Undoubtedly my favorite story arc of this fic.

Twenty-Six:
The AK47

As Phiora made her way to the mess one morning later that week, she noticed with half-hearted fascination that the only thoughts invading her head were her own. She passed a few people on the way and had to actually try to read their minds, which she realized awkwardly that she shouldn't have been doing anyway.

Hey, she reasoned as she stepped over the threshold into the mess, when you can get out of something, get out of it.

A few moments later she joined Spock, Jim, and McCoy, who was animatedly talking into his coffee and earning a raised eyebrow from Spock and an endearing look from Jim that clearly said he was only listening to humor his friend yet he enjoyed every minute of it.

All manner of previous conversation flew out the port when Phiora sat down next to Bones—across from Spock—and regarded her food.

"You okay, Lieutenant?" McCoy asked, his coffee cup frozen in mid-air. "You look like you'll give that food right back if you eat it."

He was right. The food in front of her, which was toast and pancakes, actually looked and smelled quite disgusting to her the minute she sat down. She shook her head sharply and pushed the tray away from her. "I'm not hungry all of a sudden."

Bones whipped out a scanner from his pocket. "Want me to—"

"No, I'm fine," Phiora insisted, pushing McCoy's wrist away from her. "Just not hungry."

"Well, you look a little green," Jim said, and with a glance at Spock, added, "present company not relevant."

Spock still had his attention on Phiora yet raised an eyebrow at Jim's words.

Phiora shook her head again, only calmer this time. "I guess it's...you know." How to say it in front of three men? If it were just Bones, it wouldn't bother her as much. He was a doctor, dammit. Even Spock wouldn't have minded too much, since he's all about science and well, he was her lover so of course it could've been said. But Jim was more or less her brother.

She came up with a way to say it. "I should be reading minds involuntarily by the end of the day."

It was comical, the sudden comprehension that dawned on all three of the men's faces simultaneously. Thankfully those expressions were replaced by sympathy from Jim, empathy from Bones, and the usual nothing from Spock. He did touch the back of her hand discreetly though, which was quite sufficient for her.

The rest of breakfast was pleasant, with the conversation jumping around from topic to topic with almost no segues at all. By the start of shift Phiora was feeling considerably better.

She didn't notice Spock hadn't touched his food the entire time she didn't eat.

It wasn't even an hour into shift before something happened.

"Captain," Spock said to Jim from his place at the science station, peering into a monitor. "We appear to be entering an unknown area of space."

Jim looked up from the mysterious piece of lint he'd pulled off of his sleeve and frowned. "What?"

"I do not recognize these readings." Spock's graceful fingers danced over the controls, and he looked into the monitor again. "We are in uncharted territory."

Chekov jumped as if startled. "Keptin, we're epproachink a wessel."

Jim squinted at the screen as Phiora came to his elbow from seemingly nowhere. "Lieutenant, what are you doing here?"

"I don't know," she answered simply. "I just—"

The Enterprise lurched violently and shuddered, nearly sending everyone flying forward. Kirk took a sharp breath. "What the hell was that?"

Sulu frantically flipped switches and pressed buttons while Uhura suddenly worked controls on her console. "Sir, we've been stopped," Sulu informed him.

"Stopped? By what?"

"Sensors indicate we are being held," Spock answered evenly, "by a stationary tractor beam coming from the vessel."

"Sulu, magnify view times five."

"Aye, sir."

The screen was abruptly filled with an image of a vessel so dark in color nobody saw it at first. Just as the captain was going to order another magnification, eyes adjusted and simultaneously more than one person on the bridge started. The vessel was fairly large, yet the way it was shaped was what startled everyone the most.

It was like a giant brass urn, the broad end facing the Enterprise. The surface was excessively smooth and shiny, which possibly further accounted for the camouflage, and not a single opening or indicator of any kind of door was visible.

Uhura spoke. "Captain...the vessel's hailing us...."

"Open frequency."

"Sir...the voice is really unsettling."

Jim took a second, then nodded. "Open frequency," he repeated, his voice softer. Uhura nodded and pressed a few buttons on her console. The voice spoke.

"Do. Not. Go. Further."

Kirk glanced at Uhura, whose eyes were wide and locked right on him. As he looked around, he was suddenly aware that the voice seemed to have given everyone the heebie-jeebies. He couldn't blame them.

He also couldn't blame them for feeling like some pretty heavy shit was going to go down. Unless that was just him.

"This is Captain Kirk of the Enterprise," Jim said, hoping diplomacy would work. "We're a peaceful vessel, and we mean no harm to—"

"We do not care. Who you are. Do. Not. Go. Further."

Kirk shuddered. That voice was definitely throwing him for a loop. "Alright, we'll go away if you tell us who you are."

Phiora tossed him a look that clearly asked why he valued his life so little.

"We do not. Respond. To worthless compromises. You. Will. Turn. Back."

Kirk looked over at Spock, who was standing over his console like nothing was happening. A little step to the left told the captain otherwise. The science officer was frozen mid-task, unmistakably listening to the voice and not liking it at all.

"L-listen," Jim said, internally kicking himself for betraying the fear stabbing into him via his spleen. "We're not hostile. We just want to know what you call yourselves. Once you tell us...we'll turn and leave."

Spock straightened his back sharply. "Captain, I do not agree with what it is you are attempting to accomplish and it is my firm suggestion that we turn this ship and depart from this area."

Translation: I will drop you like a sack of potatoes if I have to for this thing to get moving.

But James T. Kirk wasn't going to back down that easily, because he was an idiot.

"Who will it harm if we know what we're talking to?"

The look on Scotty's face as he turned around from his station told him everybody. But luck was in Jim's favor right then.

"You will refer to us. As AK47. Turn. Back. Now."

Kirk unfortunately didn't miss the tiny "oh God" that Uhura let run from her lips. Fortunately he did know why.

"Mr. Spock...references on anything in the past regarding those letters and numbers."

A few seconds later Spock turned away from his monitor. "Sir, I do not—"

"Just tell me what the hell you found."

If Jim wrote an entire list of things he would be very content to have never seen ever in his entire life, the look of resentment on Spock's face would have been around the top, right beneath Watching Vulcan Disappear and right above Watching Phiora Mourn Her Mother. It was so hard to look at he almost turned away. But he didn't.

"The AK-47 was an assault rifle developed in the mid-twentieth century by a Russian man named Mikhail Kalashnikov. Its circulation and usage was completely ended in the late twenty-first century." Spock's jaw muscle ticked. "It was considered one of the deadliest man-made weapons on the planet during its time."

Sulu dared a look at Chekov, who was clutching the control panel so hard his knuckles were pearly white. "Pavel...?"

"It is not...one aff Russia's nicer inwentions."

Kirk felt a pang of sympathy for the proud Russian, but he turned his attention to the matter at hand. "Um...guy? Are you still with us?"

"I am here. You should not be."

"Right, right, we'll go back now. But I want to know what we did wrong."

Spock was having none of it. "Captain, I insist that we not concern ourselves with motivation and proceed to vacate this area. I believe I speak logically when I say the name AK47 implies that this race could not possibly bring anything less than peril should we continue to provoke."

It amazed Jim how quickly that Vulcan level of calm came back to every aspect of the First Officer. He no longer seemed ready to knock something into next Tuesday.

"I'm just asking a simple question that can't hurt anyone."

"If you do, Captain, I will be forced morally to relieve you of duty for placing your entire crew in a perilous situation."

"Do not." The chilling voice broke into the bridge right as Jim was about to express offense or tell off his second in command—neither of which would have ended well. "Kirk. You have violated AK47 territory. It is too late to turn back now. However. If you assist our vessel. We shall let you go. Who was just speaking?"

Jim blinked. "Uh...Lieutenant Commander Spock." Pause. "He's the ship's science officer and my First Officer."

"Spock. Identify yourself."

Posture straighter than a board, Spock placed his hands behind his back. "I am Vulcan."

"Kirk. To assist our vessel. You must lend us. The Vulcan. And him alone."

That was when Jim remembered Phiora was still on the bridge. Mainly because she reacted before anyone else could.

"No," she said sharply, directing it right at the AK47.

"If you do not." Jim winced, knowing what was coming. "We shall destroy your ship."

Spock lifted his chin a fraction of an inch. "May I inquire your incentive for obtaining my presence?"

"You may not."

Jim's eyes slowly roamed over to Spock's face. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, recognizing the rapid movement of the half-Vulcan's eyes as heavy contemplation. He knew he was too late when the dark-haired head tilted to say much of anything in order to prevent what was, in fact, inevitable.

That didn't mean he couldn't try.

"May I have a moment to speak with my captain?" Spock asked into the air.

"You may. If you do not return contact. You will be punished."

Uhura immediately muted the frequency and slumped little in her seat as if just knowing the bridge could be heard was a heavy weight on her back and her action just lifted it.

"Spock," Jim started as Phiora approached them. "Don't do this. They could kill you and then turn to us."

"At which instant you would simply activate the Der'on Field and be fully protected."

"Then why go in the first place?"

Spock raised both eyebrows. "Is it not logical to determine first whether their intentions are genuine? I assume they feel I withhold knowledge they require due to my race."

Kirk made a quick "shut-up" gesture towards Phiora, who opened her mouth to speak. "That's great. But no. I'm ordering you to stay here. The AK47 can just kiss my ass."

"Then they will attempt to destroy us."

"You just said the Der'on Field would put them in their places."

"Captain, it had only now occurred to me that if this race has knowledge of precedent weaponry enough to christen themselves in its honor, then I believe it to be logical to presume they do not have energy-based weapons."

"Fuck logic, Spock! You're not going!"

"I am afraid I will have to bypass your authority on the grounds that I believe this ship and her crew will be put in danger if I do not act."

"Spock, I swear, if you do it...."

There was a silence within the bridge. Spock lent his gaze to Phiora, who had just spoken. So did Kirk. Everyone else had their eyes on both of them...a back-and-forth movement as if the moment one of them looked away something would happen and they'd miss it. The emotion in Spock's eyes caused Phiora's chest to tighten.

"You will do what?" Spock said evenly. "If your intention is to inform me that if I go through with this you will end your relationship with me, I must remind you that if something happens—"

"Spock."

It was Jim. He had his eyes trained on his First Officer and a solemn expression on his face.

"Captain."

"Do us all a favor," he vaguely motioned to everyone watching them, "and don't force us to have that particular conversation. Especially don't force your girlfriend."

Spock gave a little start, as if he just remembered they were not alone on the bridge and he gave away too much information. He closed his eyes, turned his face to Phiora, and opened them.

"There is no other way," he said to Jim, but his eyes never left Phiora.

Right then the voice filled the room. "You have had. Quite enough time. Spock. Are you prepared to board?"

With a reluctant gesture from Kirk, Uhura just as reluctantly un-muted the frequency on which the AK47...leader was waiting. The captain cleared his throat.

"Will you return Spock in perfect health?"

"Yes."

Nobody was convinced. But Spock was right. There was no other way.

"I will be transported shortly," the half-Vulcan clipped, removing his hands from behind his back.

"Very well."

Uhura told Kirk the line was closed, and Spock turned to the turbolift, Jim and Phiora in tow. The minute the doors shut around them and the destination was voiced, Kirk observed the two as they stared each other down, and realized almost irately that Spock's face was unwavering while Phiora's conveyed anger, pain...and a hint of betrayal.

He suddenly wondered if they remembered he was in the lift with them.

"Why don't you just break my neck, Vulcan?" Phiora spat unmercifully, the tears evident in her voice.

"Killing you would be illogical, for I have grown accustomed to your presence and would suffer greatly if it were to be taken from me."

"But you're doing that to me by going."

Shit. Jim knew immediately where this was going, and he suddenly wished he hadn't followed them onto the turbolift. But, as captain—and a friend—he had to see his First Officer off safely, which made him understand why this scene was playing out directly in front of him. There would be no time for the couple to talk alone before Spock's departure, and they trusted him enough that he wouldn't interfere or destroy the confidentiality between them.

Spock clenched his fists at his sides and kept his focus on Phiora. "I have no choice," he said solidly.

"Yes you do!" Phiora exploded abruptly, her fists connecting with Spock's chest. "You're choosing to devastate me!" She thumped her fists against him again. "They're going to kill you—" Thud. "—and I'll never see you again—" Thud. "—and you would have walked right into it!!"

She raised her fists again but a whir of blue, Spock grabbed her wrists and held them still. His face was calm. The rest of him was obviously calm. But those goddamned eyes of his....

"You are being irrational," he whispered, and Jim found himself agreeing on some level. As heavy as some of Phiora's emotions could get, this was definitely out of character. She had broken things during her emotional torrents over her mother, but she'd never attempted to break a person.

But then she collapsed, still being restrained by Spock. He quickly grabbed hold of her and held her up.

"I'll call Bones," the captain said, reaching for the com. He halted when Spock placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"She does not require medical attention," he said simply. "She is still conscious."

A quick glance told Jim the man was right. He also noticed how sentimental the situation seemed to become. He politely yet subtly turned away.

The lift stopped and the doors opened a few seconds later, and Jim was suddenly very aware of how uncomfortable he was, so he gunned it out of there and waited in the transporter room. He was greeted to a technician informing him that Uhura relayed the situation to them and the coordinates were obtained.

Spock entered the room not too long afterwards. He was alone.

"Where's—"

"Her words were 'I need to get away from this'," Spock answered promptly. "She returned to the bridge."

Jim scowled. "You mean she's not going to say goodbye?" After almost punching holes into your chest?

"Jim." Spock positioned himself on the transporter pad, his voice curiously assuring. "It is illogical to say goodbye if no one plans to leave."

And with a quiet "Energize," he was gone.