Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Nothing. Well…I own the Sharks. But I don't own Kirk, I don't own Harry, I don't own the Starfleet crew, I don't even own the song. Yes. There's a song. Read on.
A lovely new chapter! Comic relief (partially), after our grim last chapter. My love of Pirates of the Caribbean finally slips itself in…
CHAPTER TEN
McCoy came into the Mess Hall sometime around eleven pm. He'd heard that…something was going on. Something was definitely going on. Mr. Spock often objected to the noise level in the Mess Hall. The usual noise level was nothing compared to what was going on now.
At three or four tables was a group of fifteen or twenty Sharks. It didn't take any medical expertise to realize that they had found a way to get alcoholic beverages out of the replicators. Or that they had made full use of that way. Empty bottles littered the tabletops and floor around them. Five of the pirates were already sound asleep, heads sunk down onto the top of the table, as often as not resting in a puddle of alcohol. This number did not include their valiant leader. Kirk was leaning back in his chair in the center of the group, legs stretched out, feet up on the table, arms crossed over his chest. His jacket collar was turned up, and a somewhat battered hat covered his face. To all appearances he was dead to the world. The other pirates were not so quiet. They were following the time-honored tradition of singing bawdy songs at the top of their lungs.
There were a few Starfleet officers in the room. Most were attempting to eat their dinners and ignore the Sharks. With one exception. McCoy headed straight for the exception.
Spock was sitting at an empty table that had a good view of the pirates. His expression was one of mild interest, his hands steepled on the table in front of him. McCoy planted himself directly in the Vulcan's line of vision.
"Aren't you going to do anything?" McCoy demanded.
"What do you believe I should be doing?" Spock's voice was raised slightly to be heard over the singing. Otherwise, his tone was absolutely calm. It always was.
McCoy scowled at him. "I don't like it, but the fact of the matter is, you're in command. And you're going to just sit there and let them drink and sing and—why don't you call security?"
"They are armed. We are not."
"They're drunk!"
"Drunken men are often irrational and violent. In even greater degrees than normal."
McCoy didn't miss the subtle point about the usual violence and irrationality of humans. It didn't improve his mood. "So you're going to just sit here and do nothing?"
"I am going to sit here and watch. There is a difference."
"Sure there is," McCoy said sarcastically.
He didn't give Spock a chance to come back with anything from that, but went over to the replicators and ordered a cup of coffee. Spock had not invited McCoy to join his table. McCoy didn't. He did take up a seat elsewhere, to do a little watching of his own.
* * *
An hour later, things were winding down. Most of the pirates were asleep, either on the table, in the chairs, or, in a few cases, on the floor. Somehow, the noise level hadn't dropped much.
"Yo ho, yo ho! A pirate's life for me!" Carl sang loudly. The term 'sang' being used loosely. "We're rascals, scoundrels, villains and knaves! Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!" He paused to try to remember the next line.
Harry raised his head off the table and looked at him blearily. "That's the third time you've sung that."
"I like it."
"I don't."
Carl took a certain amount of offense to that. He started to get out of his chair. He made it half way up, lost his balance, and fell back into his seat. He shrugged, was too drunk to stay mad, and went back to singing. "We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack! Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!"
Harry groaned. Without lifting his head he sorted through the bottles scattered near him until he found one that was still mostly full. Grasping it, he got to his feet, with an effort. He was slightly less drunk than Carl in that he managed to stay upright, and even to stagger his way out the door of the Mess Hall, still clutching the bottle.
Carl didn't notice. "Maraud and embezzle and even hijack! Drink up…uh…drink up…" He abandoned the line. "Yo ho, yo ho…a pirate's…life…for…" His head slowly sunk forward and finally hit the tabletop. The noise level dropped considerably. Despite the volume of his snores, it was quieter than his singing.
The Mess Hall was almost empty by now. Spock hadn't left yet. McCoy, in a fierce determination that Spock wasn't going to outlast him, was still present as well. Whether Spock was still there for a similar reason is possible, but far more difficult to tell. In any case, it was pretty much down to them and the pirates.
McCoy viewed the drunken, unconscious Sharks with undisguised contempt. "Pathetic. Completely pathetic."
"They are certainly not the most choice examples of your species."
Had McCoy thought about it, he would have realized that this was very possibly the closest thing to an agreement he'd had from Spock in six months. He didn't think about it though, as he was distracted from Spock's comment by a comment from the middle of the pirates.
"Is the party over already?" Jim Kirk lifted the brim of his hat and looked at the snoring pirates around him. "Just as well. They can't sing anyway."
In one fluid movement Kirk swung his legs down and rose to his feet. He kicked a bottle out of his way, stepped over Tony, and came around the table. He tipped his hat to Spock and McCoy, set it at a rakish tilt, and strolled towards the door.
McCoy looked from Kirk to the pirates and back again. "Aren't you going to do something?"
Kirk stopped halfway to the door and glanced at McCoy. "Yeah. I'm going to go find a bed and sleep. Got any empty quarters? They're probably bigger than any rooms on my ship."
"About the Sharks, I mean, aren't you going to do something about them?"
Kirk barely tossed them a look. "Why? They've passed out in more dangerous places than this. They'll be alright in the morning." He gave McCoy and Spock a longer look. "Y'know, it seems kind of silly, an empty Mess Hall and you sit at different tables," he said idly.
Spock and McCoy glanced at each other. "Why would we necessarily sit together?" Spock asked.
"Strength in numbers? I dunno, just a thought." He was at the door before he had another one. "And if you're thinking about hostages…well, don't think about hostages."
"But if we were to take your unconscious crewmembers as hostages?" Spock pressed.
Kirk shrugged carelessly. "Then I guess I'd be getting myself a new gang next time I drop by Rigel." The door hissed shut on any reply Spock or McCoy might have felt inclined to make.
~~~*~~~*~~~
Beedrill: Yay! I've achieved jaw-dropping! LOL. And you obviously have a good grasp of the Kirk-McCoy situation. I'm glad, that's what I was going for. And as for scheming…next chapter! And you seem to have a grasp of the young-Kirk to older-Kirk situation too…[sighs contentedly] I love it when people understand what I'm trying to say.
Nenya: Yes…the whole galaxy is a little bit twisted in this universe. And the ensign very well might have been Jones, but I figured if I said it was him, everybody would be delighted about Jones and not pay any attention at all to Kirk and McCoy, lol.
Emp: Wow…I see you're not a fan of Finnegan…
Samantha: S'okay if you thought the Kirk-Scotty scene was funny, it was supposed to be more light-hearted. Gary Mitchell might turn up, haven't decided…have I said that already? Maybe. And as to the phaser being on kill…now that's an interesting question, isn't it? And regarding Captain Lowell, more on him next chapter.
RadarPLO: Enthusiasm! I love it! And…did he kill someone? Or did he not? Mysterious, isn't it?
Unrealistic: Of course it's convenient that Lowell's unconscious and Spock's in command. I wrote it that way. Because, really, who would be more interesting to have in command?
Wedge: Yes! Vanquished lingering doubts about Kirk's evilness! That was the goal, y'know. If shooting Finnegan hadn't worked, I might have had to have him slap Uhura or something…but we can avoid that scene now. And of course McCoy couldn't not be Bones!
Bug the Hobbit: Well…I'm writing more! And I may write more serious ones…I didn't realize how fun they are until I started this one. But comedies are fun too.
Silverfang: I gotta ask…what is the BO-YAKA? My friends say Boo-yah sometimes, but I'm lost Bo-yaka…
Whatshername: [points at last line of review] It's the ghost of Keridwen, back to tell me about the goodness of cheese! Wow…
I think that's all…onwards! Much more planned for the next few chapters…some seriousness, more comic relief, another flashback, and…oh yeah. Some actual plot advancement! But that's all to come. In the meantime, review please!