"Mister Scott, how much longer do we have to sit here?"
Jim released the comm button in his office; tapped his fingers on his desk as he waited for his Chief Engineer to respond.
Scotty was probably elbow–deep in the dilithium crystal chamber...or on a coffee break. Either way, it could take a minute for him to get to the comm.
...It was taking a really, really long minute.
Jim pressed the button again.
"Scotty?"
"Sorry Captain," Scotty's voice finally chimed over the comm. "It's going to be a wee bit longer...at least another twelve hours. We've been running the engines ragged for three and a half weeks, and it's...well...it's showing."
Great.
Not exactly what he wanted to hear, but just about what he'd expected.
"Do what you can, Mister Scott," Jim said. "Starfleet still wants us at the next outpost in two days."
"I'll do what I can, sir...but we might have to tell them to make it three."
Jim sighed.
He had been afraid Scotty would say that. They had dropped Alvin and the three captured Augments off at Starbase Six a few days before. Alvin was headed back to Earth for...all the therapy he could get...and the Augments were back in stasis on one of the most heavily guarded bases the Federation had.
Then the admirals had sent them straight back out to ferry more of Khan's crew. The captain knew it was more than a little dangerous to run their warp drive at maximum capacity for this long.
Thankfully, after the latest round of Augment juggling, Jim had been able to convince the admirals to give them a couple days off for maintenance.
...But only a couple.
"I'll tell them three days if I have to," Jim said. "But I was hoping you and Keenser could work a little magic...Maybe give us time to swing by Tenia on our way back to Starbase Six? I hear they've finally agreed to sell casks of their purple ale to off–worlders."
"Aye, Captain! Did I say twelve hours? We'll have her running like she just came off the line in six."
Jim smirked. "That's what I like to hear, Scotty. Thanks. Kirk out."
The captain cut off the comm and leaned back in his chair, ready to…
...To do what, exactly?
All of his paperwork was done. All of it. Every last scrap of anything that he had put off writing, or signing, or even just filing properly, had been written, signed, and filed.
He wasn't hungry. He'd gotten lunch with Spock and Uhura an hour before...
The bridge was a no–go. They were standing still; there wasn't anything he could do about that until the engines were back online. The last time Jim tried sitting in the command chair with no orders to give, he'd had to apologize profusely to Chekov. Snapping at him had not been very captain–y...or friend–y…
Jim rubbed his eyes. Maybe he could read a book...or go to the gym. Punching something seemed like it'd be pretty therapeutic.
Anything was better than being in his head.
Sleep wasn't safe. Half the time, closing his eyes meant finding himself back in the command chair, negotiating with the three Augments...but with Bones in Alvin's place.
Bones with haunted eyes. Bones with a broken hand.
...A lot of times, the ending changed.
The captain thought back to the report he gave the admirals after Alvin's rescue. The admirals had praised Jim's plan as brilliant.
But how brilliant could he be if he was just reacting to whatever Khan set into motion? It was like playing chess...but a version where his opponent got to make, like, three moves for every one of his.
Even the whole 'move Khan's crew to new, undisclosed locations' thing seemed like it was just a way to feel like they were doing something, even if it didn't really seem to help anything.
...The truth was, they still had nothing.
There hadn't been any more attacks on the outposts holding Khan's crew. If Khan was alive, then he was being uncharacteristically quiet...and Jim didn't like to think about what that might mean.
It had been twenty four days since Khan kidnapped Bones, and Jim still had no idea where his best friend was...or even if he was still alive.
They needed to go on the attack. If they couldn't find Khan and Bones in...and he could hear his friend's voice as he thought it…'this ungodly expanse of stardust and death…' then they needed a way to lure Khan out.
But how could they lure someone out if they had no way to contact…
Jim's mouth dropped open. His hand scrambled onto the comm button.
"Kirk to Commander Spock," Jim said.
"Yes, Captain?"
The admirals were wrong.
"Could you please come to my office for a minute?"
"Yes, Captain. I will be right there."
"Thank you."
Jim propped his elbows up on his desk; covered his mouth with his hand.
He wasn't brilliant: he was an idiot. They were all idiots.
The door hissed open, and Spock stepped in.
"Is everything alright, Captain?"
Jim looked up; stared at his friend.
"Spock...how did Khan get that ship? The one he used to infiltrate those bases?"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "It appears he stole a supply ship called the Starhopper when it attempted to dock at Xedna Eight. We have already conducted a thorough search of the planet: there was no sign of Khan, or of the pilot. This has been in our reports for days, Captain."
"I know, Spock," Jim nodded. "But how did Khan know that a supply ship had come to Xedna Eight? There's no way he just waited on a deserted outpost, hoping for a small, warp–capable ship, to pop out of nowhere...So how did he know?"
Spock's eyebrow twitched up a little higher.
"Logically," Spock said. "He must have remotely accessed the outpost's sensor data...You are suggesting that Khan has hacked into Starfleet's subspace communications network?"
"Exactly," Jim nodded. It was the only thing that made sense. "He might've only hacked into the lower security levels to avoid detection, but he's got to be in there."
Spock lowered his eyebrow.
"Jim...if Khan was able to hack into our communications systems for this long, then he has undoubtedly found a way to mask the source of the intrusion. I do not believe we will be able to track him."
Jim shook his head; grinned.
This was it. This had to be it.
"Spock, we don't need to find him. We need him to find us."