Kirk was hiding something.
Nyota had seen the signs before. Back at the Academy, whenever the future captain had a major prank up his sleeve, he would become flighty; disappear for days at a time.
That was far more difficult to do, now that Kirk commanded a starship...but he was still giving it a shot. For the past few days, any time the captain was on duty, but not needed on the bridge, he either slipped into his office, or down to the medbay.
...Part of Nyota wondered if he might be sick...really sick.
The communications Kirk and Doctor M'Benga had her setting up the past few days had done nothing to ease that suspicion: surgeons, and geneticists, and multiple calls to Ambassador Spock...
It was getting hard not to speculate, and the fact that, as far as her Spock claimed, the captain hadn't even told him what was happening...well...that couldn't be a good sign.
The lieutenant sighed; adjusted her earpiece; listened for incoming signals.
Maybe Kirk was just stir–crazy. Waiting for the Shenzhou to show up at Starbase Eleven with the rest of the Augments had been...dull; they were all getting a bit impatient.
Doctor Chapel had snapped at Chekov during dinner the night before...and whatever had happened there clearly hadn't been talked out yet. Not if the snippets of conversation she kept overhearing between Chekov and Sulu were any indication.
Scotty had spent the past few days in an uncharacteristically sour mood. He claimed he was just stressed about how much they had worked the warp drive in the last couple months...but of–duty, he seemed to be drinking a lot more than usual...
...Even Doctor M'Benga seemed...distracted...during their last session. But if something really was going on with Kirk...
Maybe now that the Shenzhou had arrived, and the Augment transfers were nearly complete, morale would improve. At least they wouldn't be standing still much longer...
"Commander Spock," Sulu called out from the front of the bridge. "There's a ship coming out of warp. I don't recognize the energy signature."
Nyota looked up from her station; frowned. There were only a few ships in Federation space that didn't have easily recognizable energy signatures; most of them belonged to small merchant vessels from across the Quadrant. But the part of space they were in didn't have trading outposts; there was no reason for one of those ships to be in the vicinity.
Spock rose from his position in the command chair. "Thank you, Lieutenant Sulu. Onscreen."
Nyota accessed Sulu's helm data on the estimated location that the unidentified ship would drop out of warp; put the region on the viewscreen just as a vessel that vaguely resembled a horseshoe crab entered the system.
...It definitely was not a species she recognized.
A light flashed on Nyota's console. "Commander Spock, the USS Shenzhou is hailing us."
Spock nodded. "Onscreen."
The communications officer patched the other ship in; Captain Georgeau's kind face popped onto the viewscreen.
"Commander Spock," Georgiou smiled. "How is Sarek's youngest doing today?"
"I am well, thank you," Spock replied. "If you would like to talk to Captain Kirk, he is in the medbay, overseeing the relocation of our Augment...guests. I can hail him, if––"
"No, that will not be necessary," Captain Georgiou sighed. "I just wanted to ensure you detected our...pest."
Spock's head tilted. "If you are referring to the warp–capable ship that just entered the system, then yes, we have. Although I believe it is a little early to classify them as...pests."
"Trust me: it's the best word for it," Georgiou shook her head. "That ship came out of warp as we were picking up a group of Augments near the Klingon Neutral Zone. They repeatedly hailed us, then cut off the signal the moment we established visual communications. Then when we tried to hail them back, they ignored us and left...or so I thought. They showed up at our last two drop locations, and repeated their pattern of attempting to hail us, getting angry when we made visual communication, and leaving. Given the sensitivity of our mission, I attempted to lose them by passing through an ionized nebula...but now I suspect they've somehow been following our warp signature."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe they are dangerous?"
Georgiou shook her head. "It's hard to tell. They never charged their weapons, but they didn't seem interested in talking to us either. I think we insulted them somehow, but since they wouldn't respond to our hails, we couldn't figure out what happened."
The comm panel beeped; Nyota read the incoming data.
"Commander, the alien ship is hailing us. Do you want me to open a channel?"
"Not yet, Lieutenant," Spock pressed the internal comm button. "Spock to Captain Kirk."
After a moment, the captain's stressed voice came through the speaker.
"...Kirk here. What do you need, Spock?"
"Captain, it appears an unidentified species is hailing us. This may be a First Contact situation. We need you on the bridge as soon as possible."
"...Right. I'll be up in a few minutes. Go ahead and make contact without me."
Spock's head tilted. "Captain, are you sure that is appropriate? They may take offense to––"
"And they might also take offense to waiting around. It's always a gamble, Spock. You've got this. Kirk out."
The first officer turned back to the viewscreen. "Captain Georgiou, as we do not know what caused this vessel to cease communications with your ship the first time, it may be logical for your ship to––"
"You sound just like Captain Burnham," Georgiou smiled ruefully. "Don't worry: we're headed out. If they turn out to be hostile, call us back immediately...but hopefully you won't have to."
"Thank you, Captain," Spock nodded. "We will inform you of what we find."
"Good to hear. Georgiou out."
The Shenzhou's bridge disappeared; the viewscreen once again showed the alien vessel.
"Lieutenant Uhura," Spock sat in the Command chair. "Are they still hailing us?"
"Nyota checked; nodded. "Yes, Commander."
"Good. Onscreen."
As the lieutenant established the comm link, she couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. First Contacts didn't happen every day, and this was a new, warp–capable species. There was no telling what their history was; what linguistic roots––if any––they shared with other species; what new perspectives they might have to...
Nyota blinked.
...Those were some of the biggest ears she had ever seen.
Two aliens looked back at them through the viewscreen. One appeared far smaller than the other, but they were clearly the same species: enormous, multi–lobed ears; orange skin; deep set eyes.
...They definitely weren't part of the Federation, or a species the Federation ever traded with on a regular basis…but for some reason...they looked familiar.
The small alien sat in a low, seemingly wooden chair, playing with what looked like an action figure. The alien was making the toy "fly" through the air, accompanied by whooshing noises.
Nyota smiled. It looked like this was come kind of family ship; that this new culture brought their children into space with them on a regular basis. It was kind of sweet...if a bit dangerous.
The larger alien was seated in a much higher...and more ornate...chair that appeared to be made out of precious metals. He squinted at the screen; then bared his pointed teeth; curled his hands into a heart shape.
"Russsssha teeeelic! Moooork ssssooptptpt meeeeensssum."
Nyota grimaced.
Usually, they tried to have a grasp of an alien's language before officially making contact...but that wasn't always an option. And if they didn't even have the basic roots to work with, the translation algorithm could take upwards of half an hour of back and forth communication to function properly…if it decided to function at all…
"Alien vessel," Nyota said into her comm panel. "This is the Federation Starship Enterprise. If you can understand what I am saying, please turn the toy upside down."
The smaller alien tilted its head. "Seeeahlump zzzzpohhaaaashhh?"
"Proooooofffffffttttt!" The taller one hissed. "Shiiiiiiiiiishhhhh Qeeeeeesssss."
"Seeeahlump zzoah!" The small one hissed back; deliberately turned the action figure upside down.
...The tall one did what looked suspiciously like a facepalm.
"Lieutenant?" Spock didn't finish the obvious question.
Nyota shook her head. "It looks like they can understand us, Commander...but they don't have their communicator set for two–way translations. I'm unsure why…"
...Why did something about those hisses sound...familiar…
She couldn't name their species, but Nyota swore she recognized them. Those ears; the divot in the middle of their skulls; even the little toy gun in the action figure's...
...Wait.
There was a bright blue object in the action figure's other hand. It looked like...
"The pirates," Nyota whispered.
Spock turned to her; raised an eyebrow.
"Lieutenant?"
"I recognize the species," Nyota explained.
Hendorff looked over at her from his position at tactical; frowned. "You do?"
She nodded; turned to her console. "They match the general description of a group of pirates the Enterprise NX–01 dealt with a hundred years ago. I'm looking up the file now."
Proto–Federation history hadn't been one of Nyota's favorite courses at the Academy...but the number of times memorizing that ship's alien encounters had paid off during their mission more than made up for an entire year of Professor Finney's uninspiring, monotone voice.
The lieutenant smirked as she found the archived incident report. Where were photographs of the species currently hissing at them: large, lobed ears, pointed teeth...and what the records described as a 'plasma whip' that was the same bright blue as the child's toy.
Even more useful, there were a handful of translated snippets of their language. They were rough, but they would work.
Nyota uploaded them to the translation matrix; reran the algorithm.
"Mooosssssseeeeee sssssshhhheeeeppppp!"
"Do you have an estimate of how much longer this will take?" Spock asked. "They are beginning to appear...irate."
"Give it a minute." Nyota assured him. "It's almost done..."
"I can have phasers on them with the press of a button," Hendorff reminded them.
"Negative," Spock ordered. "This is a diplomatic event, Lieutenant, not a confrontation."
...Hopefully.
Nyota checked the algorithm's progress. It wouldn't take much longer...as long as whatever species this was didn't use multiple languages with completely different syntaxical roots...
Finally, the hisses and growls turned into Standard.
"––Pose a transaction to profit your Federation of Planets."
Nyota frowned.
...If a potentially hostile species that hadn't come to their part of space in a century was trying to contact them, then it had to be important. Not just some...business deal.
The translation had to be way off.
"Commander Spock, permission to approach the monitor?"
Her boyfriend's eyebrow twitched upwards.
"Granted."
Nyota stepped into range of the viewscreen; focused on the alien that appeared to be the leader.
"This is Lieutenant Nyota Uhura of the Federation Starship Enterprise. We are having difficulties translating your language. Please repeat your––"
"Oh, Grand Nagus save us!" The larger alien exclaimed. "Not another Female!"
Nyota blinked. "Excuse me?"
"My sources said the Enterprise was captained by a Male Hue–mon." The alien's lips curled back to reveal a row of jagged teeth. "Where is he?"
"Our captain is on his way to the bridge," Spock raised his hand in a Vulcan salute. "I am Commander Spock, First Officer of the Federation Starship Enterprise. On behalf of the Federation, I would like to welcome––"
"Why was that Female addressing me? Does your species allow Females to disrespect their betters like that?"
Spock's eyebrows arched violently. He slowly lowered his hand.
"...Our people do not discriminate based upon gender or sex. Lieutenant Uhura is our communications officer; she is simply performing her duties, and ensuring that our translator is functioning properly."
"Oh…" The alien gave Spock an odd look; then turned back to her with a pointy grin. "Well, it's working fine, dear. Now run along, and let the Males get on with things."
...So this was why Captain Georgiou hadn't been able to establish communications.
"Commander Spock," Nyota kept her eyes locked on the viewscreen. "It looks like the translation algorithm is functioning perfectly."
...Although its benefits were up for debate.
"Thank you Lieutenant," Spock said evenly. "As always, your work is impeccable."
She nodded; crossed back to her station.
"Ooh, that's quite high praise!" The alien winked at her. "Good for you, dear: no shame in sleeping your way to the top!"
Nyota tensed. She heard Chekov give an outraged huff; Sulu glanced back at her; gave her a look of support...and Hendorff looked ready to shoot something.
...This was one of the things that had worried both Spock and herself when they started dating. Even though she was at the top of her field; had intercepted and translated communications that helped save the Federation...people could still take her relationship with Spock to mean that she didn't deserve to be on the Enterprise; that she'd…
That was why, after Nero's attack changed her assignment on the Enterprise from temporary to permanent, they'd gone through all the proper channels; ensured that Spock didn't have any control over her promotion status, or what projects she was allowed to work on, or...pretty much anything that could create an unfair power balance in their relationship.
Not that Spock would ever take advantage of his position like that...but putting it all down on paper meant they could both stay on the Enterprise.
...Still, incidents like this made them both uncomfortable.
"Any interpersonal...associations...on our vessel are none of your concern." Spock's voice was clipped. "You have yet to identify yourself, or state your reasons for contacting our ship. Please do so promptly."
"I'd prefer to do business with your boss," the alien picked at a blue fingernail. "How much longer is he going to be?"
The half–Vulcan tilted his head. "As I said before, the captain is on his way. He should be here any––"
The turbolift door hissed open; Kirk finally stepped onto the bridge. There were dark circles under his eyes...but he'd managed to plaster on a smile.
"How's First Contact going, Spock?"
The first officer turned; gestured for the captain to take his chair.
"Our new...acquaintance...has reminded me of the Vulcan principle of Kol–Ut–Shan...and the necessity of Surak's teachings in my conduct."
Nyota suppressed a smirk. Kirk knew enough Vulcan to understand that Spock was trying to tell him the captain of the other ship was an infuriating ass with very alien cultural attitudes.
Her captain raised a surprised eyebrow; his smile almost broke.
"...I see." Kirk flopped into his chair; grinned at the alien on the viewscreen. "Greetings! My name is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Who do I have the honor of speaking to?"
"At last, the boss!" The alien curled his hands into a heart shape again. "Hello, Captain James T. Kirk. My name is Mork, and I am a merchant from the planet Ferenginar. This is my son and apprentice, Zek. "
The little alien put his toy in his lap; repeated his father's gesture.
"I apologize if the translator issue offended you: our people have run into many hostile species, and you would be surprised how many of them reveal their plans to attack our ship in the minutes when they believe they cannot be understood."
...Well, that was a reasonable explanation...if an annoying one. But Hendorff had actually brought up the option...
"I hope we didn't give you a reason to think we're dangerous," Kirk said soberly.
"Oh no," Mork's lobes flopped as he shook his head. "Your employees have been nothing but accommodating, even if your...communications officer...is a bit unconventional."
...Really?
Nota's jaw clenched; she let out a long breath.
Spock must have heard the sigh: he turned to her; gave her a concerned head tilt.
She shook her head. This wasn't the time...
Oblivious to what was going on behind him, Kirk tilted his head as well.
"What's 'unconventional' about Uhura?"
"You've got a Female working for you," Mork jabbed a thumb in her direction. "It is strange for me to see one on the bridge of a ship; especially one wearing clothes...but given that that other Federation vessel appeared to be captained by one, I gather it's normal in your society?"
"...Yeah…" Her friend sounded stunned. "...Very normal."
"Huh." The alien blinked; shook his head. "Well, it's not like it's been illegal everywhere we've done business in the past. And The Rules technically only apply to our Females anyway."
Kirk leaned forward. "I'm sorry...what rules?"
"The Rules of Acquisition," Mork said reverently. "My people's guiding principles in both business and everyday life. Rule 94 clearly states: 'Females and finances don't mix.'"
The Ferengi shrugged, as if that settled the matter.
"...I see." From Nyota's angle, Kirk seemed to be gnawing the inside of his cheek. "Well, our society has no such...rules. In the Federation, Fe...um...women...share all the same rights and opportunities as men."
"Well that's...interesting," Mork waved a hand dismissively. "But I am in your territory, so who am I to judge? "
...Who indeed.
"...Look, Captain Mork," Kirk sighed. "I hate to appear rude, but our vessel is on a time–sensitive assignment. If you would like permission to trade in Federation space, I can connect you with the Base Commander of the facility below us––"
"Oh, no!" The Ferengi interrupted. "What I have to offer is something I believe your vessel in particular will be interested in. Something straight from the heart of the Klingon Neutral Zone."
The captain stiffened; glanced over at Spock, who displayed his surprise with a highly angled eyebrow.
"...And what exactly was your ship doing in restricted space?".
"Rule 9: 'Opportunity plus instinct equals profit,'" The Ferengi recited. "There's tons of raw resources in that Neutral Zone of yours. Resources entrepreneurs can tap into...if they keep careful track of Klingon border patrols. You should be grateful that I took that risk!"
"Really?" Kirk did not sound convinced. "And why exactly is that?"
Mork grinned. "Because several days ago, I intercepted a message claiming to be from a kidnapped member of your crew."
The entire bridge froze.
...Had Nyota heard what she thought she'd...
"...What," Kirk croaked; took a deep breath... "...What are you talking about?"
"A distress call from a Hue–mon doctor," the Ferengi explained. "We were lucky to intercept it: it only went out a handful of times before someone turned it off."
"Did you pinpoint the origins of the signal?" Spock pressed.
The merchant shrugged. "Within a few light years. We didn't want to get too close."
"And why is that?" Kirk growled.
"Because a signal like that is a Klingon magn..." Mork froze. "...The message mentions a dangerous Hue–mon terrorist. I would never take that risk with my son onboard."
...So odds were high that the Klingons had…
Please, let them have missed the signal.
"Okay," Kirk nodded. "I can understand wanting to keep your family safe. Now, do you have a copy of this message?"
"What, you think I came all this way for fun?" The alien scoffed. "Here, let me play you a sample..."
Mork tapped something into a control panel...and the viewscreen suddenly displayed the...battered face...of a friend Nyota thought she'd never see again.
"Oh god..." Kirk gasped. "...What's he done to you?"
Nyota swallowed a lump in her throat; silently asked herself the same question.
Leonard was a mess.
His right eye...and...pretty much all of the right side of his face...was a swollen mass of bruised tissue. There were clear, half–dried tear tracks running down the doctor's cheeks; what Nyota could see of her friend's rumpled black t–shirt looked drenched in sweat…
...But he was alive. And Khan was nowhere in sight.
"This is Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief…" He hesitated; shook his head. "Former Chief Medical Officer of the Federation Starship Enterprise. To any and all ships that can hear this, I am requesting emergency––"
The recording paused; Captain Mork's lobe–framed face once again filled the viewscreen.
Kirk spun to Nyota, mouth agape.
"What happened?!"
She quickly checked her station; couldn't find a reason for the transmission to have…
'...A sample...'
...That...little k'pekt!
Nyota glared at the Ferengi. "It wasn't anything on our end, Captain: Mork cut off the transmission. He wants us to buy the rest."
The child sitting next to Mork grinned. "She's got lobes! I like her!"
"No you don't!" Mork snapped. "She wears clothes and speaks to strangers, Zek! That's not how a Female is supposed to behave!"
"Why?"
"Because!"
"But why?"
"Because it's...It's just the way it is! Go help Rem with inventory."
"But you were going to teach me––"
"NOW!"
Zek slumped; shuffled over to the door...then paused, pointed his action figure's toy gun at the back of Mork's chair, mouthed what looked suspiciously like 'Pew! Pew!' and hurried out.
...Nyota liked that kid. There was hope for him.
His father, on the other hand...
"You people give your Females far too many liberties" Mork growled. "Honestly, how do you put up with her constant disrupt––"
"Lieutenant Uhura's right, isn't she?" Kirk's tone had a dangerous edge to it. "You want us to purchase the rest of that distress signal, don't you?"
"Of course I do!" Mork exclaimed. "Rule 118: 'Only a fool passes up a business opportunity.' If I gave you the entire recording for free, I'd be the laughingstock of Ferenginar!"
"Well, we couldn't have that," Kirk bit sarcastically.
"I knew you'd understand." The Ferengi...purred. "Now, are you willing to do business?"
The Captain's smile was anything but friendly...but Nyota knew what his answer would be.
After all, what choice did they have?
It was Leonard.
"...Fine. What do you want for the rest of it?"
The merchant leaned forward. "What do you have?"
"Our vessel typically does not conduct trade operations," Spock stepped in before Jim could speak. "However, we do have a supply of rare elements and compounds set aside for instances in which bartering becomes necessary. What does your species typically use for currency?"
The Ferengi shrugged. "Well, dilithium is always acceptable...however my people prefer to trade in a substance called latinum."
"Latinum?" Kirk repeated. "What's latinum?"
"A rare liquid metal found in certain crystal deposits and nebulae," Mork explained. "It looks a lot like mercury, however its atomic structure is far more complex. So complex, even transporters cannot reconfigure its patterns properly. It can only be transported physically, or it breaks down. Do you have anything like that?"
"I believe we do," Spock confirmed. "We discovered a modest deposit in a nebulae seven months ago, and one of our research teams has been attempting to put it to practical use. I estimate we could part with up to one hundred milliliters of the substance without compromising their work."
Mork went rigid; his lobes began to twitch.
"Did...did you say...one hundred milliliters of liquid latinum?"
The half–Vulcan nodded. "Is that a sufficient amount to purchase the recording?"
The Ferengi scrambled to pick up what Nyota could only assume was a PADD; began tapping frantically.
"Well, let's see: there's the basic transaction fee, and compensation for travel expenses, and for the dangers of traveling near Klingon space, and the bribe for my source on Federation culture...even if he neglected to mention a few things...and––Oh! We cannot forget the docking fee!"
"Docking fee?"
"In case your shuttle scuffs up the floor of my docking bay while delivering the payment," Mork explained. "It's a standard addition."
"Ah." Kirk said flatly. "Of course."
"That just leaves the negotiation surcharge, and the finder's fee...and...I believe I can sell you this recording for fifty milliliters of liquid latinum."
...Nyota had a feeling that price was more than steep, but without any idea of what latinum went for in Ferengi markets, there was no way to know for certain.
Not that it really mattered. They'd pay in buckets of the stuff, if that's what it took.
"Alright," Kirk nodded. "We accept."
"Fantastic!" The Ferengi looked up from his PADD with a smile. "But before we conclude our business, would you like to upgrade your purchase to include the data we collected on the source of that transmission? I assure you, it will make the recording far more useful."
"...You're kidding, right?"
Mork shook his head. "Rule 12: 'Anything worth selling is worth selling twice.' It's a standard Ferengi business practice."
Kirk's fingers dug into his armrests. "Would you mind...selling...us a file of this rule book as well? Our people would...love...to learn more about your society."
"Well, the Rules of Acquisition are typically only sold among Ferengis...however, for the sake of diplomatic relations, if we round your total up to the full...hundred milliliters...of liquid latinum you have available for trade, I can include it in the transaction."
"So for one hundred milliliters of liquid latinum, we get the recording, the coordinates, and the Rules of Acquisition?" Kirk clarified.
The Ferengi's lobes shivered. "That seems more than generous, don't you think?"
"...If you say so," Kirk nodded. "I will have the latinum put onto a shuttle and sent over...as soon as you send us the full recording."
Mork frowned. "Now, wait a minute: you get the product after I receive my payment. That's how this works."
The captain shook his head. "I'm not about to have you fly off without giving us that distress signal. You will be paid once––"
"Are you questioning by word as a businessman?" The Ferengi glared. "I'll have you know––"
"The information you possess could save countless lives," Spock interjected. "And as we have never traded with you before, would it not be logical for you to send us a portion of our purchase before payment...and hold onto the rest until after you receive your latinum? To prove the trustworthiness of both sides."
Mork's hesitated...then smiled again. "That seems fair. As soon as your shuttle launches, I will give you the recording...but you don't get the coordinates and book until after I verify the payment."
"Works for me," Kirk agreed.
"Great! I will contact you again once payment has been received and authenticated. Goodbye."
The channel cut out.
Captain Kirk swiveled to face his security officer at the back of the room; let his fake smile fall away.
"...Lieutenant Hendorff?"
Hendorff grimaced. "You want me to deliver the latinum?"
"If you would please. Take Ensigns Hatfield and Twain with you…and keep your phasers handy. We still don't know if we can trust this guy."
"Definitely not, Captain," Hendorff agreed; vanished into the turbolift.
Kirk rubbed his face in his hands; let out a long breath.
"...Well, this is the single most stressful First Contact I've ever had to deal with...and I've almost been sacrificed to a god!"
"The fertility statue on Yosea Prime was not a god," Spock reminded him. "It was a replica of their species'––"
"Yeah, I know," the captain pinched the bridge of his nose. "Didn't stop them from tying me to it and throwing knives at me...but that's not really the point."
"We are just fortunate that we had something he wanted," Spock said. "Although I am curious to know what the actual exchange rate for latinum is in Ferengi society."
Kirk laughed dryly. "Yeah...though from Mork's reaction, I think we paid waaay more than he expected us to...but didn't we collect a liter of that latinum stuff from the nebula?"
"Two–point–eight liters, Captain."
"I see...and how much has the research team used?"
"Ten milliliters," Spock replied. "And most of that was the result of experiments in transporting the substance. The team is quite efficient."
Nyota suppressed a laugh.
Federation officers might not have many opportunities to barter...but her boyfriend was definitely good at it.
"Well, at least we've got something to trade if we ever encounter the Ferengi again," Kirk cringed. "Although if they all share that jackass' worldview, I might just have to retire early!"
"...Indeed," Spock turned to Nyota, concern barely concealed behind his Vulcan mannerisms. "Lieutenant Uhura, I apologise. Had I objected to Captain Mork's inappropriate comments earlier––"
"It wasn't your fault, Spock," she said. "Our directives say we have to be...polite...to the alien cultures we meet, especially in a First Contact context. There's no telling what would have happened if we'd challenged his comments directly."
Spock's face relaxed slightly; he gave a small nodd. "It will be...fascinating...to see how the Federation's relationship with the Ferengi develops, when our societies appear to have such contrasting perspectives."
A light flashed on Nyota's station. Hendorff was already at the shuttle; she patched them through.
"Hendorff to Enterprise: we're ready to go."
The captain pressed the comm button. "Godspeed, Lieutenant. Come back in one piece, okay?"
"Yes, sir. We'll be back soon."
Kirk closed his eyes; sighed; then plastered on his fake smile; swiveled to face the viewscreen.
"...Uhura, please hail that misogynistic prick."
Nyota smirked. "Yes, Captain."
She contacted Mork's ship; the Ferengi flicked back onto the viewscreen.
"Is my latinum on its way?"
"It is," Kirk confirmed. "And our distress signal?"
"Of course," The Ferengi purred. "I hope you find it useful."
The alien's transmission cut out; a file popped up on Nyota's console.
"I've got it," she reported. "It looks like it's only a couple minutes long."
"Thank you Lieutenant," Kirk paused. "...Everybody ready?"
Spock rested a hand on the back of the captain's chair. "Jim...I doubt this will become easier if drawn out…"
"I know, Spock..." Jim took a deep breath in; out. "...Onscreen."
Nyota opened the file...and Leonard's bruised face once again replaced the starscape.
...What had happened to him?
"This is Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, Chief…Former Chief Medical Officer of the Federation Starship Enterprise. To any and all ships that can hear this, I am requesting emergency aide."
Please, let the message be recent. Let it be––
"A little over forty days ago, I was abducted by Khan Noonien Singh, a terrorist who is threatening to set off bombs throughout Federation space."
...God...the message was already eleven days old...
The doctor's good eye was haunted; he seemed to be trembling.
"He...he told me that there's a bomb under a playground in Atlanta, Georgia. He's gonna kill children!"
...Children.
Khan didn't have a line he wouldn't cross, did he?
"A few minutes ago, I was finally able ta sedate him," Leonard touched his throat. "Nearly got my neck snapped doin' it...but I've got 'em knocked out in the makeshift medbay he made for me."
Nyota felt a rush of pride in her friend.
That was the Leonard McCoy she knew! He turned the tables on that––
"I'm not sure how long I can keep him that way though. If what he's told me is true, then his bombs are on timers. If he doesn't reset them in 'bout three weeks, then they'll all go off at once...and I can't let that happen. If nobody comes...if nobody rescues me and captures him by then...I'll have ta wake 'em up."
Her smile faded.
...Timers. Of course Khan would use timers.
If the message had been sent out eleven days before, then they had less than half that to mount a rescue. What if he was too far away...
The doctor grimaced; stared ahead at something they couldn't see.
"I...I have no idea where I am. I know that I'm on the ship that Khan set out from Earth in...the Botany Bay, and that we've landed on a moon that's covered in yellow sand, and we're orbiting a gas giant. There's at least one other moon; it's M–class...and the Federation's apparently studied it before, and decided the magnetic field was too strong ta make it a good colony...and that's all I know."
Nyota glanced over at Sulu and Chekov. The pair had pulled up a list of charted star systems; were already putting in the celestial conditions Leonard described; searching for possible matches.
...But there could be hundreds of systems like that.
"He's got this beaming tech that lets 'em jump from planet ta planet…If somebody can talk me through how ta set in coordinates...I think I can beam us both out of here; maybe even all the way back ta Earth...But I can't risk it without help. I'm a doctor, not a...I have no clue how ta use the thing...and if I screw up…a lot of innocent people will die."
Chekov stiffened; turned to Kirk with wide eyes; shook his head rapidly.
...The navigator was right: having Leonard try to beam himself out was too big of a risk. They needed to travel there in the Enterprise...or he'd never make it home.
Mork'd better not be lying about having the coordinates.
Her friend's breath sped up; he clenched his jaw; closed his glistening eye.
...Then he slumped forward, and the tears finally spilled over.
"Please...someone help me. I can't let this monster go! He's killed so many people already, and he's threatened my daughter! She's only twelve years old…"
...Joanna...
Khan kept Leonard in line by threatening Joanna.
Scum was too kind a word.
Her friend stared back into the camera.
"Look...I don't care if you're with the Federation, or the Orions, or...hell! If the only people gettin' this message are Klingons, or Romulans, or anybody else that wants ta show up the Federation by capturing the most dangerous terrorist of our time, I'll drink blood wine, or Romulan ale, or generally have a great 'we saved thousands of lives' victory dinner with any of ya. Just as long as you stop those bombs from goin' off…"
...He was that desperate. He'd rather…
There was a pause; a spectrum of emotions passed over Leonard's face.
"So…" The doctor cleared his throat. "Once again: I am Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy, former CMO of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Kidnapped by Khan Noonien Singh over forty days ago. We're on an old Earth ship called the Botany Bay. He's got bombs on timers all over the place. Get me out of here, and I'll happily play diplomat, or political prisoner, or whatever ya wanna call it, okay? Just...please send help. Anything's better than this. McCoy out."
The recording ended; the viewscreen once again displayed the Ferengi ship.
No one spoke.
...She'd never seen Leonard like that before. Sure, from time to time, the guy had had his breakdown moments––they all did––but that haunted look...the sheer terror over the possibility of Khan waking up again...
...What had that monster done to her friend?
A light flashed on Nyota's console; she read the transmission.
"Captain, Mork is hailing us again."
"...Thanks, Uhura," Kirk's voice had a tremor to it; he cleared his throat. "Onscreen."
With the push of a button, the merchant's lobe–wreathed face popped back up on the viewscreen.
"Hello Captain Mork," Kirk nodded stiffly. "Did the latinum meet your specifications?"
"Oh, yes," The Ferengi grinned. "It seems you are an honest business partner...even if other aspects of your culture are a bit backwards!"
...Nyota could almost hear her friend's brain screaming.
"And the coordinates?"
"Yes, of course…" Mork tapped something into a panel. "If my source was correct, these symbols should work with your ship's mapping system…"
Nyota's console beeped; she read the data…and gave a sigh of relief.
"They've already been formatted to Federation navigational specs." One less thing to fight with. "I'm sending them to Chekov now."
A moment later, Nyota saw the coordinates flash across the ensign's star chart; watched him pinpoint a region of space.
"I zink zese zis is it!" Chekov expanded the region on the map; pointed to a planet. "Our astrological data says zis solar system contains three gas giants. Zere is one in the Habitable Zone zat has two moons: one covered in yellow sand, and one M–class with a high magnetic field!"
"Exactly what Bones described…" Kirk muttered; looked at Mork. "Those coordinates are in the middle of the Klingon Neutral Zone: how do I know this isn't all some plot to start a war between the Federation and the Klingon Empire?"
The Ferengi shrugged. "You don't...but that's not my problem. Rule 19: 'Satisfaction is not guaranteed.'"
The captain's sigh was two notes above a growl. "Fine...And our copy of these 'Rules?'"
"Oh, of course!" Mork exclaimed; tapped on his control panel. "I wouldn't want to forget that...I have a reputation to protect after all."
"You certainly do," Kirk deadpanned.
A moment later, a new file appeared on Nyota's console. She opened it; her eyebrows immediately lowered.
...Really?
"I've got the file, Captain...but it hasn't been translated."
"That was never part of the agreement, Female!" The Ferengi growled at her; turned back to Kirk with a smile. "After all–"
"Yeah yeah...Rule 19." The captain shook his head. "Alright Captain Mork, I will just have to trust my highly talented communications officer, Lieutenant Uhura, to translate this for us. She is the best translator in the entire Fleet."
Nyota smirked. Kirk knew when to dole out compliments...and the rules the Ferengi had already recited should be enough to translate the rest of the list. It would be a fun project.
"...Is she now?" Mork hissed something unintelligible under his breath. "...Well...Captain Kirk, I believe this concludes our business. It has been...interesting."
"That it has," the captain agreed. "Hopefully future communications between our people will occur with an easier...understanding."
The merchant huffed. "Oh, I am certain they will. Until next time, Hue–mons!"
The channel cut out; the Ferengi ship blinked into warp.
For a moment, the bridge went quiet again.
Chekov and Sulu were pouring over the coordinates Mork provided; clearly searching for any known Klingon outposts in the vicinity. Any chance they had of rescuing Leonard depended on––
"So that's it," Kirk's voice was...distant. "It's...over. All this...all of it was for nothing."
...What?
The lieutenant blinked. "Captain, what do you mean? This is the best news we've had in weeks!"
"...Eleven days, Uhura," the captain swiveled to her, but his eyes didn't look quite focused. "Eleven days in the heart of the Klingon Neutral Zone, and a signal that only lasted a couple hours...We have to be realistic. The Klingons heard the signal, and destroyed the ship. Khan is most likely dead, and with him, all chance of stopping his bombs. And Bo...Len...Doctor McCoy...he's...he's gone too."
...No...
No!
The fact that Leonard had been able to send that message at all was a miracle; Nyota was damned if they were going to give up hope now!
"Or he figured where he was, and turned it off himself," Nyota insisted. "There's a lot that can get between a distress signal and its intended source. Electromagnetic interference; ion storms; solar flares...if Leonard's signal really only transmitted for a few hours, then the Klingons might not have picked it up. He could easily still be out there!"
"And whales could pop out of extinction at any second!" Kirk snapped; grimaced. "I...I'm sorry Uhura...that was...Look, I want to believe that this is it. You have no idea how much I want to believe...But whenever Khan's involved, our luck takes a tailspin. And if the Klingons did get the signal––"
"Then you are correct, and all chance we may have had of preventing his bombs from detonating has been lost," Spock interrupted. "However Captain, without knowing for certain what has happened, our only logical course of action is to cross into the Neutral Zone, and search for Doctor McCoy."
"But Spock––"
"Jim," Spock interrupted; his voice was...soft. "You told me why you do not believe in no–win scenarios. There was nothing you could do then, but there is now. Until proven otherwise, McCoy is alive, and waiting for us to come to his aide. You must believe that, because if we do not at least attempt this mission, then Khan's bombs will kill thousands."
...Nyota could read every emotion crossing Kirk's face. Anger. Frustration. Grief. Fear. Doubt...so much doubt…
She understood. With all they knew laid bare, it was hard to think of a scenario where their mission hadn't already failed; where they could still save lives...
...But...finally...there was a glimmer of hope.
"...Well...if Bones is waiting for us, we can't just leave him there, can we?" Kirk huffed; spun back to the front of the bridge. "Mister Chekov, plot a course for those coordinates. The fastest route that keeps us as far from Klingon space as possible. We're not trying to start a war."
Chekov grinned; turned to his station. "Aye, Captain! We'll have to cross through an ionized nebula, but I zink I can get us zere in four days."
"Fantastic! Mister Sulu, be ready to head there as soon as Cupcake's team is back aboard. Maximum warp."
"Yes, sir!"
"Should we contact Starfleet Command before we embark?" Spock asked.
Kirk shook his head. "Every hour we waste could be the difference between finding Doctor McCoy alive, or a pile of rubble. We'll wait to tell the admirals about this until we're almost at the border. Harder for them to say no that way."
Spock's eyebrow quirked. "Yes, Captain. I will apprise Mister Scott of our situation, and ask for his recommendation on how long we can sustain maximum warp."
"Good plan, Spock: blowing up wouldn't help anybody." The captain paused; frowned. "Speaking of...if the Klingons do intercept us...got any ideas on how we can convince them we're coming in peace?"
"I have a...sister...who may be able to help. She has studied Klingon culture extensively, and was posted along their border for several years. It is likely she had had to deal with...incursions...before."
Kirk spun; stared. "Spock, you have a sister?"
Spock gave a small nodd.
"I do."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It never came up."
Nyota rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure her boyfriend hadn't told Kirk about his brother either...but Spock was a private guy. It was his choice whether or not to tell anyone about his family...no matter how...big...it might be.
"Alright...I guess that conversation can wait," the captain said. "Go ahead and get in touch with your...sister."
"Yes, Captain." The excitement in Spock's tone would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but to Nyota, her boyfriend was almost giddy.
"Great," Kirk turned to her. "Uhura, I'll need you to keep your ears peeled for chatter from Klingon ships. Anything that might tell us if they got the distress signal. If there's going to be a welcome party when we get there, I'd like to know about it well in advance."
She nodded, "Of course, Captain."
"Great," the captain's determined expression flickered; he sat back in his chair. "Once we're in the Neutral Zone, we might not have a lot of time before the Klingons figure out we're there. We need to be prepared for anything, understood?"
Nyota joined in on the chorus of "Yes, Captains" that echoed across the bridge.
This was it. This would work.
...It had to.
Kirk sat back in his chair; cockily crossed his legs. "Good...now, let's go bring Bones home."
