could remember. Mudd was just the icing on the cake." She shakes her head sadly as her gaze lowers to her lap. "She called me one night, a long time ago. It was the last time I ever saw her—as my sister." Martha exhales shakily. It is obvious that this is difficult to talk about just by her body language and tone of voice. "She said that Mudd had something for her. Some kind of special gift that was going to make—that was going to strengthen their marriage and their love."

"When was this?"

"Three—maybe five years after they got married," Martha explains. "I think that she was thinking about leaving him because our parents were threatening to disinherit her. Now, make no mistake when I say that. We never came from money. My dad was a simple construction worker and my mom was a schoolteacher. The money was from pure luck. They hit the jackpot on a Wednesday night lottery when Kelly and I were tiny little things. It's enough to last for generations. Our parents died and left it to me, just as I plan to split it between my three boys and my two daughters. But you know, Kelly, with all her brains, wanted to be a teacher too with young kids. She loved kids more than anything and she was looking forward to opening up her own school with whatever inheritance money our parents would've split between us.

"But as things are sometimes, they had a bit of a stipulation. They didn't want to give Kelly any share because that meant that Mudd got a share as well—and we all saw Mudd for the no good he was. Unfortunately, Kelly didn't. When I say she loved that fool, I mean she loved that fool. He made her blind to all the wrong things. So she basically told our mom and dad that she didn't want any part of them or their money if that meant she had to leave Mudd. I think that sowed a few seeds of discord between them. Mudd wanted the money but Kelly just wanted him. Mudd has always been a chauvinistic pig that only appreciated two things in life, which is beautiful women to call his own and money. And what kind of profession do you know that would allow a man like that to have both in order to make a living?

"Kelly—" Martha struggles with her words as she fiddles with her cup and she ends up expelling a rough sigh before she begins again. "Kelly wasn't supposed to end up like that. I never—I mean—to even think that my quick-minded sister would dabble in intergalactic prostitution rings and smuggling rings and war conspiracy rings. I just—I couldn't believe that someone who had the potential to come so far would fall so hard to earn and keep the love of a man who didn't even deserve it. She would call me from wherever she was just—crying and crying over and over and between her sobs she'd be trying to convince me that Mudd loved her and all this other bullshit. And I would think to myself that this can't be right. I was only twelve when she first got married and by the time I was seventeen and by the time she stopped calling and sending me holographic postcards, I knew deep down within me that there would be nothing I could do to help her. Because after our last conversation she wasn't even there anymore. She was always so angry and vicious and different—like it wasn't even her.

"And you know what, it wasn't her. It was just this thing that Mudd put inside of her. It was just so awful and wrong. She used to come randomly throughout the year and sit with us for dinner or breakfast and she'd just say these awful things to us. It was like she saw things that a normal person wouldn't see. She never changed. She looked no different from the day she left us. And our mother had always been religious and she would beg our father to get some sort of—spiritual help or seek it through some deity. And it was a horrible time in my life because I felt like everyone around me was just losing their mind. Then, just like that, my parents died and I was left with everything. I was left with everything and I was also pregnant with my first child. The father of my children and I never got married. He offered every time we had another kid but I didn't want to—not after everything that had happened. Not after watching my sister disappear for years only to come back in the form of report given to me by a Starfleet Captain explaining that my sister died from unnatural contortion."

Jim feels inklings of guilt begin to worm its way in. "I'm sorry. Truly," he says.

Martha nods silently. She takes another inhale/exhale. "She never got to meet my children. She would've enjoyed all of them, and I wish I could've shown them how she used to be. But—I can't." She shakes her head. "I've spent most of my life treating her memory as if she were dead and now that she actually is—I just—I don't know. I thought—well with whatever Mudd was doing with her—I thought she'd outlive me. I thought she'd outlive him and that maybe one day she could be free to be like she's always wanted. But I think I also knew it would end this way. My mother always said whatsoever is started in blood must end the same."

"I know this is difficult for you to talk about," Jim says. "But you mentioned Mudd was involved in smuggling. Did you mean human trafficking?"

"I meant, Captain, that he dabbled with all sorts of odd jobs. One of them being human trafficking and at times also interspecies trafficking. He was no respect of persons. That was his specialty—extraction jobs." Martha takes a moment to frown. "Do you—do you know where he—"

"Dead," Jim confirms. "One of his last jobs told me so."

"Oh," Martha says simply and she looks upset by the news. "God—I just—it's not even satisfying to hear like I always—" She trails off and lets out a rough sigh. "It's over now. I guess that's all I'm going to focus on." She swallows and fiddles with the cup in her hand. "My sister's body—what did you do with it?"

"Despite things, she's still intact for a proper burial."

Martha's eyes flash suddenly. "What?"

"At your request, we could have it shipped," Jim offers.

"You didn't burn it?" She begins to look panicked. "Please tell me that you burned her body."

"Burn? No—why would we have?"

"For the sake of your own safety," Martha snaps. "I may not be a religious person but I understand that this is how these things go." Her shoulders slouch and her eyes move restlessly. "I was afraid of this."

"Afraid of what?"

Martha looks at him sharply. "That thing—it's still on your ship. And if you were smart, you'd get rid of it. Then again, it might be too late since you waited this long to inform me. For all I know, it could have jumped into the next available body—God, what a mess." She shakes her head as she fists her mug. "You got to get that thing taken care of."

"How exactly am I supposed to do that?" Jim asks. "And you haven't really told me enough about 'that thing' besides making the mere mention that it was inside of your sister."

"What exactly do think has been keeping her so young all this time? I'm pretty sure that whatever was found in her autopsy report must have confounded your doctors. Kelly wasn't right and she hadn't been right for a very long time. When you told me how she died, I thought that you had witnessed that thing come out of her yourself, because that would be the only way she would've died, and I thought you'd taken care of it but obviously—" The screen fizzles and goes in and out. Martha looks stricken by the time the link has healed itself and she clamps her mouth down again.

"Ms. Smith?" Jim says worriedly. "Is everything okay?"

"If it does find it's way inside someone else—don't listen to a word it says. That's how it gets you, by spitting out your truths. It'll reach in you like that. Just don't let it start talking about you. I have to go. I've said too much as is. I wont be involved in this—not again. I'm sorry. Goodbye Captain Kirk."

Jim is at a loss when the view screen clears and the connection is lost.

"McCoy to Kirk."

Jim unconsciously reaches for his communicator and flips it open. "Kirk here."

"I suggest you get down to sickbay, and you bring ole pointy-eared with you. You're gonna want to see this."

888

Spock meets Jim at the entrance of sickbay. Things are still a bit stilted and awkward between them. Before Jim even has a chance to voice his concerns about Jasel, Leona and Riesa, Spock informs him that the kids are well in order and that he had taken it upon himself to ask Chekov for his assistance. Chekov eagerly agreed to help, and Spock goes on to say that Chekov had promised to use all means available to him to keep them entertained.

Jim is only slightly concerned.

When they enter sickbay, the med staff are flying to and fro with their charts in an almost frantic dance around the blue curtain encompassing the biobed in the middle of the room. Jim doesn't take the sight to be a good sign and luckily Bones spots him before vice versa.

"You're here—good, or not, I can't decide yet," Bones mutters gruffly as he makes a beeline for them. "Maybe you two can help me make sense of the situation." He takes a moment to walk to the access pad by the door, and he waves in Cupcake, who is followed by two more security officers. They stand by the door with their arms crossed as Bones keys in a code that puts the whole ward on standby lockdown.

Now Jim is really curious.

"What exactly is the situation, Bones?" Jim asks as Bones gently pushes him over to the closed off biobed.

"I'm not exactly sure, Kid," Bones admits as he lets go of Jim's arm to nod at two nurses. They stand on either side of the curtain with their hands poised at the opening.

It's almost like some kind of odd circus reveal.

Bones motions for Cupcake and his small security team to come closer. They stand right behind Jim as Spock joins him at his side. There are three steps of space between them and Jim can't help but to notice the curious gleam Spock seems to be sporting in his mud brown eyes.

Spock must feel the gaze because he turns and lifts and eyebrow in Jim's direction.

Jim gives him a sarcastic grin and doesn't say anything, just to see that glimmer of suspicion and apprehension flicker in Spock's eyes like it always does whenever Jim smiles or grins when the situation never calls for it.

"Brace yourselves," Bones warns, grabbing Jim's attention again. He signals to the nurses and they begin to carefully pull back the curtain.

On the biobed, strapped down by brown leather individual wrists and ankle cuffs, is Angela Tomlinson.

Jim is shocked.

Because not only is she strapped down, but she has black inky veins bulging in spider web patterns across her face and arms and legs. She's wearing a hospital gown and her stomach is swelled in a way that Jim doesn't recall seeing. She looks to be due to give birth any moment. Her eyes are two different colors—one electric blue while the other is swamp black—and she's in an upright position, staring at seemingly nothing as she growls, her lips darkened with some kind of black goop. Her hair is wild and damp with sweat, causing streaks of her hair to stick to her face.

It's like a horror film, or more presumably like 'The Exorcist'.

"She came in with her husband late last night. He said she'd been complaining of labor pains ever since the night Yeomen Smith died. It only recently got more serious," Bones explains as he touches shoulders with Jim. His arms are crossed and his face is set in a resolutely grim frown as he keeps his eyes on Angela. "So I observed her—ran a few tests—and everything showed up fine. She was healthy. The baby was healthy and then all of sudden her vitals went haywire and she starts attacking my staff. We had to hold her down—she bit off her husband's two middle fingers and damn near took his eyes out. I had him moved over there." Bones nods to the other side of the room where Robert is lying on his side on the furthest biobed with his back facing them.

"Is he—"

"Sedated. Had to for the pain and the—emotional trauma," Bones says as his frown deepens. He turns partially and lowers his voice so that only Jim and Spock can hear what he says next. "She's only supposed to be three months pregnant. Just look at her—she looks ready to pop. How can I explain that? I only pick up one other heartbeat beside her own and that's the kid, which isn't out of the ordinary but she looks pregnant with triplets. Her readings don't say anything other than the fact that her psych charts are off the map and that she's boiling from the inside out at a temperature of 112°C and climbing. Now I don't need to tell either one of you just how impossible it is that she's still even fully functional, let alone awake or alive."

Jim is a flabbergasted as he sounds.

"Jim—I don't know what to do here. At this rate she'll burn right through her bindings and we sure as hell don't want that. For god's sake—she'll burn a hole right through the floors!" Bones exclaims as he pulls back and turns his attention back to Angela. "She wont respond either. She just stopped. I sedated her but she wouldn't go down and I gave her enough to put a league of Klingons under."

Jim frowns and takes a step closer.

"Captain, I strongly advise against any approach," Spock warns, taking a step with Jim to match the distance.

"As much as it pains me to say, I agree," Bones mutters and walks around them to the other side of Angela's bed to look at her readings on the enlarged biofunction monitor standing alongside her bed.

"Angela." Jim waits for a response. "Angela it's me, Captain Kirk."

No response. Just heavy breathing infused with barely concealed growling.

"If you can here me—we need to know that you're okay."

No response.

"Are you alright?" Jim tries again. "Angela."

"This woman is asleep." Angela cocks her head. "Do she look alright?" she growls, but not just in her voice, but in two separate voices with opposite octaves—like two people speaking at once—like a man and a woman speaking at once.

Bones looks amazed to even hear her speak, as does the rest of all the occupants in the room.

"Who are you?"

"This man asks to many questions. This man does not want the answers," Angela says as her head rolls over her shoulders with a murky chuckle. "I do not have time for this man."

"I am the captain of this ship, so yes, I do think you have time."

"This ship belongs to Captain James T. Kirk. You are not Captain James T. Kirk."

"I am," Jim confirms as he takes another step closer. Spock matches it again with a dissapproving furrow of his brow.

Angela watches him as her lips twitch. "You are not. Just as I am not the one you call Angela Tomlinson."

"Then who are you?"

No response.

"Don't get quiet on me now," Jim says and takes another step forward.

"Captain—"

"Jim—"

Jim ignores the warning he hears in Bones and Spock's voice. "I am Captain James T. Kirk, and if there is a life-form living inside one of my crewmembers than it becomes my business to know who or what exactly it is."

The charts monitoring Angela's pulse, respiration, temperature, and brain activity sporadically jumps as soon as she tacks her electric blue and swamp black eyes on Jim. Her pupils dilate as she stares. "You are not the original. You have changed." She cocks her head slowly as she fidgets against the restraints.

"I had a little turnaround with the transporters. But I should be back to normal any day now," Jim explains casually as he crosses his arms. "Now that we've established my identity, can you tell me who you are?"

Angela just stares. She yanks at her restraints and growls when she meets resistance. "This Captain will unbind me."

"No. Tell me who you are."

"This Captain will unbind me," she growls and yanks harder on her restraints.

"Tell me what you are."

"This Captain asks too many questions—but the right questions nonetheless," Angela hisses and snaps forward as though to bite. She opens her mouth and expels black smoke. The smoke curls above her head before fading away. "I am the smoke of the flame." Her lips twitch as her legs twist in resistance against her ankle bindings. "I am the devourer." Her eyes start to glow red as her the split staccatos of her voice lowered in pitch. "I burn out the soul."

Jim gives a humoring nod before saying, "That's real poetic and all, but that tells me nothing. I still don't know what and who you are. You're lucky I value the lives of my crewmembers way above my own because otherwise I would've had you put in the airlock and expelled into space."

Angela growls and snaps her teeth. "Σκύλα! Μπορείτε μικρή γαμημένη πόρνη! Θα φάω γαμημένο μουνί σας μέχρι να κλαις! Γαμημένο επιτρέψτε μου να πάω ή να σας γαμήσω με τα όμορφα μπλε μάτια στο κρανίο σας!"

Spock grows stiff beside him as Cupcake and his small security team raise their phasers and flank along either side of Jim and Spock.

"What the hell is she saying?" Cupcake asks, reminding Jim of his presence.

"She's speaking Greek. And you don't want to know," Jim says calmly.

"Γαμημένη πόρνη. Γαμημένη πόρνη. Θα τρώτε. Γαμημένη πόρνη," Angela continues to rant, over and over again.

Jim feels ridiculous for what he's about to ask but he's left with little options, he says, "Are you a demon?"

Angela stops her ranting to throw her head back and laugh. She lowers her head with a dark smirk to say, "Do not tack your pathetic human labels to me." She snaps her teeth again. "I am the smoke. I will burn out your soul."

"I don't have one," Jim counters.

Angela hisses and yanks at her restraints. "This Captain has a soul. This Captain is of value." She slides her tongue slowly over her top lip as she slides forward down the bed. She yanks harder with her right wrist. "This woman you call Angela Tomlinson, she is weak. She will die. But this Captain is strong. This Captain is no stranger to my father Death. This Captain will be my master's want."

"You better not kill her," Jim warns as his hands tighten into fists. "That is the last thing you want to do."

"This Captain makes threats that cannot be kept," Angela hisses as she falls backs and twists among the sheets as though she were having a fever dream. The black veins in her skin pulse and bulge as her sweat drink skin grows all the more flushed.

"I never make a threat I can't keep," Jim retorts.

"Your lights make me sick," she spits as if she's being tortured.

"What do you want with my ship?"

"Everything," Angela says with a disturbing moan. "So many souls to eat her. So many to consume." She writhes and rubs her knees together as she tries to yank her ankles free. "I will feed well."

"No you wont," Jim says sternly. "You're going to come out of Angela and you're going to leave my ship."

"Did she open up?" Angela whispers as she twists her body sensually along the sheets. Her hair hides her sweating face from view as she swings her head from side to side. "Was she a good fuck, Captain?"

Jim stares as his jaw tenses.

"So pretty," she hisses in a pained gasp. "And you gave her your seed because she whined for it like the little bitch whore she was. Did you think of your mother when you fucked her? You love the ones that look like your mother. Was she—this Carol Marcus."

"What is your name?" Jim questions and forces himself not to stammer. He feels a growing sensation of queasiness quake his stomach. He refuses to believe its fear.

"A kis kurva ígérhetek semmit," Angela replies with a dark chuckle as she sits up suddenly. Her eyes tack onto Bones. "Let's go around the room shall we? Do you miss your daughter, Doctor? She's a sweet little thing isn't she? She'd looked all the sweeter if she were hung from a tree. Like your daddy. Was he so miserable? He hated you, you know. Hated you and your worthless mother. Took that old rickety rocking chair out back to the oldest apple tree and tied him a knot, didn't he?"

"Bones don't listen," Jim says hoarsely as he watches the way Bones's usually steady hands shake, face paling immensely.

"Yes, Bones. Don't listen, Bones. Don't think about the way you found your father swinging from the tree that morning, Bones. Don't think about how happy you were that he'd done it, Bones. Good, Bones. Gentle, Bones. Saving lives to cover up the fact that you couldn't save your father's. You gave up on him and so he gave up on himself," Angela hisses as she twists in her bed. She swings her gaze to Spock. "Gla-tor nash-veh kusut. Did she scream when she fell?"

Spock stiffens.

"She was so scared, wasn't she? She looked at you and you didn't save her. Gla-tor nash-veh kusut."

"That's enough!" Jim snaps.

Angela throws her head back and laughs. She inhales deeply as her eyes roll all the way to the back of her head. Her jaw falls open as black smoke expels from her blackened lips and rises like the smoke of a chimney. Her neck clicks in a cocked angle as her fingers seize up and her spine arches. "This body is fading," she rasps. "She will not last, Captain. What will you do? An exchange perhaps?"

"My life for hers?" Jim supposes and Bones chokes on a protest that is stubbornly ignored.

Both of Angela's pupils shrink. "This Captain does not understand transference." Her lips stretch out into a smile. "My master is coming. He will walk and conquer. I must prepare the way. You will be a fitting gift." She pauses to let out a rattling cough. "My master has lost his world. We once lived together—he was the flame and I was the smoke. There was so many of us and then it was taken."

"Who is your master?" Jim asks. "No more games. I agree to the exchange, whatever it is—so long as you let everyone on this ship live."

"This Captain makes unreasonable requests, but it is accepted. Your body for their lives." Angela smirks darkly.

"Agreed. Now, who is your master?"

"He is the flame. His mistress and the soldier will revive him."

"A name. What is his name?"

"He is the oncoming storm."

"Give me his name!" Jim shouts and Angela's eyes glow as the lights of the room begin to flicker and all the biobeds begin to quack.

"His name—is Kahn."

Angela flies back and her spine arches as she lets out an ear-splitting scream that releases a full body of black smoke from her body that falls to Jim's feet and builds in the shape of a man with red eyes.

"You will take me to the threshing floor. The ritual will not be complete unless you are in true form. You will let me in and we will begin."

Jim chokes as an invisible hand seizes and forces his mouth open. He tries to fight it but sharps vapors of sulfuric clouds are clawing its way down his throat and sinking into the very depths of him. There is commotion and screaming shouts of his name but the smoke is consuming him and burning up the edge of his vision. He feels hot and stifled and full and he can't breathe. He starts to feel what seems like a thousand pinprick of needles launching through every molecule. He feels numb.

Then, darkness.

888

Piiiiing. Piiiiing. Piiiiing.

"Warning. Warning. All system's shutting down."

Piiiiing. Piiiiing. Piiiiing.

Jim groans.

The siren blares in an array of horns and a wash of red.

Her eyes flutter open as she's forced into consciousness. The floor beneath her is cold and unforgiving. Her bones feel heavy and weighted like she's being held down by sandbags. She groans again—her head is pounding like a throbbing tribal drum. The red wash of light stings her dry and sensitive blue eyes as she sits upright and presses a shaky hand to her head. She looks around at all the panicking crewmembers of her ship dash back and forth in confusion.

Piiiiing. Piiiiing. Piiiiing.

"Warning. Warning. All system's shutting down."

Piiiiing. Piiiiing. Piiiiing.

Jim frowns as she tries to stand on shaky legs but her feet skid and she's forced into a semi-split. Her gaze whips down as she notices that her captain's uniform is soaked in unmistakable chunks of blood and gore. Her hair is matted and knotted with it. Her legs and arms and hands are sticky with it. She shakes as she studies herself before she pulls her caked fingernails close to her chest and looks around in confusion. Everyone is passing her by—not paying her any attention.

Just when had she turned back?

Piiiiing. Piiiiing. Piiiiing.

"Warning. Warning. All system's shutting down."

Piiiiing. Piiiiing. Piiiiing.

Jim shakes a little and swallows dryly as she crawls to the glass wall keeping her enclosed in a cell used normally for high risk criminals. And just why the hell was she inside one? What the fuck was going on with her ship and why was she stewing in, what clearly has to be, someone else's blood? What was going on? She glanced around and noticed two security officers standing on either side on the outside of her cell. A few paces ahead had Spock and Bones going back and forth in a heated debated. Bones is making wild gestures in her direction as Spock calmly responds with that level and neutral expression of his, though his posture is positively livid and rigid. He looks like a rubber band that could snap at any moment.

Piiiiing. Piiiiing. Piiiiing.

"Warning. Warning. All system's shutting down."

Piiiiing. Piiiiing. Piiiiing.

"Imminent system and engine failure commencing in three minutes. Emergency power miscarried. All power forwarded to shields in gridlock."

Jim considers the announcement in a daze as her hands slowly begin beating on the glass wall, leaving smudges of bloody hand swipes and fingerprints in it's wake. Her eyes flutter and she feels so weak. She's been drugged—that much she can tell. She's been given some kind of sedation and if she was a one hundred percent right now she would have been able to use her genius to figure out the how and why. But as is, she just keeps on pounding weakly at the glass as everyone continues to ignore her and scramble about.

Spock must notice something because he stiffens suddenly and turns his head towards her. It takes Bones a little longer—he's always been a little single-minded like that when he's enraptured in some sort of moral debate. He scowls but turns his attention to whatever has captured Spock's and when he sees Jim pawing pathetically at the glass, his expression becomes agonized. He's racing over and is down on his knees before her in a heartbeat.

"Bones," she slurs with an unconvincing smile. "Did you drug me up, you bastard?"

"Didn't have a choice, Kid," Bones admits shakily as he waves his medical tricorder up and down in the direction of her face. "You went haywire and—hell you were to strong, Jim. You let that thing inside you and you just—"

"What'd I do?" Jim asks slowly, the words unwinding like syrup from her tongue and seeping out her lips. "What did it make me do?"

Bones doesn't respond right away. He's too busy studying the results on his PADD. He looks up at her just as the lights of the ship flicker wildly before shutting down. She hears him curse. "Spock!"

"Doctor." Spock replies from somewhere in the dark. "I will search for Lieutenant Scott and Ensign Chekov. With any effort we should be able to come to a solution on how to resolve the state of the ship."

"Well I'm not gonna stop you. I want her out! Keeping her locked up isn't going to get that thing out of her. I'm far from down with our little debate!" Bones snipes with a mean glare.

Even though Jim can't see, she knows that Spock is lifting his eyebrow. "Debate, Doctor? I confess to some confusion on the matter. My formal understanding of the term identifies its meaning as a dispute discussed between two individuals with equal fervor. I seem to only recall your side of the conversation—mainly for the simple fact that you gave me little room to respond."

"Yeah, yeah. You just do what you have to do and I'll do the same. You're wasting time on me trying to spew your Vulcan logic," Bones gripes.

"It would seem so," Spock rejoinders before the soft sound of his footsteps lead off and around some unseen corner.

"Sometimes I really hate you for picking him as your First Officer," Bones confesses quietly.

Jim frowns when all she wants to do is grin at him mockingly. She winces and holds her head. It still feels like it's trying to split open.

"What do you remember?" Bones asks as he presses closer to the glass since he can't see her. Jim can faintly make out his outline in the dark.

"Nothing after the thing with Angela," she slurs and slumps against the glass where Bones is. She feels hot and uncomfortably sticky. "And I—I remember the smoke clawing it's way in me."

"Makes sense. That's about when the shit hit the fan," Bones says with a huff. "Something got inside you, Jim. And whatever it goddamn was, was the same thing that was in Angela. It took you over—made you crazy. You started attacking everyone on your way to the bridge and you locked in some coordinates that no one could change. You basically sent us careening to some sort of pulsing high-energy anomaly. As you can see, the Enterprise isn't responding well to it."

Jim frowns and blinks dazedly as her mind tries to kick into theory. "Like the—SS Valiant. Magnetic field."

"I'm going to pretend to understand what you mean by that—but yes. We're swirling in the heart of it now. It's what's making the ship go haywire. We're at a standstill above—"

"Delta Vega," Jim adds tiredly. She can feel Bones giving her a peculiar look.

"Yeah. Jim—you sure you don't remember anything? You're filling in my sentences a little too accurately," Bones says, and not without suspicion.

"Coincidence—maybe not," she slurs. "Riesa drew it." She blinks tiredly as her body goes a bit numb again. She's sliding down the glass wall and onto the floor before she can help it. "How much did you—drug me? Who did I hurt?"

"You didn't kill anyone if that's what you're worried about." Bones sounds upset with concern. "Damn Hobgoblin won't let me in there and wont let me let you out. He's got you on lockdown till we can be sure that whatever was controlling you before isn't still lingering."

"Where's the kids?" Jim uses what little energy she has left to ask this before she wipes out.

"They—" Bones hesitates. "Their gone, Jim. You sent them away. To the planet, that is. You shoved them on an escape pod and set the coordinates for the surface of the planet—though I can't say if that was you or the other thing."

Jim sobs weakly as her eyelids fall close. She's trying to tell Bones that she had nothing to do with it—and that the kids are in danger.

That thing isn't inside her anymore—it transferred into Riesa, and it's waiting.

Jim has the other side of the bargain to fulfill after all.

---

Author's Note: Expect faster updates. My semester just ended and I have the whole summer free to do as I please. I would like to wrap up this part of this series and move onto the next by June. As you can see, I recently deleted the interlude chapter because I decided to go in a different direction with the storyline that should carry over into the later part of the series. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. There is more to come. I think we have about one or two chapters left until this is finished. Should be fun.