The silence is never really silent. It's filled with wet coughs and ragged breathes encompassed by the stench of death. Hope has long since abandoned them, giving way to cruel acceptance of a most grisly fate. Waiting for death can be incredible tedious; the grim reaper seeming to be in no hurry to end their suffering.

Footsteps echo down the halls long before Nero's guards come into sight. Jim breathes a sigh of relief as they return Leonard, no worse for wear than when he left and that is the best they can hope for these days. The doctor is shoved back in their cell with the usual fanfare. He stumbles a little, but stays on his feet, turning a seething glare to the guards as they leave. It's an empty threat, the last defiance of the dying to not go willingly into the eternal embrace of darkness.

Leonard wearily stumbles to his makeshift bunk and flops down. Standing requires far more energy than he has anymore.

"What did they want?" asks Jim, poking his head over the edge of his bunk.

"A doctor," says Leonard bitterly. He sits at the edge of his bunk summoning the courage to force his aching and battered body to endure the pain of lying down.

"Anyone important?" asks Jim. It'd probably be too much to ask for Nero to be inflicted by some horrible disease that will ravage him and his people leaving what's left of the Troubadour crew alive and able to escape. He can dream through.

"Nope," huffs the doctor. "One of the helmsmen had a hangnail," he snarls through gritted teeth as he bites the bullet and slowly, with shaking limbs, adopts a prone position. It wasn't really a hangnail, more like a small gash but given the state of the Troubadour crew, it felt like treating a hangnail. Tending to Nero's men has become the only really doctoring he's allowed to do of late. Nero refuses to give him adequate supplies to treat the captives leaving Leonard only the resources he can steal.

"I don't know why you help them," criticizes Ensign Fowler from the bunk across from Jim and Leonard's. He glares at Leonard like he's something dirty or worse, something traitorous.

Leonard just lets out a sigh and fixes his eyes on the pipes running over his head that make up Jim's bed. He often asks himself the same question. None of the Romulan's lives are ever in danger, it's always superficial wounds and ailments that Nero goes through all the pomp and circumstance of having Leonard tend. Leonard sees it for the torture it is but still, he performs his duty. His soul isn't sale.

"After everything they've done to us, you should let them die, Doctor," hisses Fowler.

"Leave him alone," snaps Jim when no response from Leonard is forthcoming. They don't need to be turning on one another.

Leonard can't argue the sentiment. He thinks about it every time Ayel sees fit to beat Jim or any of them, but especially Jim. Ayel wouldn't be here to torture Jim, break his leg by stomping on it repeatedly, if Leonard hadn't performed a hasty operation at Nero's order in the first days of their captivity. Ayel would have died from injuries sustained in the attack on the Troubadour and the biggest monster unleashed on the survivors would be nothing more than a ghost story, however, they would have a bigger monster living among them.

Leonard thinks about this every single time and still he can't bring himself to refuse.

Fowler pulls himself up so he's sitting on his bunk. "Why? They don't leave us alone. If you're going to be a Romulan sympathizer, you should just join their ranks outright, Doctor."

"Enough," cautions Jim, noticing the rant is drawing attention from their fellow crewmen. Jim has his own designs to introduce a few of their guards to something pointy or blunt, depending on what makes itself available, but he knows Leonard would never. Leonard took an oath that he takes seriously with more conviction than Jim has ever seen in his whole life. It's simultaneously the most wonderful and most frustrating thing about Leonard. Leonard can no more not be the healer than Jim cannot be the smartass cocky shit looking to fight the current representation of the school yard bully.

"Enough? It's our duty as officers to resist the enemy and he's over there putting Band-Aids on their boo-boos while we bleed to death," accuses Fowler to the consensual murmurs of the crew.

Jim sits up throwing his aching leg over the edge of the bunk. It burns, waves of fire pulsating through it as the still mending bones grind against each other. Leonard set it as best he could, but it's faulty work without those medical supplies he keeps begging for and being denied. Leonard's gone quiet, but Jim's not going to sit idly by while his own people talk shit about someone who's doing everything possible to keep them alive. Jim can see the way each failure is slowly breaking Leonard, like it's the doctor's fault their captives are killing them slowly.

Jim's been sporting for a good fight for awhile, ever since he lost the ability to stand without help while his leg is broken. He'd rather fight a Romulan, but he'll settle for just protecting Leonard's honour.

Everyone perks up slightly, the smell of a fight brewing in the stale air. Everyone watches as Fowler and Jim glare at each other, each one silently daring the other to make the first declaration of intention.

"We have to be better than them," says Leonard, voice hoarse with disuse.

All eyes turn to Leonard's bunk. He's still laying there, almost uninterested in the turmoil growing around him.

"I took an oath to help people. It wasn't based on skin color, gender, species, or political affiliation, just to help the sick and injured. I don't get to play judge or jury and certainly not executioner. It's not my job to determine if a life is worth saving, no one has the right to make that judgment. If I do, if we do, then we're no better than the people holding us now. Sure I could refuse, cite an eye for an eye, but refusal isn't going to temper Nero's hand. It will however cost me my soul and if we survive using those tactics, you'll find it will cost you yours as well," he elaborates, before rolling over to face the wall.

Everyone is quick to act disinterested, going back to their silent waiting in their own corners of this hell. Fowler waves it off before curling up on his bunk to chase sleep. Jim sits there thinking. He hasn't been blind to the fact that Nero is torturing Leonard, probably worst of all, without laying a finger on him. Day in and day out, they chip away at Leonard's soul and still Leonard won't sit by and let a life fade. He patches up Nero's crew knowing full well they'll go right back to torturing the Troubadour crew and still he heals them. Of course Nero threatens to hurt the captives if Leonard doesn't, but even without that clout hanging over Leonard's head, he'd still do it. He does it because Leonard is the real hero. Jim hopes he never sees the day when Leonard can cross that line.

Jim's getting too old for this. He remembers scrambling around ships being easier when he was still a cadet, and his leg and shoulder weren't constant problems. Unfortunately he doesn't have the luxury of stopping. He waits, curled up against an access grate, for the guard pacing habitat section eight to leave the section. He should have grabbed Leonard's entire medical bag. Not only does it have pain meds but all of Jim's medications- the kind he takes daily. He can hear the faint whispers he knows aren't there, calling him as the cold icy hands of things past reach out desperately to pull him under. He just has to keep it together long enough to kill Khan.

Seizing his chance, he climbs out of the Jefferies tube and approaches the door. "I'm here," he whispers pulling out his communicator. It takes a second for Chekov to override the lock, the door beeping compliance, opening to allow Jim entrance. He steps through, ducking in the nick of time as a bright blue vase comes hurtling at his head.

It smashes against the wall, pieces raining to the ground as the door slides shuts. "I told you to stay out," shrieks Chapel, grabbing the next nearest object to hurtle in Jim's direction.

"Whoa," yells Jim, raising his hands in surrender. "It's me, Christine, it's Jim."

"Jim?" she stammers, still holding the glass bowl over her shoulder.

"Yeah," agrees Jim, slowly standing up straight. He takes a cautious step towards her and then another until he's close enough to snatch the bowl out of her hands. The second he takes the improvised weapon, Christine wraps her arms around him sobbing.

Jim sets the bowl down on the side table and wraps his arms around her. He can feel the warmth of her tears soak through his shirt. "Are you okay?" he asks. He can feel her nod her head but she doesn't say anything. None of them are really okay, they just need to aim for functioning right now. Jim just needs to know these assholes weren't getting excessively rough with her. He takes a good look at her. With the exception of a dark bruise on her cheek, she seems to be unharmed.

"We need your help retaking the ship," says Jim.

Chapel looks slightly apprehensive. She's a nurse, she has no combat training and no skills that lend themselves to hostilities. "How can I possibly help?"

"We have a plan," says Jim, doing his best to sound confident.

"A plan?" asks Chapel.

Jim mulls the word over. It's less a plan and more of a vague notion in desperate need of a miracle. "We have an idea?" he says with a little less confidence.

Chapel looks hesitant to ask. "What part do I play in this idea?"

"I need some hypos and a lot of sedatives."

Jim collapses in the nearest chair he can find when he returns to engineering and rubs his aching leg. Going a couple rounds on the mat with Chekov is one thing, but climbing through tubes and tangling with terrorists is another. The intel was important and Chekov and Scotty's talents better suited in engineering so Jim just has to bear it. The constant ache that's growing louder and sharper is a reminder that he's not built for this anymore.

"Are you alright there, Jim?" asks Scotty, looking concerned.

"Yeah," says Jim. He's far from it, but there aren't a lot of options right now- keep fighting or lay down and die. Jim's never made things easy for himself and he's not about to start making things easy for anyone else either.

"You gonna make it?" presses the engineer. He can be scrappy if he needs to be, but retaking a starship is a lot out of his purview. Not to mention they're out numbered forty to three. They can't afford to lose anyone if they even have a snowball's chance in hell here.

"You don't know how strong you are until you have no other choice," sighs Jim, getting wearily to his feet. It's time to work smarter not harder. They can't physically out match their opponents so they're going to have to level the playing field. "Any chance there's any of that gas left they used on us?"

Scotty shakes his head. "It's not something we keep in abundant supply and it takes awhile to synthesize it."

Time isn't something that's on their side and Khan doesn't seem the sporting type to wait for them to get their shit together.

"What about an anesthetic?" suggests Chekov. "It's easily synthesized with the correct medical authorization." They both look at Jim expectantly.

Jim knows all of Leonard's codes. Not because Leonard has specifically told him, there are several regulations actually forbidding Leonard revealing them to Jim, but he hasn't actually gone out of his way to change them or overtly hide them when Jim hacks them for either sport in the throes of an episode. "No it's too risky. We have no idea how any of them will react or any impact it might have on the crew. And without someone from medical your guess would be as good as mine." There's countless species serving aboard the Enterprise, Jim just can't gamble with their lives like that. He's also not bringing in any medical personnel into this fight any more than absolutely necessary. "Do we have control of the computer yet?"

"I've managed to make a backdoor into several programs but Khan still has most systems locked. If I push too hard, it will alert them that someone is trying to retake the system and Khan will either shut us out before we gain control or know there is a problem," explains Chekov.

"We need a way to distract Khan," spitballs Jim, getting up to pace. He does some of his best thinking in motion, granted that motion is usually carrying him through an already enacted bad idea he needs out of.

"And neutralize his henchmen or we're done before we begin," throws out Scotty, because it's kind of a lynchpin to the whole thing.

"So far, they're all working in groups of two to three manning all key locations," reports Jim. The odds aren't impossible but given their superior strength, Jim would rather not have to take on more than one at a time

"Except for the bridge," adds Chekov. "Sensors indicate they keep four to eight people on the bridge."

Scotty shares a look of distain with Jim. "You can bet one of them will be Khan."

"There's three guarding the senior staff and anyone they deem trouble at all times in briefing room five," informs Scotty. He was there with them until Khan decided his people needed a modern engineer to show them the ropes in engineering. "The rest of the crew are locked in their quarters."

"Wait," says Jim, looking perplexed. "If Khan's gone to all the trouble of sorting the crew, why doesn't he know I wasn't accounted for?" Not to toot his own horn but being the whole bases for Khan's superiority rant seems like Jim would matter enough to be part of the head count, for gloating purposes at least.

Scotty shrugs. "He sent Uhura and Sulu around to do a head count with that Joaquin fella; make sure everyone was secure in their quarters or rounded up to see Khan. Uhura reported you were in your quarters."

"I wasn't," corrects Jim. "I was in the Jefferies tubes when the gas was released."

"Clearly the lass lied."

Thank god for small favors and Uhura's steadfast resolve. The only problem is, when the truth comes out, Uhura is going to be the prime target.

"Why don't we just free the crew?" asks Chekov, "the numbers will be in our favor then."

"Because that'll lead to mass casualties. I doubt the Botany crew will go quietly. And you know Khan has a backup plan if he thinks he's losing the ship. Plus anything that's noticeable and time consuming will just give him the opportunity to execute the senior staff. We need either quiet or quick subterfuge. Divide and conquer if we want our ship and people in one piece."

"How are we supposed to divide them? They seem pretty committed to their cause and we're no match physically."

"Do we have transporters?" asks Jim. That could make life so much easier. They could simply beam their asses into the brig and avoid the whole combat part of their hostile takeover.

"No. Khan has that locked up tight under his own personal command code. I need bridge access to regain control of the systems he's locked down under his personal authorization," apologizes Chekov. He's good at this but it's not exactly his area of expertise. If only they had the Captain who could probably recode the whole system with one hand in the dark.

"Force fields?" throws out Jim, though it's a long shot. Chekov shakes his head.

"And we need to stop Khan from waking up any more of his people," reminds Scotty, because there's no point taking out the goons if Khan can just turn around and unleash more faster than they can probably take them out. Really, this situation doesn't look like something they can get on top of.

Jim frowns. "Back to the distraction." He needs something that's more important than staying in control or the ship itself. Jim's really good at getting unwanted attention but as much as Khan seems to want to strangle the life out him, Jim hasn't been that big a of a pain that Khan would throw everything away just to come after him- yet. "Are the stasis pods air tight?"

"Yes. They are made to protect the occupant from all elements," says Chekov.

"And save the Captain," adds Scotty. They're drowning here; there's too many balls in the air and none of them are jugglers.

Like Jim could forget. "Any more problems you want to remind me of?" asks Jim tiredly. It's been so long since he felt the pressure of command, he's forgotten how consuming it is. Now that they're here and all eyes are looking to him, he doesn't feel like he's up to it. The last time ended so badly; he doesn't want to see the disappointment on his friends' faces if he can't turn this into a win for them.

Scotty looks like he has something to say but closes his mouth.

"Anyone have any good news?" asks Jim. They really need a win right now. Getting a few hypos to help them knock out some of Khan's crew can't be the best they have right now.

"I have engineering rigged to eject the warp core. If those bastards try to retake engineering, the ship won't be any good to them after," announces Scotty with a little pride. His lovely lady isn't going to work for just anyone anymore.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. We're a long way from home." It's a card Jim could use to make Khan fold but being stranded isn't necessarily any better than hostage in the vastness of space. "I've figured out when and how they're planning to kill the Captain."

Chekov and Scotty look a little more interested and largely more fearful.

"They take whoever they're making an example of to sickbay and stuff them in the decompression chamber to suffocate." The revelation casts a grim silence over the trio. It's a horrible way to go. It makes Jim a little sick to think of Leonard's sickbay being used as a place of execution. But there goes Khan, pouring salt into an already gaping and festering wound. "Scotty, you and I will go free the Captain as they escort him to sickbay. Chekov you'll head to the bridge and wait for Spock and Scotty and then when Khan leaves, you'll take the bridge. And Chekov, I could really use transporters."

"How are we going to save the Captain? And then how are we going to take the bridge?" rambles Scotty, concerned. They have few resources and so much to lose if they fail and the mountain is enormous.

"I brought presents," says Jim triumphantly, holding up several phasers and bag full of hypos with a huge smile. "I'm going to need you to activate this protocol just before we take the bridge," adds Jim punching in a code and handing the PADD over to Chekov.

The kid scrutinizes the code and the protocol. "Aye, but what is it, Jim?"

It's a legacy, a remnant of privileged information that Jim hasn't forgotten. Jim may not be in command but he remembers the protocols and all the ways Leonard actually has as much if not more power than the captain. It's a little tidbit of rarely enacted command knowledge, something he highly doubts Khan took the time to learn or care about. "It's a medical override code that only captains, first officers and CMOs have. It locks down the ship in case of quarantine situation. This code allows them to use another code to move around the ship with help while keeping everyone else contained. Khan's probably smart enough to have an override but it should keep the rest of them contained until we take the bridge and free the crew. That just leaves me with Khan," says Jim with a dangerous smile.

"What are you going to do?" asks Scotty getting an uneasy feeling. He's seen that look before and the ending is never good.

"I'm going to lure him to the cargo bay."

Scotty doesn't want to ask, but he has to know, "How are you going to do that?"

"By threatening what matters most to him. . . his family."

Scotty crawls along behind Jim as they make their way through the Jefferies tubes. He can tell from the sharp breath and stiff movements that Jim's hurting. Slightly more alarming is the way Jim keeps looking off into the distance like there's something or someone there. They're not exactly the command A-team here. Sure Scotty can perform miracles but his are of the building and repair variety not the tactical kind at least not as far as an enemy like Khan who has so far been two steps ahead of them is concerned.

It's hard to ignore the nervous anxious flutter in his gut that grows with every junction they pass. The corridor Jim's planning on ambushing the escort is quickly coming up and Scotty can't help but feel they're not ready for it.

It's hand over hand, knees shuffling across the cool metal grating. A tiredness is settling in Jim. All this intel gathering has waned the initial flood of adrenaline that fueled Jim when he first heard Khan's voice over the comms threatening Leonard. Anger is a poor substitute but it will have to do; he can't burn out yet. He can practically hear Leonard chastising him with sexy frown.

"You shouldn't be putting that much strain on your leg. You'll regret it in the morning."

Khan has no idea the mistake he made when he killed Leonard. Leonard was the only safeguard keeping Jim from giving a hundred and ten percent against the terrorist. Without Leonard, Jim's really not concerned with tomorrow or the next day.

"Just what do you think you're going to do when you confront Khan?"

"Whatever it takes," answers Jim.

"Whatever what takes?" asks Scotty, looking like he missed something.

"Jim, can you come here a minute?" yells Leonard from somewhere outside.

Jim's really not in the mood for anything that doesn't resemble sulking in their bedroom or as Jim would rather call it dramatic hibernation because he's not exactly a sullen teenager anymore. He grabs his baggy sweatshirt which is actually one of Leonard's old medical school shirts that he absconded somehow in the first three months of sharing a dorm and hasn't returned for the last six years. Leonard's never asked for it back and since possession is nine tenths the law, Jim's going to claim property rights.

It's dusk on a relatively warm night on the tail end of summer, hardly worthy of anything more than a basic t-shirt but the sweatshirt has become an old habit. First, people assume he went to Old Miss by virtue of the green letter advertising and second it makes Jim look smaller, lost in the excess fabric that he never quite filled out the same way Leonard did, but looks even bigger on Jim than usual these days. The property around the farmhouse is pretty secluded to begin with, the nearest neighbor a mile or so away so it's not like the neighbors are going to see him when he steps out of the house. It still feels safer to play the anonymity card. More importantly, the worn and bagged out sweatshirt has become a security blanket. It smells like Leonard, like home.

Jim does a preliminary search of the main floor, hoping it's some weird echo that's placed Leonard outside, but alas he's not in the house. Jim could go back upstairs and fain ignorance. Leonard knows Jim's lack lustre enthusiasm for all things outdoors lately and his flirtation with agoraphobia, so he wouldn't ask if it wasn't somewhat important. Begrudgingly Jim slips his boots on and traipse out the back door.

It's brighter outside than in the house, even if it twilight. Natural light just has a way of illuminating the world in away artificial light hasn't mastered completely.

Jim chews on his lip. Leonard's not on the porch that wraps its way along the back of the house. He searches the yard with his eyes until he catches a glimpse of Leonard's mop hair over the rail of the gazebo. Indulging in a huff, Jim hobbles down the stairs and storms across the yard. If he has to be somewhere he doesn't want to be, he's damn well going to make it miserable for everyone else too.

"There you are," says Leonard distractedly as he fiddles with something on the railing.

Jim crosses his arms. "Here I am," he huffs, like he has something better to do or somewhere to be.

Leonard rolls his eyes. He deals with a teenage girl all every summer, anything Jim wants to lob at him is water off a ducks back at this point. "Come here, I want to show you something," he says in his most endearing voice, extending his hand to help Jim up the three steps to the gazebo.

Jim glares, refusing to accept the hand, instead he uses the smooth wood railing to help pull himself up the steps. "I've seen the gazebo," he says stomping to the center. He's stayed mostly in the house since they moved here, but he did tour the property when they made the purchase. There's nothing out in the world he wants right now. Why can't Leonard just let him be miserable all by himself?

The gazebo isn't quite like how it was when they bought the property. There's wiring tangled all around the wood rafters. "What's all this?" snaps Jim. He doesn't know what Leonard's trying to do out here but he should probably stick to medicine and not venture any further into engineering.

Leonard hits the on switch and the messy wiring lights up with thousands of little twinkling lights. "There's only room for one old curmudgeon on this farm," he says simply as Jim looks up in wonder. It's grown dark enough outside that the lights shine brightly against the darkening sky under the exposed openings in the gazebo roof.

"Wow."

"If you can't go to space, I thought I'd bring the universe to you," Leonard says triumphantly.

Jim stands there a moment, turning slowly as he looks up at what Leonard has made. He's not only manages to make it look like a starry night but the doctor has formed constellations out of the string lights too. It's breathtakingly amazing. He looks at Leonard. "You hate space." Leonard's put a tremendous amount of work into this, the amount of work that demands someone enjoy it and what if Jim refused to come out here.

"But you don't." Leonard steps up to Jim and wraps his harms around him, nuzzling his face in Jim's neck as he pulls Jim's back tight to his chest. "Happy anniversary," he whispers as he starts to sway gently in a box step pattern.

"It's not our anniversary," corrects Jim, getting lost in Leonard's gentle rhythm.

"No. No it's not," agrees Leonard. After everything, everyday is a note worth occasion as long as he has Jim in his arms. "Happy Wednesday."

"You got me a whole universe and I didn't get you anything."

"You are my universe, Jim."

"Don't do anything stupid, Jim," whispers Leonard.

"Jim."

"Jim?" presses Scotty.

"Jim!" the engineer hisses as loud as he dares. The footsteps are starting to echo down the empty corridor signaling Spock and his hangmen are making their way there.

Jim blinks. He blinks again, the tube slowly coming back into focus and as it does the warm feeling of Leonard's embrace fades more and more.

"Where'd you go Jim?"

"It doesn't matter," says Jim bitterly. He's never going to get back there again. he just has to keep it together a little while longer. "Let's get this done."

Spock marches along with his escort. Vulcans lack emotions, even when faced with death. It's the one moment they are the envy of every other species; to feel nothing in an emotional apex. Spock just wishes he felt something other than regret. A life lived logically should have no regret and yet, it's not perusing the illogical that has left him wishing he had. Now that the end is near, there is no argument that can produce a satisfactory answer to why he did not choose Nyota. Having Vulcan children and continuing the species, perusing a career in Starfleet to experience new discoveries and advancements no longer seem like the optimal use of his life.

As every step brings him closer to an unpleasant end, he realizes why it is his father loved his mother. As an emotional human who aimed to instill such quality in her child in an emotional barren waste land, Spock never understood the logic of their union. He could understand the benefits from his father's perspective, but failed to see how they outweighed his mother's constant humanism. Since his mother was often frustrated with his father and his cold logic, he chalked her commitment to their union as a byproduct of irrational emotions. Now he can understand the mysticism in it. He'd relish the opportunity to tell Nyota he loves her one last time.

Step.

Another foot further from her warm embrace.

Step.

Even further from looking into those bright brown eyes that say more than all the words at her disposal.

Step.

One more closer to breaking her heart all over again.

Step.

Even closer to failing her completely.

Step.

Crashing heap of limbs and tangled bodies.

Spock stops and stares along with one of his executioners. The other guard is in the mess on the floor with what looks like Spock's chief engineer and of all people Jim Kirk- who has the amazing ability of being both surprising and predictable. The surprise sneak attack from behind not only takes down one of the guards as the three of them wrestle on the ground for domination but gives Spock the distraction to he needs to take a step back behind Khan's man and implement a nerve pinch rendering him unconscious with ease. Scotty and Jim appear to be having a little more trouble subduing Keto.

Scotty groans as the trio begins to roll, fighting for top position. Not only does he have Jim's weight on top of him as he ends up on the bottom, but Keto's immense form as well. To make matters worse, Jim drives his elbow into Scotty's gut by mistake, causing Scotty to let go of his loaded hypo. It clangs to the ground and skitters across the floor as someone's leg collides with it.

Keto's hand finds its way around Jim's neck, locking on tight and squeezing. Jim's hands shoot to his neck, clawing and scratching at Keto's hand, desperate to loosen the fingers that are tightening like a noose. Scotty tries to reach around from under Keto to pull at his arm but being pinned underneath the dog pile doesn't give him the room to gain any leverage to help.

Jim tries to pull they hypo from his belt while using his other hand to keep Keto from crushing his windpipe. Lack of oxygen is making his hand tremble, he gasps desperate for that sweet breath.

Keto's eyes narrow in on Jim's hand and the shiny device clutched tightly in his fingers. He squeezes harder; the audacity of these mice, that think they can compete with gods. It's almost comical how easy it is to rip the device out of the invalid's hand. He pauses for a moment to consider injecting Jim with the very thing he saw fit to taint him with but the satisfaction of snuffing out Jim's life with his bare hands is far too great. Keto crushes the hypo in front of Jim, a preview of what he has in store for Jim.

Jim uses his right hand to punch and hit anything within reach. His best hope for subduing the terrorist is gone. If he can hit Keto in a soft spot it might be enough to get him to let go before the grey dancing around Jim's vision envelopes him completely.

Spock waits for his opening, a clear shot at Keto's exposed shoulder. He slips his hand through the tangle of limbs and erratic punches rendering Keto as useless as his partner. Jim slumps to the floor gasping for breath as Scotty kicks and shoves the unconscious body off of himself.

Scotty's the first to his feet, pulling his wrinkled uniform shirt straight. "It's good to see ya, Captain." The relief is written plainly on his face.

"You've really got to show me that," wheezes Jim, picking himself off the floor.

Spock raises an eyebrow. Humans seem endlessly fascinated with the maneuver yet never possess the precision to execute it. "What is the ship's status?"

"Khan's still firmly in control," reports Jim, peering around the corner to make sure their scuffle didn't draw any unwanted attention.

"We must…" starts Spock.

"I'm going to stop you there," interrupts Jim. "I know you're the Captain and all but we're kinda in the middle of a plan right now and it's a little time sensitive."

Spock looks at the two Botany crew members unconscious on the floor by his own hand rather than Jim and Scotty's then back at Jim in disbelief. Whatever scheme Jim has put together, it seems to have a few hiccups that need to be ironed out.

Jim picks up the phaser that fell out of his boot when he and Scotty tackled Keto and shoves it into Spock's hands. "I need you to save the ship by retaking the bridge with Scotty."

Spock takes the phaser. It seems odd that someone with Jim's reputation wouldn't want to be on the front lines even if he is technically no longer a member of Starfleet. Human are also predisposed to take pleasure in avenging loved ones. For Jim to pass the job onto someone else is most troubling.

"It will be fine. I'm going to get Khan off the bridge and you'll just have to take care of the others," says Jim already starting to hastily walk away before Spock can ask too many questions or talk him out of going.

"Jim," calls Scotty, running to catch up to him. There's resignation and sadness in his eyes.

Jim stops, closing his eyes. He doesn't want to have this conversation; he's tired.

"Jim," says Scotty again, a little softer as he catches up to his friend. He's been so preoccupied with their impending doom, the particulars of Jim's plan escaped him until know. "The contamination protocol is going to shut down the transporters and lock all the doors," says Scotty. The meaning is implied in the concerned and cautionary tone in his voice. If Jim gets locked in the cargo bay with Khan… he shudders to think.

Jim kind of figured that. If it comes to it, it comes to it, but there's still a lot of time left on the clock for a hail Mary. Jim fixes the biggest, cockiest smile he can muster and prays how he really feels isn't visible in his eyes. "It'll be fine," he assures. He claps Scotty on the shoulder. "You take care of yourself," he says; goodbye would sound too final.

"Aye," says Scotty, tears coming to his eyes. He hands Jim the communicator he grabbed from engineering. "Godspeed laddie." He stands there as Jim hurries towards the cargo, leaving Spock and him with the task seeing the plan through.

"Right, we need to get to the bridge and wait for the signal," says Scotty.

"There is something we must do first," says Spock heading in the opposite direction.

Scotty stands there for a moment gaping. "But the plan," he protests. "We'll miss the signal." Spock keeps going undeterred by Scotty's concern. Stubborn people are going to be the end of him. "Alright," he relents, giving in and chasing after his Captain, "but we need to be quick about it."