Disclaimer: I guess I own Carl. I don't own anything else. In fact, I'm pretty blatantly plagiarizing one of Chekov's lines. I didn't write it. You'll know it when you see it.
Yes, another chapter! Two, in fact. I'm going to be on vacation over Easter break, so in between doing homework ahead of time I figured I'd get a couple chapters up too, since I won't have a chance for a couple weeks after this. Sorry about that, but in the meantime, read on, and enjoy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It might have been a great deal easier for a great many people if all of the Sharks had just stayed in the Mess Hall and talked of past adventures for the rest of the afternoon. But of course they didn't.
They began to disperse around mid-afternoon. Kirk, naturally, went back to the bridge. Carl wandered off towards Rec Room Two. Reeves went to spend more time with his newfound friend, the Enterprise computer. Harry stayed in the Mess Hall and got more food. None of this was at all unusual and everything would have been fine. Except for one thing.
It was a great misfortune that Carl chanced to still be in Rec Room Two at four o'clock. Four o'clock marked the end of Chekov's shift, and Chekov just happened to head to—of all the rec rooms on the Enterprise—the second one.
It hardly matters who started it and who kept it going, why they started it or what it was about. All that really counts is that it could only end up one way.
"Cossack," Chekov muttered.
Carl's hand slammed down on the tabletop with a bang. "I ain't no Cossack! And what the hell is a Cossack?"
Chekov gave him one contemptuous look and didn't answer.
Carl stubbornly refused to drop the subject. "Well? What the hell's a Cossack?"
Chekov looked at him with a distinctly superior expression. "I vould not expect one of your intellect to understand."
Carl wasn't handling this well, judging by the increasingly red complexion of his face. "That's it!" he snapped. "I've had enough from you!"
Chekov was unimpressed. "Vhat are you going to do? Shoot me?" he taunted.
"I think I will," Carl decided, and drew his phaser.
Chekov was impressed. Hard not to be, since he doubted that Carl had the intelligence to think of bluffing. He raised his hands. "Let's not be hasty…"
"I've been wanting to shoot you for a long time," Carl said, deliberately walking towards him, phaser aimed for Chekov's chest
"And Kirk told you not to kill anyone," Chekov reminded him, backing up and trying hard not to trip over anything.
Carl grinned, a malicious expression. "And when yer dead, who's gonna tell 'im?"
"I think he vill notice," Chekov put in, bumping up against the back wall. Nowhere else to go.
"He'll get over it," Carl said dismissively. He loomed over the relatively slight Chekov, phaser raised, finger on the trigger, setting on kill.
There was nowhere for Chekov to go and little he could do. He was unarmed and Carl had him cornered, and they both knew it. His gaze darted around the room, over Carl's shoulder, and back at Carl. When he spoke it was to say only a single word. "Parley."
Carl blinked. "What?"
Chekov drew himself up to his full height, which was still a good eight inches shorter than Carl. "Parley. I invoke the right of parley."
Carl stared at him as though he had just started speaking Swahili. "What the hell is parley?"
Chekov gave him an indignant look. "According to the Code of the Brethren set down by the pirates Morgan and Bartholomew, vhen a prisoner invokes the right of parley they must be taken to the captain. And they cannot be harmed until the parley is complete."
"Who do you think I am, Bluebeard?"
Chekov's expression shifted to one of surprise. "You are not going to take me to your captain?"
"No!"
The expression of surprise shifted again, to one of shock. "You do not follow the Code of the Brethren?"
"It's the 23rd century!" Carl exploded.
"Morgan and Bartholomew vould not like this," Chekov warned.
"This is ridiculous," Carl muttered, and raised his phaser.
It was then that the base of the 3-D chessboard hit him in the back of the head. Carl slumped to the ground, the phaser skittering across the floor and disappearing under the nearest couch. Chekov sagged, relieved.
"You certainly took your time," Chekov complained.
Sulu grinned, and set down the chessboard. "I wanted to see how long you could spin out that fiction about parley."
"Fiction? It is history," Chekov informed him, as he bent over to get a hold on Carl's ankles.
"What are you going to do?" Sulu asked, watching.
"I invoked parley. That means I get to talk to his captain. And he is coming," Chekov explained, jerking his head at Carl. "Grab an end."
Sulu pulled Carl's arms above his head and got a hold of his wrists. They lifted Carl between them and struck out a lurching path for the door.
"So how do you know that stuff about parley, anyway?" Sulu asked, curious. "Morgan and Bartholomew, and everything."
Chekov ducked his head with an embarrassed grin. "Oh, vell…I liked pirate stories vhen I vas a kid. About the high seas and buried treasures and the sword fights and everything. Pirates vere very different many centuries ago," he said with a frown at Carl. "Besides, parley vas invented by the Russians."
Sulu looked at him dubiously. "It sounds kind of French to me. Sure it wasn't invented by the French?"
Chekov shook his head. "No. The Russians. Morgan and Bartholomew vere from Moscow."
"Of course," Sulu agreed as they lugged Carl out the door. "My mistake."
It wasn't an easy thing to carry a pirate of Carl's, ah, stature through the corridors of the Enterprise. Which is why the turbolifts were such a very welcome thing. So consequently it wasn't too long before they arrived at the bridge and dumped Carl at Kirk's feet.
Kirk looked at them, looked at Carl, and looked back at them. "What happened?"
"He tried to kill me," Chekov announced, filled with righteous indignation.
"What'd you do to provoke him?"
"Nothing!" Chekov protested. He hesitated. "Vell…not very much."
"And how did he get unconscious?"
"I hit him with a chessboard," Sulu volunteered.
"Very resourceful of you."
"Thank you."
Kirk regarded Carl, then nudged him with a foot. When there was no response, Kirk kicked him harder. That finally brought him awake with a jerk. Carl looked around, and hastily scrambled to his feet.
"What happened?" Carl asked, rubbing the back of his head.
"That's what I'd like to know," Kirk responded promptly and sternly.
Carl winced. "It's not my fault."
"I doubt that," Kirk said briefly. "I told you—clearly, plainly and repeatedly—not to kill anyone."
If Carl had been wise, he would have denied having done anything of the kind. Then it would have been his word against Chekov's, which at least would have put Kirk in a somewhat untenable position. Carl wasn't wise. "You weren't supposed to find out."
Kirk sighed. "Alright, that settles it. Come on." He stood up, grabbed Carl by the arm, and pulled him towards the turbolift.
"Where are we going?" Carl asked uncertainly as he was dragged along.
"The brig."
Carl started resisting forward movement, without results. "Aw, now wait a minute, cap'n! I won't kill him, I promise! I'll listen, really, I'll—"
The turbolift closed on Carl's protests.
Chekov's expression was smug. "I told him Kirk vould not like it if he killed me."
~~~***~~~
Yep, it's that love of Pirates again. Had to turn up somewhere, y'know. Alright, on to review responses, then the next chapter:
Cyrogenie: You ask some very good questions. Most of which I don't really want to answer, and therefore only time will tell. I will tell you, though, about the two-person ship. I figure, it's Kirk. He's flying around the galaxy. He wants room for a girlfriend. And don't apologize for rambling on about Jack's expressions. I've been known to do that myself. There's his "Puppy dog eyes, can you hurt someone who looks this cute?" expression, or his "Gee, this is really bad but everyone else is cheering so I'll smile half-heartedly" expression, or…I'll stop.
MySchemingMind1: Oh my. That was very long. That's not a bad thing. Let's see…yes, I'm definitely seeing another "discussion about Kirk" coming up for the Starfleet crew. Kirk herding the pirates like small children, exactly the image I got from that scene. Throwing Carl out of the command chair—definitely, very big moment, on an emotional level. Plot-wise, it was insignificant. But then, most things in this novel are, when you come right down to it. The whole thing's character motivated, really. The "that was stupid" line—pretty much Kirk loosening up, realizing he just made a bad mistake, and, characteristically, accepting it with a grin and confidence that he can handle it. And I loved the phrase about "his girl," that says it all.
Samantha: Y'know, Uhura snuck in there without me noticing. I guess characters do that sometimes. Here I was trying to show Kirk in a good light (as you observed) and show Harry in a characteristic troublesome light, and wasn't really thinking about Uhura at all, and she gets a good scene out of it. Go figure. Thank you so much for the comment about the slow acceptance of Kirk! That's pretty much been the primary goal for, oh, the last twenty chapters I guess. So it's very nice to know it's coming off well.
Anonymous: [calculates] Yeah, I'd say one step. Two at most. Good call.
MySchemingMind2: Yep, a two-seater. Gotta have room for whatever alien/android/computer-generated girlfriend catches his eye next. Regarding the tiny ego, am I sensing a bit of sarcasm here? And he's definitely still maintaining that he'll walk away. But. We'll see… And thanks for the encouragement about writing for a career!
Wedge: Perhaps Kirk is unconvincing as a pirate because, all along, there's been a part of him that doesn't really want to be a pirate? Or we're just used to him as the good guy. Regarding "kill him a little," I have no idea what that means. I don't think Carl or Kirk knew either, though you propose a reasonable possibility.
ScifiMimi: Yeah, I know, Kirk meets Jack. It wasn't deliberate. Really. But there it is. Go figure. More space battles I can promise, background less likely.
Alania: Chekov just kinda seems stubborn, y'know? Like all his insistences on things being Russian inwentions. As for the pirates, if they had more money they'd by something besides drinks. But you don't pick up much robbing bars. Will Kirk really sail away? Do I even know? [smiles sweetly] Maybe.
Hanakin: I dunno what else. Up to you. So thank you.
Mzsnaz: You're behind on reviewing? I don't think so… And yeah, Uhura could probably beat Harry in a fight. Which would be fun to watch.
Emp: Sounds like a useful class.
Steph AKA Datakenobi05: Well, I know you won't read this for quite some while, if you're on chapter five, but I don't know how else to respond, so… Christopher Pike was the captain of the Enterprise before Kirk. He appeared in the first pilot (which was not accepted), which then became The Menagerie. I've noticed the author with the same name. Never fails to amuse me.
Whatshername: [briefly considers hiding in said bomb shelter] Tell ya what. I won't drop an H-bomb on you for not posting chapter eleven, if you won't drop one on me for not e-mailing. I've been insanely busy with schoolwork, as I will be gone ALL of Easter break and therefore an trying to get all homework out of the way ahead of the time. Too much history to read…if you couldn't already gather that from the H-bomb reference; we're studying the Cold War. Anyway, e-mailing, definitely on the agenda to do before I leave. Regarding the chapters, so glad you liked that last line, I was rather fond of it myself. : )
Unrealistic: Soft? Maybe. Cute? Definitely agree there. Wait until you read my next chapter. But then…I guess you don't have to wait, because I'm posting it now. Very convenient.
Onward to the next chapter.