You guys... you're hilarious. I loved the reviews and I hate to tell you Mal/Jim shippers this...but it ain't happening, you silly things. Best review goes to Fritzlerkiss who made my day with three small words. Enjoy the chapter, guys! -Ace
Star Trek is property of its respective owners. I only own Mallory.
34
"I spy with my little eye…"
"Jim if you don't shut up, I'm going to strangle you." Their whispers were the only sound in the dark hall aside from their quiet footfalls.
"…something bitchy."
Jim grinned at Mal and didn't miss the flutter of annoyance that passed over her face. "Please, Jim. Let's just play the 'quiet game'." Mal did her best to keep her unruly captain under some sort of control but, short of taking off her shirt, there was no way to rein him in. "Dammit, Jim!" Mal hissed grabbing his arm. "Settle." After all, they were still on an enemy ship, surrounded by physically superior, emotionally unstable, beings that possessed advanced weaponry and future knowledge. Being loud and disruptive seemed like a good way to get themselves blown to hell.
That would not be ideal.
But Jim couldn't help it. He was just so relieved that they were both alright… well, alright-ish. Every inch of him ached and throbbed along with the rhythm of his heartbeat, and Mal had certainly seen better days. One thing was painfully obvious. Bones was going to bust a blood vessel when he saw the state they were… the state she was in.
Jim surreptitiously glanced at Mal in his peripheral vision and grimaced. Her skin had taken on a pallid, unhealthy color that only made the twisted black design on the side of her face stand out all the more. Sweat, or maybe tears, had traced small trails through the dried blood and grit and on her cheeks. Thankfully the head wound had stopped bleeding freely and was only dripping sluggishly if she happened to make too grand an expression. Jim couldn't help but eye the ugly lump of bone that was damn near sticking out of the skin near her throat, and the unnatural twist to her shoulder.
As gruesome as all that was, it was her eyes that concerned Jim most.
They were still a dangerous, burning black. Normally, they would have returned to their usual dazzling blue, but this time they continued to smolder, darker than any set of lamps had a right to be while all the while lit from with in.
Jim wouldn't blame Bones if he did have an aneurism. That someone could look at Mal and want to hurt her was unbearable. That Ayel had tortured her… Jim growled and Mal cast him a curious look.
"Alright, Jim?" She asked cautiously. His giddy, energetic bouncing had stopped, replaced by a serious face and a furious ribbon of pulsing red. Mal slipped a thread around Jim and wrapped him in happier feelings. His anger was about her, she could tell, but not exactly directed at her. She would have questioned him further, but she was serious about keeping their volume down. The last thing she wanted was to see another Romulan.
Ever.
"Yeah," he said, watching Mal walk on as though she wasn't in pain, and hadn't been brutalized. "Yeah, I'm fine."
It was only a few blissfully silent minutes later when Mal felt Jim blush and a hint of indecision passed through their link. He looked down the dark corridor they were in and than back the way they'd just come. Finally, he looked at Mal. "Alright, not to detract from my awesome manliness or anything, but I think we're lost."
Mal sighed. It figured. "So Captain James Kirk has no sense of direction?" she asked one of her eyebrows rising slowly. "What will Starfleet think?"
"They'll think… that's what we train navigators for," Jim responded with a quiet chuckle. "But unfortunately, I left Chekov on the ship along with my handy-dandy map. Maybe if we split up—"
"No!" Mal's response was immediate and she clutched at Jim's arm. "Maybe I could try to feel for Pop. I've never managed this with him at any distance, but I can try it." Her eyes and tone said more than her words did. Don't go. Clearly she wasn't quite over what had happened last time she'd gone off on her own. Jim stared at the swollen, angry skin around her left eye and felt his anger rile again.
Jim carefully pried her fingers from his arm so that the blood could go back to flowing freely. He kept hold of Mal's hand, her skin projecting just how shaken she was by the idea of splitting up. Jim ground his teeth. If that Romulan asshole wasn't already dead, he would have gone back and killed him then and there. "It's alright, Mal. It was just an option."
"It is not an option," Mal said forcefully. "I was… and you were nearly strangled to death. We stick together, James Kirk, you got that?"
He nodded solemnly and Mal relaxed again. "Well?" Jim looked down at Mal, his blue eyes dancing. "Can you feel Pike or are we screwed?"
Mal took a deep breath, steadied by the inexorable confidence and optimism she was leeching off of Jim, and cast about with her mind. Her black eyes darted back and forth as she mentally searched the Narada for her father. Jim watched, fascinated by the fire in her strange new eyes, until her small scowl turn up into an amused smile. "Got him," she said, sounding a little surprised. "I actually got him! This way."
They picked up their pace as they sunk into the bowels of the ship. Mal steered them toward the familiar, albeit fuzzy, mind that was her father. He was drugged, that much was obvious. The feel of his mind was off. It was slippery, somehow tainted. Something in his system was making him diluted and slow, but he was alive, thank the gods. Mal could have done a cartwheel, she was so happy. She would have, too, but her broken collarbone would have made the maneuver more than a little difficult.
Grinning at her success and her father's apparent survival, Mal winced when the smile tweaked the inflamed skin beneath the tattoo. Tentatively, she reached up and touched the cruel marks. "How bad is it?" she asked quietly. "On a scale of one to ten? One being a quirky birthmark and ten being wear a paper bag over my face for the rest of my life."
Jim snorted at her seeming nonchalance, but there was fear in her eyes. Before today he had never seen Mal afraid of anything. She was too laid back. Things just rolled off her back. She was a bit vindictive, but most of the time, Mal was drama-free and, more importantly, fearless. He hated the undercurrent of dread he could see while he searched her face.
He hated it.
"I think it makes you look badass," he blurted. Mal blinked at him before giving up on being stern and serious and crumpled into laughter. "What? I mean, you're all smooth and sweet and then you've got this badass tribal tat that puts an edge on you. I mean, Bones is going to go ballistic when he sees it, but it's only because of how you got it, not because it's disgusting or anything." Jim stared at the swirling black design that stood out against Mal's pale skin and he flinched. "Literally. We'll be scraping him off the walls. Maybe we should 'bag' you until he can get used to the idea."
Mal shoved her grinning friend into the wall without breaking stride. "Thanks so much, Jim. That's just what I needed to hear."
Jim sighed in relief at Mal's lifted spirits, smug that her ability to make him feel better wasn't completely one-sided. He wasn't empathetic, but he was her best friend, and it was his job to keep that smile on her face. "So," he said, bouncing back into step with her, "where's your—"
"Daddy!" Mal cut him off with a thankful cry and raced ahead of him.
Captain Christopher Pike felt like his head had been stuffed with fluff. It was that groggy sensation, that haze that reminded him of the place between sleep and consciousness… that split second of partial awareness before the alarm ruins a perfectly good dream. That's where he was.
Overall, it wasn't a bad feeling, but something kept nagging at him. He'd done something he wasn't supposed to do. What was it again? Codes? Codes to what? "Pssh," Pike muttered to himself. Codes... what a funny word.
Pike heard them before he saw them. At first it was just a giggle interrupting his disjointed thoughts. Then it was quiet footsteps approaching and he turned this way and that, trying to place the noise. Finally he could hear the definite sound of voices bickering with each other. Some part of his fuzzy consciousness recognized the voices and his temper rankled.
He really had to teach those kids how to shut up.
"Daddy!"
Two grinning faces appeared out of the gloom, relieved and anxious. Mal reached his side, sloshing through the grimy water that surrounded his table. "Tsk. Typical Starfleet Captain. Just sitting around while his flunkies do all the work," she ribbed him quietly. "Ought to be ashamed."
"What are you two doing here?" Pike demanded, more surprised by the rescue than who was performing it. Somehow he knew that if help was coming, it was coming in the form of his daughter. He should have realized that it would take a stronger man than Spock to keep his baby girl on that ship if it wasn't where she wanted to be.
Mal snorted. "Yeah, right like you aren't happy as hell to see us," she sassed.
Jim smirked and started in on the sturdy leather straps that were holding Pike down. "Just following orders." He winked at Pike, but the gesture went unseen.
Pike's eyes were glued to his daughter's face. "And taking in the culture, apparently." Mal quickly pulled her hair over the twisted design, effectively hiding it from his view. "What happened, Mallory?" The first strap came free, giving Pike back the use of his arms and he immediately brushed her hair back, to get a good look at what had been done to his daughter.
Mal dismissed his concern with a snort. "Don't sweat it, Pops. Romulans just don't like us," she said lightly, indicating Jim and herself. Her nose wrinkled as she took her father's hand away from her face and the curtain of hair once again covered her left eye. "Pop, what'd they give you? You're mind's all dopey."
Pike waved Mal away. Foggy or not, his brain was working to register his daughter's condition. His eyes took in the blood, the twisted shoulder, the broken clavicle... "Christ, Mallory, look at you."
Mal was about to retort in kind when Pike's attention went elsewhere. He lunged forward and ripped Ayel's disrupter from the holster on Jim's hip. With no hesitation he flicked up the barrel and fired clean through the Romulan that had been sneaking up on them.
"Damn, Pop," Mal said in awe. "You're like Billy Jack!" She pretended to blow gun smoke off her fingers as she moved to Jim's side. Together they slid Pike off the table and when he was hanging between them, supported by their more able bodies, Jim flipped open his communicator.
"Enterprise, now!"
Mal was once again embraced by the chilly tingle of power. The darkness of the Narada's interrogation room melted away, replaced by the bright, clean transporter room onboard the Enterprise.
"Scotty, I could kiss you!" Mal groaned with relief as she saw Spock beside Jim, apparently none the worse for wear.
Jim beamed at their brilliant engineer. "Nice timing, Scotty!"
Laughing, Scotty threw up his hands, delighted with himself and the praise. "I've never beamed four people from two different targets onto one pad a'fore!" he crowed.
A crowd of white and blue medical personnel stormed the transporter room, Leo at their head. "Jim!" he scolded when Jim nearly lost his hold on Pike. "I've got him."
There was no mistaking the way Leo's eyes went to Mal, nor the way Mal immediately ducked behind Jim, clearly intent on hiding her injuries. Leo was about to pass Pike off to one of the interns but Mal made a run for it, intent on accompanying Jim and Spock to the bridge.
"Oh, no you don't!" Leo made a move to catch her, but Jim caught Mal's good arm and shoved her out the door ahead of him.
"Not now," was all he said before he joined Mal and Spock in the hall. "We need her on the bridge."
"Take care of my Pop, cowboy!" Mal shouted behind her as the three of them ran. "He can't approve of you if he's laced out."
Growling about mouthy women and best friends that were as much trouble as good, Leo had little choice but to lead his medical team back down to deck five and make sure their captain would be alright.
"So it's going to be you, huh?" Pike asked through a groggy cloud. "Thank God it wasn't Kirk."
Leo smirked. "Just take it easy, sir. I'll get you sorted."
Pike made a dismissive sound. "Not worried, McCoy. Mallory always says you're the best." He didn't see the younger man turn red. The fog had turned into a vortex in his mind and everything was black.
"Captain ze enemy ship es losing pover. Zeir shields are doon, sir." Chekov looked up the moment the three officers came onto the bridge. His grey-blue eyes widened at the sight of their medical researcher where she stood at Jim's right, and he wasn't the only one. Mal had pulled her hair back again, and used her hands and some spit to get the worst of the bloody mess off her face. She'd abandoned the ruined waistcoat for the black, Starfleet issue tank top she had been wearing underneath.
She looked more like a spy now than ever, especially with that tribal brand swirling over her cheekbone and twisting its way down her neck.
"Hail them, now," Kirk's voice had a dangerous edge to it and Uhura hastened to obey.
The three figures stood tall and indomitable at the forefront of the bridge. Spock, cool and collected. Mal, fierce and protective. And Jim…
Jim was every bit a Starfleet captain. Proud, confident, and in control.
"This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise," he said smoothly, as though he and Nero had never met before. "Your ship is compromised. You're too close to the singularity to survive without assistance which we are willing to provide."
Spock turned suddenly, facing away from the screen and Mal mirrored the movement from Jim's other side. "Captain, what are you doing?" Spock asked, his voice betraying nothing.
Mal was positively quivering with rage, but she'd give Jim a chance to explain himself before she ripped his arm off and clubbed him to death with it.
"Showing them compassion might be the only way to earn peace with Romulus. It's logic, Spock, I thought you'd like that."
"No, not really. Not this time." Spock's answer was accompanied by the smallest frown.
"If we're voting here, I'm on Spock's side," Mal said through clenched teeth. Jim gave the smallest nod, his blue eyes dark.
Nero gave a humorless laugh, his eyes mean as he looked over his enemies. "I would rather suffer the end of Romulus a thousand times. I would rather die in agony than accept assistance from you."
Jim gave his patented shit-eating grin and stood tall. "You got it." He turned his back on Nero and claimed the captain's chair as Uhura cut the feed. "Arm phasers. Fire everything we've got."
Grim faced, Mal tugged something out of her pocket, flipping it to Spock. "Want to do the honors?" she asked as the weapons station hurried to obey Jim's orders.
Spock held up the small remote, looking it over carefully. "Am I correct in assuming you planted explosive devices around the enemy ship?"
"Hell, yes," Mal said with a smile.
Spock popped the lid up, his thumb hovering over the button. "For our parents," he said quietly. Mal and Jim straightened a bit at his fitting dedication. Spock's mother, Jim's father, Captain Pike's torture... This was for all the hurt Nero had caused. Spock's thumb dropped pressure onto the igniter and Nero's ship started to light up the darkness of space, the fires going out as quickly as they started the moment they hit the dark vacuum, but it was oddly gratifying as the ship was hobbled. Enterprise began to fire on the broken Narada, pushing it further into the black hole that Spock had created by manning the Jellyfish straight into the shuttle bay.
They were all of them silent a moment, watching the massive ship that had changed all their lives break apart and disintegrate before their eyes.
"Sulu, let's go home!" Jim shouted when the ship's systems started to blare their protest.
"Yes, sir!" Sulu immediately complied, turning the ship around.
After a tense moment, the bridge crew began to look at one another, confused. They weren't going anywhere.
Jim's knuckles turned white as he gripped his arm rests. "Why aren't we at warp?"
"Ve are, sir!" Chekov had to shout over the piercing alerts.
Cursing, Jim hit a button on the chair. "Kirk to engineering. Get us out of here, Scotty!"
Ye bet yer ass, Cap'n!
The ship began to scream as its frame was slowly being crushed and Mal closed her eyes forcing the panicked minds she could sense back into a state of determined awareness so they could do their jobs and do them well.
Cap'n, we're caught in a gravity-well. It's got us!
"Go to maximum warp," Jim ordered immediately. "Push it!"
Mal could feel Scotty's frustration, even from her place on the bridge. "Spock?" Mal could help Scotty, she knew that she could, but she wasn't sure she could do it alone. She needed a kick start, and the only other telepath on the bridge was the Vulcan.
"You require assistance?" Mal nodded and Spock placed a hand at the back of her neck. He didn't even complain about the contact.
"Anchor me." Mal gave the order and Spock nodded. Immediately, she mentally checked out of herself and dropped her mind down through the decks so she could more directly affect their last hope of survival. She'd done this sort of maneuver before with Kadence when they emulated each other, but Mal wasn't seeking the sanctuary of another mind this time. She simply wanted to get closer and this was the fastest way to do it.
She was a little surprised when it worked.
"I'm giving it all she's got, Cap'n!" Scotty ran through engineering, checking levels and tweaking machinery as he went, ransacking his brain for something, anything, he could do to keep the ship from going down.
Mal had to give him credit. Scotty wasn't panicking. His brain was just moving too fast for him to process. He had ideas, but he wasn't sure which ones would save them and which ones would blow them all to that great, white pub in the sky.
All she's got isn't good enough. What else you got? Jim demanded.
Easily, Mal slid a thread around Scotty. Breathe, she told the engineer gently. Just breathe.
Hands at his temples, but still more concerned about his ship than his sanity, Scotty obeyed. "If…If we eject the core and detonate the blast should be enough to push us away. I cannae promise anything, though."
Do it! Do it! Do it! The frantic cries were being echoed all over the ship, as people struggled to panic and Mal lost control of the more jumpy souls onboard.
Spock's hand tightened ever so slightly and Mal was aware that her body was on the floor of the bridge. Her mind stayed firmly with Scotty, however. He needed her more than the bridge did.
The engineer tore through the subdeck, chasing out any other red clad person he came across. "Clear the area! Go!" Fingers flying over one of the on-deck computers, Scotty started to key in the ejection sequence. How the hell was he supposed to detonate the cores?
Mal pushed serenity through their link. The 'wee bomb' I gave you, Scotty. Pinch it. Throw it. And run.
Scotty gave his head a small shake but stuck his hand into his pocket, pulling out the small metal tag that was no bigger than an old fashioned half-dollar. "I hope yer right about this." Pinching the detonator between his fingers, it let out a small chirp. He flung it among the engine cores and hit the screen, launching the cores, and the detonator, out into the singularity.
Nicely done, Scotty.
"Aye," he told the voice in his head as he stuck a finger in his ear, giving it a good jostle. "Let's hope it worked." He took off running out of the engine room.
Spock was kneeling on the ground, hovering over the crumpled body of Mallory Pike. He was supposed to be anchoring her, keeping her mind from slipping too far, but Mal was dangerously close to that point of no return. She had no discipline and she was going to kill herself if she didn't start to learn her limits.
Return at once. There was actual annoyance in his tone and Mal heeded his words drifting slowly back up to the bridge even as a blinding white light poured into the bridge and the Enterprise was spit out of the gravity-well.
Mal opened her eyes slowly and stared up at the Vulcan, the bright, blue orbs back to their dazzling selves. "How'd we do?"
The corner of Spock's mouth twitched. "Satisfactory, Doctor."
They got back to their feet and moved to stand beside Jim's chair, one on either side.
The bridge crew all turned to look at their captain, some faces showing shock, others were awed. Jim only cared about the opinions of his two companions. Spock's expression was blank, as usual, but there was respect in his eyes. Friendship. He didn't have to look at Mal to know what she was feeling. She was projecting pride and affection as clearly as if she had announced it ship-wide.
Jim took a deep, steadying breath. "Set course for home," he ordered.
They were going home.
Reviews are love...
I don't know why, but this was heavy for me to write for some reason. Whew! Alright, Bones and Eddy in the next chapter, possibly a little Adam Price, and the Enterprise goes home! -Ace