Disclaimer: All right…I confess. It is my intention to commandeer Star Trek, pick up a crew from the Enterprise, and pillage, plunder, and otherwise pilfer my weasley black guts out. So there.
Hasn't been too long, has it? I don't think so…and I think this is the longest chapter yet! Have fun!
Chapter Eighteen
The pirates didn't get particularly drunk that night, but nevertheless Spock called a meeting for the following morning. It didn't look as though waiting until they could be certain of a hangover would be feasible, nor logical. And so the same group as before met in the same storeroom as before to discuss the same matter once again.
The beginning of the meeting was uneventful enough. Communications were still out. Engineering had the ship in excellent condition, though Scott didn't see how that was doing anyone but Kirk any good. Security was still wringing its hands and wishing collective glares could cause mass death. And medical…medical was where things got interesting.
Spock came to McCoy last. Whether this decision was in any way affected by the fact that McCoy was clearly itching to say something was a question Spock would not have answered had it been put to him.
"Medical report, please," Spock said finally.
"Everybody's pretty much like they were before," McCoy said briskly. "But guess what?"
Spock looked just faintly annoyed. "Guessing would be a fruitless enterprise on my part, as you have given me no parameters within which to guess, therefore opening infinite possibilities. As we are working within a limited timeframe, please keep your foolish diversions to yourself."
McCoy rolled his eyes, and said, "Iowa."
Spock's eyebrow rose. "This phrase should have some meaning to me?"
McCoy sighed, and explained. "He's from Iowa. Jim Kirk's from Iowa. We all said we needed more information about him. Well, I got some. He's from Iowa."
"And how, precisely, is this useful information?"
McCoy started to answer, stopped, and finally admitted, "All right, maybe it's not useful, but get this: He went to Starfleet Academy."
That produced more of a reaction. Sickbay in general may have heard the news, but apparently the Enterprise's gossip chain had not conveyed it to the bridge crew.
"Interesting," was all Spock said.
"I would've thought it rated a 'fascinating,'" McCoy said dryly.
"'Fascinating' I reserve for the unexpected. This is merely interesting."
McCoy stared at him. "You're not telling me you expected this?"
"I did consider it to be a possibility," Spock acknowledged, "though certainly not a certainty."
Others were more skeptical. "I do not believe it," Chekov said flatly.
"Don't ask me, that's what he said," McCoy responded.
"He lies," Chekov said firmly.
"It would explain much though," Spock said thoughtfully. "His general knowledge of starships and starship operations, for instance. That is what suggested to the possibility to me to begin with."
"It does not explain vhy he is a pirate," Chekov said stubbornly.
"It is not an irreconcilable circumstance," Spock said patiently. "He may have dropped out of the Academy, to name one of many possibilities. In any event, he plainly broke with Starfleet at some point and is now in his present position."
"However it happened, it was a messy break," McCoy put in. "He's got a major chip on his shoulder where Starfleet is concerned."
"If we knew the reason for his resentment of Starfleet, that would be useful," Spock decided.
McCoy scowled, instantly and automatically affronted. "Oh sure, the information I didn't get is the part you'd find useful."
"It is unfortunate," Spock said noncommittally.
The rest of those present resigned themselves to sitting through another argument between Spock and McCoy. Except that there wasn't one. McCoy frowned but didn't respond, and the whole business blew over.
The next matter to consider was, naturally, the issue of Kirk's codes. Only one had been heard: Diaz1487. Another name, another number, and there wasn't time for deep meditations beyond that. It was almost seven, and Spock felt it was time for him to go to the bridge. If Kirk continued his earlier pattern, he would be arriving at the bridge in the immediate future. Spock preferred to be there first. Purely for the purpose of allaying any suspicions Kirk might have regarding the possibility of their plotting against him, of course. So they ended the meeting.
Sure enough, Kirk turned up on the bridge around seven o'clock, as he had done the two previous mornings. Spock did not allude to the fact that he himself had arrived only minutes before, and the matter did not come up. The rest of the bridge crew arrived promptly at eight for the beginning of Alpha Shift, and the morning progressed until ten o'clock. At ten, the comm unit buzzed.
Kirk flipped the switch on the arm of the chair with a practiced air. "Bridge. Kirk here."
Harry's voice came over the line. "Say, Jim, I've got a bit of a problem."
Kirk was amused. So was the rest of the bridge crew. Harry had been on the ship for a few days now. His penchant for problems had already become legendary.
Kirk grinned. "What did you do now, Harry?"
"I didn't do anything!" Harry protested. "The problem is what I didn't do, in fact…"
"You want to explain that?" Kirk hinted.
"I didn't remember today's code to get into the docking bay. So I can't get my bottle of saurian brandy out of the ship."
"Harry, it's ten in the morning!"
"It's for later. Really. I promise."
"Vhy don't you just tell him?" Chekov asked casually.
Kirk laughed. "With you listening to every word? I don't think so. You'd be in my ship before I could say 'Russia.' Turnabout is fair play, but turnabout intruders aren't any fun."
Chekov shrugged. "I thought I vould try it."
"Course you would." Kirk leaned towards the comm again. "I'll be right down, Harry." Kirk flipped off the comm. He glanced at Chekov. "By the way, I don't blame you for trying. It's what I would have done." Then he walked to the turbolift, leaving Chekov to consider that not altogether welcome idea.
Down at the docking bay, Kirk unlocked the door for Harry. The code turned out to be Magellan1521, making it doubly unfortunate that the bridge crew hadn't heard it. Magellan is slightly more unusual of a name than Lewis, and it most likely would have proved useful in establishing Spock's sought after pattern.
Harry had a bit of trouble finding his brandy. As he hunted around for it in his room, Kirk leaned against the doorframe, waiting. And looking around. Strangely enough, he hadn't been back in his own ship in the last three days, haven taken up the habit of sleeping in a spare crewman's quarters, eating in the Mess Hall, and spending his days on the bridge. He found his impressions of his own ship, now that he was back on her, somewhat skewed.
"Seems kind of small, doesn't she?" Kirk commented, glancing at the fairly low ceiling.
"But big enough to lose things in," Harry said without looking up from his rummaging through his spare clothes.
"Kind of dark too."
"Dark enough to make finding things hard," Harry agreed, moving on to digging behind his bunk.
"And sort of shabby."
"Sort of messy," Harry acknowledged, voice muffled, upper body currently underneath his bunk.
"Not quite like the Enterprise."
"Not quite," Harry repeated, triumphantly pulling a bottle out from under his mattress. "Found it!"
"Great," Kirk said noncommittally.
Object of his search found, Harry could think of other things again. "So what were you talking about?"
"This ship. It's not like the Enterprise."
"No," Harry affirmed. "It isn't. So what?"
"So…" Kirk shrugged, not knowing the right words to put to his emotions.
Harry caught on, more or less, anyway. "Hey, Jim…you're not getting, well, attached to the Enterprise, are you?"
Kirk laughed outright at that. "Attached? Me? Never. Attachments just hold you back."
Harry was somewhat reassured. "Okay. 'Cause she's a nice ship and all, but it's not like we're keeping her."
"Believe me," Kirk said, "I know that. So are you done here?"
"All finished," Harry affirmed.
They exited through the docking bay, Kirk locking it behind them. "Now try to remember the codes, alright?" Kirk admonished Harry.
Harry drew himself up to attention. "I'll do my best to—"
He was cut off by a howling siren, accompanied by clanging klaxons, apparently intended to wake the dead. Simultaneously the lights in the corridor began flashing red.
Harry jumped, and instinctively clutched his brandy tighter. He looked around nervously. "What's that? Somebody pulled the fire alarm, maybe?"
Kirk, in contrast, was looking for all the world like a little boy who had just been handed a shiny new toy. "That, my friend, is a red alert."
And then he was off and running for the bridge.
Kirk arrived on the bridge two minutes later, where he was greeted by flashing red lights, a tense bridge crew, and a Klingon bird-of-prey on the viewscreen.
"Klingons should not be in this part of the galaxy," Chekov spat.
"Do you have an id on it?" Kirk asked calmly, a suspicion growing in him.
"Sensors are picking up a name on the hull," Uhura responded. "Seems to be called the…Queen Mary." She frowned, puzzled. "Klingons don't have a ship named the Queen Mary."
Kirk nodded, faintly smug. "I thought so. Stand down from red alert."
Every head swung around to look at him as though he had suddenly taken leave of his senses.
Kirk looked confidently back. "You're right," he told Uhura. "The Klingons don't have a ship named the Queen Mary. And you're right too, Mr. Chekov. Klingons shouldn't be in this part of the galaxy. And they aren't. Those aren't Klingons."
"But that is a Klingon bird-of—" Chekov began.
"And it's old," Kirk interrupted. "Excellent condition and frequently remodified, but old. At least twenty years. The Klingons lost it in battle a few years ago. Those are pirates."
"I do not see that that is a reason to stand down from red alert," Spock said dryly.
"Because I know them. The Cambias brothers. They're not going to attack us on the spot. Although," Kirk added thoughtfully, "I'd keep shields up."
After another moment's hesitation, the bridge crew decided to accept it, and Uhura put the ship at yellow alert, as a sort of compromise. After all, reducing from red to yellow was mostly just a matter of changing the lighting, and didn't really leave them any more open for attack.
"Thank you," Kirk said as he sat down in the center chair. "Now if you would be so kind as to hail the Queen Mary?"
Uhura did. The response was prompt, and two people the bridge crew could only assume were the Cambias brothers appeared on the screen. They weren't Klingons. Nor did they look especially like law-abiding citizens of Her Majesty. Klingon ships have only one captain's chair, and it was occupied by one brother, the other standing next to him. The seated man was dark-haired and dark-eyed, and young. Though he was in the front and the first to catch one's eye, once you looked to the man behind him it was the second brother who took command of the scene. He was not more than thirty, with neatly cut brown hair and a black shirt. He was not the stereotype of the villain who looks as evil as he is, and was, all in all, not unattractive. Except for his eyes. They were dark, fathoms deep, and shifty, furtive. Dangerous. He was the one to watch.
Chekov decided that he would have to suffer a sever mental delusion to trust them or Kirk, but even so he distrusted Kirk less.
"Michael, Paul, how are you?" Kirk greeted them. "I wouldn't have expected you in this neighborhood."
"We have some business," the seated man answered, somewhat vaguely.
"Have you, Paul?" Kirk commented, managing to get the idea across that he doubted they were there by coincidence, but without being so blatant that Paul could say anything about it.
Paul's eyes shifted away. "Look to be in pretty good business yourself, Jim."
Kirk smiled, and spread his hands. "Me? I'm wonderful."
"Yes, well…that's fine…" Paul said, trailing off.
Michael, however, was less inclined to beat around the bush. "We could talk for an hour, but let's get to the point," he said briskly. "We want the ship."
Kirk didn't bat an eye. "That's nice," he said calmly. "You can't have her."
"We'll pay."
"Not as much as she's worth, of course."
"A fair price."
"Whose definition of fair?" Kirk asked.
"We had hoped to avoid, ah, 'aggressive bargaining,'" Paul put in.
Kirk laughed, not entirely humorously. "You know me better than that."
"Very well then," Michael said without apparent regret. "Damaged merchandise you can take is better than merchandise in perfect condition you can't buy."
The brothers clicked off the screen, and Kirk settled back into the command chair. "Now you can go to red alert," he announced.
As Uhura had been itching to do just that for the entire course of the conversation, she was quick to comply.
Kirk straightened in the chair, adrenaline racing despite his calm appearance, every nerve tingling. "All right, I want forward viewscreen on, give me a view of that ship out there. Shields are up, I assume? I want phasers charged, and how many photon torpedoes have we got? What do sensors say about the Cambias' ship? I know they've made modifications, but don't ask me what. And while you're at it, evasive maneuvers, full sublight…" He stopped. "Well?"
No one had moved.
"You're not going to just sit there, are you?" Kirk demanded. "There's a battle brewing here, I need you to do your jobs!"
As senior officer, Spock took it upon himself to answer. "I fail to see any reason why we should," he said flatly.
"Why you should—you don't want them over here, do you?" Kirk asked incredulously.
"One pirate or another. Vhat's the difference?" Chekov asked.
"Notice me sitting here not killing anyone? You don't really think they'd—you don't want to know what happened to the Klingons who used to crew that ship, I'll tell you that."
The bridge crew was unmoved. And unmoving.
Kirk took a deep breath, and when he continued it was calmly. "All right. Fine. You don't trust me, I got that, and I don't blame you. Like I said, I wouldn't trust me as far as I can throw me. But how can it possibly be a trick to want you to defend your own ship?" No one answered and he kept talking. "We're going to have a battle on our hands any minute now. The only reason we haven't been blown out of the sky already is because Paul's dragging his feet, but Michael will have him going in another minute. And then it all boils down to this. You don't have to help me, I can't make you. But I also can't do this alone, and my people don't know this ship even if I could get them up here in time. So I need you. Because otherwise, we're all going to die, that's the simple truth. Or we can work together and make it through this.
"It's up to you."
[ominous music…] So, what will the Enterprise crew do? Tune in next week! I'll try to post again soon!
And for the record, the ship is named the Queen Mary for three reasons. One, I thought it was kind of a funny name for a pirate ship, two, it was the name of the Orion ship in Prime Directive, and three and most importantly, I visited the real Queen Mary once and the ghost show freaked me out. So I borrowed the name for the enemy ship. And I borrowed the name Michael Cambias from…well, let's see if anyone knows. If not, I'll mention it next chapter.
~~~***~~~
Mimi6: I think we all love Johnny Depp…a nine-hour Johnny Depp movie marathon is lots of fun, I know. And the space battle will be arriving promptly next chapter.
Whatshername: Well, you don't HAVE to say brilliant again, but I don't mind…
RadarPLO: Yes, you are jumping the gun, but yes, it is an interesting thought. All will be revealed with time.
Vest-Button: I'm glad you approve. : ) I thought it would be a fun angle to pursue.
Mzsnaz: I'm so glad you liked the "looking-up" speech! I wrote that ages upon ages ago and have been saving it until I got up to that point. My muse was working overtime on that one.
Bug, Hobbit of the Black Pearl: I wish I was on the Black Pearl…not today, today's Sunday, but tomorrow, because tomorrow's Monday…anyway, glad you like, and he is a wee bit like Jack…I don't know how or why, I swear.
MySchemingMind: The girls are not here because I decided a romance would be distracting from the important things. But rest assured, he has many girls in his past. He's Kirk, after all. And I love singing pirate shantys. "Hey-ho, we'll go, anywhere the wind is blowing! Hoist the sails and sing…! Sailing for adventure on the big-blue-wet…thing!"
The Tribble Wrangler: I have a friend who's obsessed with crowsnests. Don't ask. And one reason they stumbled over the subject of Spock was because I tripped and left a line off. Whoops. That has now been corrected. And the goal wasn't to throw him out, it was "I love you, Jimmy, but you're wasting your life, go fix that." More and more and more and a little extra too…I think I'm going to have that, actually…
Unrealistic: Wait…the one thing getting you through the fic? You mean it's not entertaining for its own sake? The ego-which-I-do-not-have isn't letting me accept that as your meaning. Hmm. And tell your brother for me that Kirk, pirate or not, is still way better than Picard and the goal is not and never was to reduce Kirk and bust Picard up a level. Hah.
Emp: Catchy, isn't it? Love the away-message, by the way. The pirate one.