Twelve: The Mangrove Lagoon at Low Tide

They set sail the next morning, with a clear sky and a calm sea.

"May as well try the Strait again," Jimmy had said, and Pavel had dutifully pointed his little telescope at the horizon to scan for the Narada.

It was a leisurely sail, and when they had cleared the southernmost tip of the island, Jimmy took them up closer to Kiwani Bay, within sight of the fishermen on the shore, just in case the Enterprise or any other government ships were lurking about further seaward. Nyota sat on the hull at the bow of the boat, her cutlass in its palm leaf scabbard tucked into her kanga, letting the wind whip through her hair.

"No, no. This is wrong. You cannot... we must turn," Pavel said, clutching the parchment map.

"What? Why?" Jimmy asked, clearly comfortable with the rapid pace they were setting, and the wind in his face.

"There is..." Pavel turned and spoke with Sulu in their secret language. They both made a sort of sweeping motion at the sea. "Sea trees, everywhere, sea trees."

"Sea trees?" Nyota said. "Pavel, are you saying there's mangr-"

The dhow thudded to a halt, and Nyota tipped over the bow.

Instead of plunging into water, she landed on hard, scratchy roots. "Aaargh!" she cried.

"Whoa are you okay?" Jimmy rushed to the front of the now totally immobile dhow. The other men came to peer over the edge.

Nyota tried to get her bearing – the mangrove roots were sharp and cut her everywhere she touched them. She was lying in about a foot of water, and roots spread out all around her. She slipped trying to get up and scratched herself further.

She looked up at the men staring down at her from the dhow. "Don't you all rush to help me at once!" she said. Sulu smiled wryly, and reached down to help her. She grabbed onto his forearm and he lifted her out of the sea.

"What was that?" Jimmy asked in disbelief.

"Mangrove roots. Sea trees," Nyota winced, lowering herself onto one of the benches, bleeding all over. "You sailed us right into a nest of them."

"Well thank god for that," Jimmy. "I thought it was some kind of sea monster."

Bones snorted, coming over to look at Nyota's cuts and scrapes. "It might as well be a sea monster. You don't happen to have a plan to get us out, do you, captain?"

Pavel looked miserable, looking between his map and at Jimmy, wide-eyed. "I try to say," he said softly. "Sea trees, in this bay. Map is wrong, is further in sea than I thought..."

"Yeah it's fine Pavel, whatever," Jimmy said impatiently. He stood at the bow of the boat, trying to shake it free. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, shielding his eyes and looking across the bay to the shore. The tide was out, fishing dhows lay on the bare beach – nobody was going out that day. "Sulu, come on."

Even Sulu looked doubtful, as he and Jimmy went to the stern of the dhow and tried to rock the rudder free of the roots it was resting on. "We're getting free," Jimmy insisted, "if we have to get out and push!"

Three hours later, they were still sitting in that dhow on top of the mangrove roots. The tide had gone out further, only an inch or so of water remained atop the roots, some of them poked above the surface. The sun was high in the sky, the air was still and they were baking. Everyone else had given up. Jimmy had too, once or twice, until he got himself worked up again and went back to throwing his weight against the sides of the dhow, trying to get it to move in any direction.

He stood in the corner of the stern, tilting back and worth, rocking the dhow slightly. "You know if everybody helped," he spat, "we'd get it to move."

"It would just tip over you idiot!" Bones snarled. "And then what would you do? Walk back to shore on a top of razor-sharp roots?"

"Does anyone else have any solutions?" Jimmy exploded.

Nobody responded. Bones and Nyota looked at each other skeptically. Sulu and Pavel were sitting on the deck in the middle of the boat. Pavel was wilting in the hot sun and Sulu was rubbing a cream made from pressed plants onto the boy's back.

Jimmy huffed loudly, clenching his fits and kicking at the mast of the boat. "We're stuck in the middle of this godforsaken bay on top of a bunch of fucking sea trees? Does nobody get how ridiculous this is? And it's hotter than hell today!" He shouted at nobody in particular. He breathed deeply after that and then flopped down on one of the benches.

"You feel better?" Bones asked.

"No," Jimmy retorted, petulantly. "I'm going to die of thirst."

"Stop being an infant, we have plenty of water," Bones said. "We'll just have to wait for the tide to come back in."

Jimmy wiggled around, obviously wanting to say something childish but knowing he was beat. He gestured at Sulu and Pavel. "How come you never rub lotion on me?" he gestured at his own sunburned arms. "I'm peeling for fuck's sake!"

"Well then stay out of the sun, you moron," Bones sneered.

"That's a bit impossible right now Bones!" Jimmy shouted.

"Everybody just calm down!" Nyota raised her voice. She was wilting a little bit in the sun too. "This isn't solving anything. Just take a deep breath."

Jimmy did, and it was quiet for a moment.

"I am very sorry everyone," Pavel said, very softly. "Is my fault."

Jimmy groaned and covered his face, sprawling out over the bench. "No it isn't Pavel, shut up. It's my fault. I'm the worst captain ever."

"Stop it!" Nyota cried. She picked up a canteen from under the bench. "Look, Bones is right, we're gonna be fine. We have plenty of water, and food. We just have to wait for the tide. So what if it's a little hot, it's hot every day." She passed the canteen around, and everyone took a sip of the water.

Jimmy sighed a deep sigh, and crossed his arms. But he never said she was right.

They sat there in the sun, dozing off, when Sulu suddenly scrambled up and, shielding his eyes, looked into the distance. "Enterprise," he said.

Jimmy shot up. "What!" He looked at where Sulu was staring, and sure enough, in the distance and coming in fast was Commander Spock's ship. "Well this is just great," he said miserably.

They had no choice but to sit there and wait as the Enterprise approached, and drop anchor further asea. Then two little rowboats were lowered, and came splashing up.

Three metres from the dhow, the rowboats came to a stop. In one was Mister Scott, without his hat or jacket, sweating and panting from the paddle over.

"Good afternoon!" Scott said, cheerfully.

"Mister Scott," Jimmy said civilly. He looked over at the other rowboat, manned by an equally sweaty, skinnier blond man. "English scum," Jimmy greeted.

The man scowled and Mister Scott tutted. "Now now James, there's no need for that. This is Lieutenant Kyle, and he's been kind enough to come out here with me. Commander Spock has sent me to invite you on board, as you seem to be in a bit of trouble."

"Thanks but no thanks," Jimmy said. "We're fine until the tide comes back in."

"Och," Mister Scott said. "That's going to be hours. And you with a lady and a wee one aboard."

Pavel, wilted though he was, screwed up his face, and Nyota rested her elbows on the hull of the dhow. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, dangerously.

Mister Scott blinked. "Oh, I just mean... well the Enterprise will be much more comfortable for you, I'm sure."

Nyota just stared at him, until Mister Scott coughed uncomfortably and looked away.

Jimmy laughed. "You're a dumbass," he said. "You know she's a pirate, right?"

"Shut up Jim," Bones said, elbowing his way beside Jimmy at the side of the boat. "Think about it, you really want to sit out here baking when we could be on the Enterprise? As invited guests?"

Jimmy mulled this over, looking down at Scott mischievously. "You are inviting us, right? As guests? No funny business?"

Mister Scott smiled wryly. "Commander Spock wishes to speak to you about the star-man Nero, specifically, he would like to recruit your help in apprehending him."

Jimmy's eyes lit up. "Oh really!" He looked sidelong at Nyota, who was as stunned as he was. "So Spock wants us to do his dirty work?"

"To put it bluntly," Scott agreed. "At the very least, he would like to discuss it."

Jimmy smiled slowly, and then he gestured widely at the others. "Women and children first!" he said cheerfully.

Pavel scowled again, but he was still a little stung by what had happened with the mangroves, and he stayed quiet. Nyota rolled her eyes, but she and Pavel clambered over the side of the boat, Pavel self consciously pulling his kanga around his head and shoulders.

Sulu, of course, rushed forward to help Pavel down, and held the boy tight so he wouldn't have to put too much weight on his feet on the rough, scratchy mangroves. Sulu offered his other arm to Nyota, and she accepted it (she wouldn't have if it was Jimmy), using him as support as they very carefully walked the few meters over the prickly roots to Kyle's rowboat.

Bones and Jimmy followed suit, getting in the boat with Mister Scott.

And they all went out to the HMS Enterprise.

Lieutenant Kyle led Nyota, Pavel and Sulu to the captain's quarters at the stern of the ship. The ship was huge and well constructed, and the captain's quarters were lavish. There was a front office, which was at least three or four times bigger than their little fishing dhow, and a bedchamber visible through another door.

Nyota shook her head slightly in wonder at the grandeur in the ship. Commander Spock was writing with a big, poofy feather quill at his desk. He looked up and inclined his head slightly at them as they came in.

He was just so stiff, Nyota thought to herself. His features were like stone, even down to the smoothness of his pale skin, and his pointed ears added to his general over-intellectual appearance.

Still, even though his ears were very similar, his entire demeanor was unlike the other star-men, Nyota admitted to herself as she took a seat in front of Spock's desk. Her aching bones, and her cuts and scrapes, all sighed in relief as she sank down onto the relatively soft and luxurious cushioned chair.

"May I offer you some tea, Madam?" Spock asked.

Nyota shrugged. "Sure, why not."

He poured her a hot, black cup from a delicate tea set sitting on his desk. Pavel went around the room, looking curiously at the maps and the various astrolabes and sextants that were on display near the walls. Sulu kept near Pavel, but his eyes remained on Nyota the whole time, watching her like a hawk.

"You have experience with the star-man Nero," Spock said bluntly, as she took a ship.

"Yes."

"As do I. He was a criminal in Federation space before he was a criminal on Earth."

"Then why didn't you catch him?"

Spock stiffened slightly. "It is what I believe you would call a difficult situation. He led a rather large terrorist attack on my homeworld, Vulcan."

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why did he attack your world?" Nyota asked. "Nobody would do something like that for no reason."

Spock didn't answer right away, and Nyota's heart sank a little a bit at the idea that somebody could do that for no reason. "It was not a logical attack," Spock said. "Perhaps in his mind he thought it was logical. He was angry, you could say, at things that Vulcan had done to his world in the past."

Nyota twisted her mouth in distaste. Of course.

"In any case," Spock continued, "the consequent confusion created an opportunity for him to escape. It was a very long time before we learned where he had gone, and now that he is on Earth, I find myself confined by local laws and customs when it comes to apprehending him."

Nyota waited. "But..." she prompted.

"However, Madam," Spock went on. "You and your colleagues are pirates. You are not bound by any law."

Nyota scoffed. "Jimmy was right, you want us to do your dirty work."

"If it helps you reach your goal of stopping Nero, which I believe is a desirable outcome for all of us, I don't think it could be considered dirty work."

It sounded almost sassy, and Nyota bit her lip to suppress her smile. Since when did star-men have a sense of humour?

Spock leaned forward, perhaps to whisper slightly and elude Sulu's eavesdropping. "May I compliment your English, Madam," he said. "You speak it as though you've been speaking it your entire life."

Nyota blinked. "Oh, no," she brushed it off. "Only a few months."

"That is a remarkable achievement," Spock said.

"Not really."

"It is," he insisted. "To learn a language so well in such a short time speaks to a very unique talent and intelligence. Do you know any others who speak as many languages as – beautifully – as you do?" Spock suddenly looked a tiny bit discomfited by what he had said. He looked up at the door to his quarters. "Your 'captain' should be arriving soon. I hope he agrees to join in my goal, and I hope you can help me persuade him."

Nyota shrugged. "As long as I get to kill Nero," she said.

"Kill him?"

"Yes."

Spock tented his fingers, furrowing one brow. "The Federation warrant for his arrest requires bringing him back to Vulcan for a tribunal."

"A tribunal?" Nyota asked, unfamiliar with the word. "No, no. You're not taking him anywhere. I'm going to kill him."

"I'm afraid Madam, that would be a violation of Federation law."

"Yes, but I'm a pirate, as you have said, and I live outside the law," Nyota stood up then, holding her head high. Sulu took a step forward, ready to spring if necessary, and Pavel looked up from the astrolabe he was studying, curiously.

"Mister Spock," Nyota said. "The star-man Nero killed my sister. I am going to kill him in return."

Spock's mouth tilted downwards ever so slightly. "I believe I understand your desire," he said. "My mother was among those who died in Nero's attack."

The wind was temporarily out of Nyota's sails. Spock, even though his face barely changed, looked damaged and young and broken. It was in his eyes, which were deep and impossibly sad. That little glimpse surrounded by poised, carefully constructed coolness reminded Nyota of someone, but she couldn't quite place who. Not her sister, or her father, or any of the men she sailed with. Who then?

Her throat tightened when she realized it was herself.

"I am sorry to hear that, Mister Spock," she said, drawing herself up and imagining how a haughty, powerful star-woman would speak. "But if that is the case, if he has killed both your mother and my sister, and who knows who else, and taken all those people prisoner and sold them as slaves – what difference does it make it he goes home to a tribunal, or if he hangs by his neck? He needs to be stopped, completely. Killing him only makes sense."

Spock regarded her for a moment. "You are correct, in a certain light," he conceded. "The logical conclusion, form a particular viewpoint, would be that killing Nero is the most efficient way to solve this problem. He has hurt so many others, after all, and he is only one man."

He looked like was on the verge of something major, and Nyota found herself disappointed when Jimmy's voice rang out and the door to the captain's quarters burst open.

"Get your hands off me," he wrenched his hand away from Lieutenant Kyle's guiding arm, ignoring the other man's scowl. "I'm here now, let's talk!" Jimmy proclaimed. He looked around the room and gave a low whistle. "Nice digs, Spock."