Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Paramount, was created by Gene Roddenberry, and is presently overseen by Berman and Braga. I only have problems with the last bit of that statement.

I left those red alert sirens howling for quite a while, didn't I? Sorry about that, but I'm posting now, and it's a nice long chapter to make up for the wait!

CHAPTER THIRTY

The red alert sirens were still howling when Kirk and McCoy arrived on the bridge. To the uninformed observer, that arrival would have had its odd points. Kirk, of the flashing eyes and leather jacket which was so obviously not acceptable under Starfleet dress code, was given hardly a second glance, his presence unquestioned. It was McCoy, in his Starfleet-issue blue shirt, who received the surprised looks. The bridge crew gave Kirk a glance and then McCoy a longer glance, and then, despite the urgency of the present situation, commenced trying to remember the last time McCoy had come to the bridge. This was no easy task for anyone but Spock, who immediately brought to mind a specific date (three years, four months and six days previous) and then returned to his business.

McCoy didn't fail to notice the surprised expressions, and he gave them all a good-natured scowl. "I wanted to see what Romulans look like, all right?"

The bridge crew considered this, accepted it, and gave it no further thought. There were other things to think about.

"Do you have an ID on the ship yet?" Kirk asked, settling into the command chair.

There was a moment's tense silence in which one could almost feel Uhura weighing the pros and cons, hazards and benefits, of answering the question. "The Tevorak," she said finally, reluctantly.

Kirk looked thoughtful. "Hmm."

"So is that the right one?" McCoy asked.

"I don't know," Kirk said. "And could someone cut those sirens? They're kind of…loud."

Someone cut the sirens, an event McCoy ignored as he stared at Kirk. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean I don't know. The ship's name doesn't tell me."

"You don't know the name of your contact's ship?"

"Nope. Don't know his name, either. His government's not completely thrilled with the idea of the Federation finding out they have human contacts inside the Federation, so it's all very under-the-table, hushed up, James Bond kind of stuff."

"So we have no idea who we're dealing with until we're in disruptor range. Nice," McCoy said sourly.

Kirk grinned, eyes alight with mischief. "I thought it didn't make any difference."

McCoy retreated at once. "It doesn't."

Kirk had of course expected that, even provoked it. He had less expected the chimes of agreement that came in from around the bridge.

"Very true," Chekov affirmed. "One Romulan or another. All the same, really."

"It does seem to make little material difference," Spock acknowledged.

Kirk was taken aback. "Now wait a minute, it makes a difference!"

"Yes, of course it does," McCoy agreed. "Either we get killed, or you get to sell the ship and then we get killed."

"No one's getting killed!" Kirk snapped.

Five doubtful expressions looked back at him. Even from Spock, though of course with Spock any expression was harder to see. Kirk read doubt on that impassive face all the same, and read it correctly.

Kirk slowly looked around the bridge, both surprised and disturbed. "You really think I'm going to just hand you all over to the Romulans without a backward glance?"

The silence on the bridge was a definite affirmative.

"I'm not," Kirk said. "I'm not a slaver. I deal in ships and supplies, not in people, and I'm not giving anybody to the Romulans."

"All right, it's not part of your plan," McCoy acknowledged. "You say it isn't, and I believe you. But I don't think you're going to have a choice. And frankly, if you have to choose between the deal or us, well…" He shrugged, a shrug that gave little doubt he had a poor opinion of their prospects.

"That isn't true," Kirk said quietly. "But there's no way for me to prove that to any of you. I won't even ask you to believe me on faith; I can guess how far that would get me. So we're going to have to wait and see."

The moment very, very easily could have descended into tense silence. But, as so rarely seems to happen in life, fortunately there was a conveniently timed distraction.

Uhura's board beeped. She glanced at the read-out. "Incoming message, prerecorded."

"Main screen," Kirk said crisply. There was no response. After a moment, Kirk turned and looked back at Uhura. "I said—"

"I heard you," Uhura said flatly. "I don't know what you're going to do. But I'm not going to help you."

A faint expression of irritation crossed Kirk's face. Then he shrugged, stood up, and walked back to Uhura's station. He studied the switches for a moment, then flipped a few. The starfield faded from the main screen, replaced by a close up of a solemn-faced man with upswept eyebrows matched by pointed ears. Uhura's brow creased. She looked at Kirk, then back at her board. She pressed several buttons, to no avail.

Kirk was already walking back to the command chair, his back to Uhura, but anyone would have thought he had seen her pressing her board. "I rerouted it to the command chair," he tossed over his shoulder. "Two years of the Academy taught me something."

That was a statement that might have garnered some attention under different circumstances. But under present circumstances, there was a Romulan on the viewscreen, and he was rather more distracting.

He was no Vulcan. That much was obvious. He had the ears and the eyebrows, but he also had lines in his face that bespoke emotions, lines that marked laughter, others tracing the path of past sorrows and present weariness. Yes, this was a man who showed emotions, and even if the subtle facts of his face had not been enough to show that, he made it adamantly clear by beginning with a smile. "Greetings, Jim Kirk. We obtained your message some days ago, and have been awaiting your arrival since. You have had remarkable fortune, and we are hopeful that that fortune may spread to aid our glorious empire as well.

"Undoubtedly you are wondering regarding the recorded message. It is a risk to carry out this meeting, and I have no desire to bring another war upon my people. The less evidence of our meeting in existence for the Federation to find, the safer we all will be. Adjustments can be made in our systems to prevent the recording of any communication carried on, and we are making these adjustments at present; we hesitated to do so earlier, as these modifications also limit our communication range. In any case, it is a simple matter to delete recorded messages, and, once we have completed our amendments, live conversation will also be safe. We shall contact you shortly. Romulan Empire out."

The message ended, and the starfield returned.

"You should approve, Mr. Spock," Kirk said calmly. "That's rather logical."

"Practical only," Spock said coldly.

"Seems to me," McCoy said, "that he's very concerned about not letting the Federation know about this." A pause. "He's not going to want four hundred Starfleet witnesses."

"I don't care what he wants," Kirk said firmly. "I don't sell people."

Silence.

Kirk glanced around the bridge. "You don't believe me, and you're not going to cooperate, are you? Any of you?"

Spock put it into a single word. "No."

Kirk nodded slowly. "All right. I had hoped we could do this more or less friendly. But I guess not." He flipped a switch on the arm of the command chair. "This is Kirk speaking. Harry, O'Riley, I need you on the bridge. Now. Kirk out." He flipped the comm off, and looked at the grim faces around him. "Looks like it has to be armed-camp style. For which I am truly sorry."

Silence descended, a silence that could have grown and grown until it was oppressive and there was no room for anything else. But, probably fortunately, the silence was broken early on.

"So they really do look like Vulcans," McCoy said irrelevantly.

Kirk jumped at the distraction. "Like I told you."

"Kind of amazing resemblance, actually," McCoy mused.

"There are, perhaps, some slight similarities," Spock acknowledged.

"Slight?" McCoy repeated, affronted. "The guy could be related to you!"

"I find that highly unlikely."

McCoy had tossed the relative comment off without think about it. But he was thinking about it now, and having another thought. "Come to think of it, he looks a lot like your father."

"I fail to see a resemblance," Spock said in clipped tones.

"I think he looks just like him. Could be his twin, even," McCoy challenged.

"I believe I am aware of the appearance of my own father," Spock said icily.

Which only served to aggravate McCoy. "Well I saw him last month too, when we were carrying delegates to the Babel conference, and I think they look alike."

"My father is a respected ambassador of Vulcan. This is a Romulan commander who—"

"I'm not talking about their pasts, I'm talking about their appearances!"

"One's past can often work to shape one's appearance, though certainly genetics play a vital role. I find it unlikely that any genetic link exists between—"

"Don't lecture me about genetics, you green-blooded—"

"Gentlemen, this is hardly the time," Kirk broke in.

To the great surprise of the bridge crew, both men promptly shut up. No one had ever yet achieved that. The bridge crew stared at Kirk with something akin to awe. They were feeling more friendly towards him at that moment then they had all day, and there's no telling what might have become of it if Harry and O'Riley hadn't arrived on the bridge just then. This reminded them all very abruptly that Kirk wasn't only the guy who had broken up an argument between Spock and McCoy; he was also the guy who had hijacked their ship and was about to sell her to the Romulans. Hostility returned.

"You've got good timing," Kirk greeted them. "You beat Gray here."

O'Riley looked at him questioningly. "Gray?"

"If I read my Starfleet officer right, there's going to be a line of security guards coming off that turbolift very soon." He glanced around the bridge as he said that. Neither McCoy, Sulu, Chekov, nor Uhura would meet his eye, which told him something right there. Spock met his gaze levelly with his usual expression of somber repose, which told him nothing.

"O'Riley, watch the door," Kirk directed. "Harry, just…keep an eye out."

"Got it, cap'n," O'Riley responded, moving to cover the turbolift doors.

"Sure, Jim," Harry answered.

And then silence did arrive, and stay, for a long five minutes. When the computer finally signaled an incoming message, it was a welcome relief to everyone. Even to the ones who would have liked nothing better than for Kirk to never talk to any Romulans.

He wasn't going to talk to Romulans just yet though. Several things happened nearly simultaneously, almost as though one had triggered all the others, and the possibility exists that it had. The computer announced an incoming message, and Kirk moved to put it on the main screen. Before he could though, the turbolift doors slid open. Kirk's hand moved away from the comm and went straight to his phaser.

The security guards never had a chance. Their one slender hope had been to catch Kirk by surprise, swarm the bridge with half-a-dozen brilliant red security guards, enlist the aid of the bridge crew, and, by sheer dint of numbers, lay hold of Kirk before he could formulate a defense. Maybe it wasn't a very good plan. But when he was armed and they weren't, surprise and numbers were about all they had. Unfortunately, strength of numbers could be effectively defeated when all those numbers had to funnel through one turbolift door. And Kirk had already anticipated their arrival, neutralizing any power of surprise.

O'Riley stunned all but one practically before they could make it over the threshold. One man successfully ducked and rolled and came up past O'Riley, but also came up directly in Kirk's line of fire. One shot, and that settled the last of Gray's security force. The bridge crew slowly sat down again. None of them had had time for so much as a step away from their stations before it was all over.

"Glad we settled that before we had the Romulans on the screen," Kirk said mildly. He was apparently unbothered by being an active participant in the first gun battle on the bridge of the Enterprise in over four years.

"So what do we want to do with them?" O'Riley asked with a jerk of his head to the unconscious security guards.

Kirk shrugged. "Leave 'em, they're not going to do anything. Stay in the doorway of the turbolift though. As long as the door's open the 'lift won't move, and as long as it doesn't move they can't get another one up here with more security guards."

"Good thought," O'Riley acknowledged, moving to lean against the doorframe.

"That's my job," Kirk said with a grin. "And meanwhile, we've got Romulans waiting on the line."

Kirk flipped a switch on the arm of the chair, and the star field was again replaced by the face of the Romulan commander. The same commander, of course; the one who may or may not bear a startling resemblance to Spock's father, depending on who you asked.

"Jim Kirk." The barest ghost of a smile played in the corner of the Romulan commander's mouth. "The chair suits you."

Kirk smiled. "Thank you. And thank you for coming to meet with me."

"Your proposal could be a great thing for my empire. I am aware of my duty."

"A great thing, eh?" Kirk repeated lightly.

The Romulan commander smiled. "A ship of our enemies? A very great thing indeed. What value do you place on it?"

Kirk grinned. "What are you offering?"

"Forty million Romulan credits."[]

Kirk's eyebrows rose. "You insult the ship. Double that."

"Forty-five million."

"Seventy-five million."

"Fifty million. And that is my final offer."

Kirk wasn't intimidated by this age-old bartering phrase, and simply responded with another. "Seventy million. Take it or leave it."

"I believe I will take it."

"Then we have an agreement," Kirk concluded, managing admirably to keep all surprise out of his voice. It was a higher price than he'd expected. He wouldn't have balked at dropping another ten million. Apparently the Romulans really, really wanted the Enterprise. Not that he could blame them, he thought with a faint pang of regret. He pushed that aside. Seventy million credits. He could see that sleek little ship he'd buy already. Harry was practically drooling.

"Excellent, then," the Romulan Commander said, obviously pleased.

Spock quietly left his station to stand behind the command chair. If Kirk noticed, he didn't indicate it.

"How are we going to handle the medium of exchange?" Kirk asked. "We'd have a hard time spending Romulan credits in the Federation."

"We have thought of that. I propose a barter system, using products of value in both empires; liquid plasma, dilithium crystals, warp reactors, and so on."

"Agreed, provided you throw in a couple of bottles of Romulan—" Kirk stopped mid-sentence. In a heartbeat he had his phaser out, aimed, and fired.

Spock was caught with one hand outstretched, fingers bent, scant inches from Kirk's shoulder. He stared, unmoving, at Kirk for a long moment before the stun took its full effect. Then his eyes shut and he slumped towards the floor.

Kirk caught him halfway down. "I'm sorry, Spock," he said quietly. "I mean that." Then he lugged Spock over to his station and propped him against his console in a sitting position. Then he straightened, strapped his phase pistol back on his belt, and turned back towards the command chair. And stopped.

Chekov had left his station and was very deliberately advancing.

"Whatever you're trying to prove, it's not worth it," Kirk said quietly.

"I vill not let you sell the Enterprise."

"You can't stop me."

At that moment, Chekov felt quite certain that there was very little in the galaxy that he wouldn't give for a phaser just then. But all the phasers were in the locked armory or on the Sharks. Or on the… It hit him like a meteor strike. Carl's phaser. He'd been holding it when they knocked him out. He hadn't been holding it when they carried him out. Therefore it had to be in the Rec Room somewhere. This would have been a very, very useful memory an hour ago. As of now, it was nothing but a vain regret, remembered much too late.

All this thinking had taken just about as long as it took for Kirk to draw his own phaser.

"Vhat is the setting?" Chekov asked.

"Kill."

"Liar."

Kirk tipped his head in acknowledgment. "All right. Stun. Which means I'll use it."

"I do not believe you."

Kirk fired. "You should have," he said quietly.

Chekov slumped to the floor and lay where he had sprawled.

The Enterprise computers would have informed any askers that the temperature of the bridge remained unchanged. That fact not withstanding, everyone felt the chill.

Kirk looked around the bridge, phaser drawn. "Well? Do I need to stun anyone else?"

No one answered. Likewise no one looked at him.

Kirk looked around the bridge once more, then nodded. "All right," he said. Then he clipped his phaser back to his belt, sat down in the command chair, and returned his attention to the viewscreen and the somewhat confused Romulan commander. "Sorry about that. Like I was saying—throw in a couple of bottles of Romulan Ale, and we have a deal."

The Romulan commander stared at him, obviously completely thrown off the original track of thought. "I…believe we can handle that."

Kirk smiled pleasantly. "Good. That just leaves one thing then. I need a way to get four hundred people back to the nearest Federation outpost."

The Romulan commander's eyes narrowed. "For what reason?"

Kirk's smile got a bit tighter. "Four hundred people in this crew, and we're not going to make it back to the Federation under our own power."

"I am not convinced that you need to get four hundred people back to the Federation."

"I am," Kirk said levelly.

An edge entered the Romulan's voice. "Generally in exchanges of this nature the crew is understood to be included."

"Not today," Kirk said flatly. "I'm not a slaver, I don't sell people. I may be low, but I'm not that low."

"This is not a matter of slavery. This is a matter of the security of the Romulan Empire, and the handling of four hundred witnesses to a questionable business transaction."

Kirk didn't have to turn around to know that McCoy's expression was smug indeed.

"It's close enough to the same thing that I'm not doing it. If that's what the deal is dependent on, there is no deal."

The Romulan commander hesitated.

"Besides," Kirk threw in, "it's not like they know who you are and could go back to Starfleet with your name. They don't have any proof of what's happening here; the Romulan government could easily deny everything."

The Romulan commander hesitated a moment longer, then nodded reluctantly. "Very well. There is a risk of war, but such is the case no matter what we do today. I myself would sacrifice the lives of the crew for the greater needs of the security of my empire, but I appreciate that you are not bound by the same duty as I. We will do things your way."

"Thank you." Kirk was silent for a moment, then made the observation, "You really want this ship, don't you?"

"Yes," the Romulan commander said simply, "we really do."

And then Kirk asked. It was a simple question, really, perhaps even an obvious one. Also one Kirk had worked hard not to think about for the last week, his thoughts, at first deliberately and in time almost unconsciously, shying away and glancing off every time they came near it. But now he was asking.

"So…what are you going to do with the Enterprise, anyway?"

The Romulan commander seemed faintly surprised. "Dismantle it, of course."

"Dismantle her?" Kirk repeated. If he had ever thought about it, he would have known that was coming. It was obvious. Why else would they want her? But he had never thought about it.

"Naturally. What other reason would there be for my superiors to be so interested, than to give our technicians the opportunity to examine a Starfleet vessel? Do you perchance know anything about the working of the weapon systems?"

"No. Not really."

"And of course we're particularly interested in the shield frequencies."

"Right."

"Well in any case, once our technicians can begin work, invaluable information will begin coming in."

Kirk wasn't listening. Not to the Romulan commander. He was listening to the thousand and one voices swirling through his mind. Some his own, some friends, some enemies, and every one clamoring for attention at once. "Dismantle it, of course." "She's a beautiful ship." "Worth a fortune." "You don't need the gang after you make your fortune. This ship's mine." "Dismantle it, of course." "Nice? She's beautiful." "Do you know what a starship is worth to the Romulans?" "A beautiful ship." "Dismantle it, of course." "Don't you know what that'll mean for Starfleet?" "It's not like we're keeping her." "Dismantle it." "A beautiful ship." "Dismantle it." "A beautiful ship." "Dismant—"

"No deal," Kirk said abruptly.

The Romulan commander blinked. "Pardon?"

"I said no deal. It's off, I'm not selling, I'm sorry I wasted your time."

The Romulan commander was clearly struggling to figure out just what this was about. "You're…you're canceling our agreement? For no apparent reason? Why?"

Kirk shrugged, almost apologetically. "I changed my mind."

The Romulan commander's face hardened. "I can't let you do that."

Kirk was already starting to readjust and gain some footing in this new situation. "But I can do that. I reevaluated the situation, and selling the Enterprise is no longer a viable option. Again, I apologize for wasting your time."

The Romulan commander leaned forward. "And again, I can't let you do that. My government wants this ship very much."

"You can't have her," Kirk said flatly.

"Then I am authorized to take her."

"You don't want to do that," Kirk said quietly, a statement that was as much insight as threat.

The Romulan commander was well aware of that insight. "No, I do not," he said honestly. "But I am aware of my duty to my praetor and my empire." He sighed, a weary sigh. "It is a pity. I like you, Jim. We're alike in many ways. In a different reality, we could have been friends."

"I thought we were."

The Romulan commander's eyes were sad, but firm. "You were wrong."

With that the transmission was ended, and the screen blinked back to the friendly stars and the unfriendly Romulan ship looming among them. Soon enough that ship would come alive with blazing weapons and engage the battle, but for this moment all was still.

The bridge was silent. Kirk had managed to handle the Romulan commander. Handling those a bit closer to home was going to be harder.

Kirk knew, though his eyes remained on the stars, that every eye was fastened on him. The emotions varied widely. The two pirates were angry. The three conscious members of Starfleet were not. But all were united in that they were shocked. And very confused. And staring at Kirk.

The silence, and the tension, were becoming suffocating.

"Someone say something," Kirk said into the silence. "Please." It was just short of a plea.

As was typical when Kirk addressed a group in general, it was Harry who answered. What was not typical was his cold tone and colder words. "What the hell were you thinking, Jim?"

Kirk sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I wish I knew. I wish I knew."

----------

Cyrogenie: Ah, so that's what Stockholm Syndrome is. And yeah, it kinda sorta maybe does make sense.

Gurney Halleck: I have a suspicion that FF has been messing up Author Alerts lately…who knows, it messes up often enough. Congratulations on the code! Regarding Spock, well, if you want to go scrolling through my responses in the past I'm sure I've said this somewhere before…but I'll just say it again it's easier: Spock knows a lot of really random stuff. But human history, especially in this universe, isn't his strong point. Chemistry, math, logic, the teachings of Surak, he's going to know everything. But human explorers? Not very likely.

Crazy Elleth: You only just saw Pirates? My dear, you've been deprived! Lol, kidding…but wasn't it a great movie?

MySchemingMind: "getting their lives tangled up together." Y'know, that about sums up the whole goal of the last twenty chapters…nice turn of phrase. I love your analyses of Kirk and McCoy here, you're getting it very nicely. So either you're insightful or I'm actually writing it well…or a little of both?

Alania: Someone noticed Finnegan! Yes, he's been unconscious in Sickbay, hidden up my sleeve for the last twenty-odd chapters, waiting for the right moment to reappear and reveal that Kirk never killed him to begin with. Definitely, Lowell wouldn't be making first visual contact with the Romulans. This is a situation where another starship and captain stepped in to take the place of the Enterprise and Kirk, because, well, someone had to make visual contact.

Mzsnaz: Yep, the Constellation, not Lowell, see note above for more on that subject. Yeah, Kirk is showing faith in his contact…or he's just taking a risk. Because risks are his business! When man first looked at the stars—I'll stop.

Beedrill: 24, ah, what is happening to Kirk? A very good question. 25, certainly he got his gang's confidence back…that time. 26, y'know, I believe you did say something about Carl causing trouble. Good call. Glad you enjoyed my blatantly stolen parley! 27, as far as I know, it is the same Jones. :) I didn't make the chessboard connection…other than that in the previous chapter I was trying to think of what might be lying around the rec room that Sulu could hit Carl with and I thought of chess because of Kirk and Spock…

Samantha: Note that Gary Mitchell wasn't the last person Kirk killed, so Finnegan could've been dead…but it does jive better if he isn't. And if you're wondering, yeah, I've known he wasn't dead ever since Kirk first shot him. Hope you liked the Romulan scene!

Unrealistic: Sorry…I missed something somewhere…what are you right about? And it would've been interesting for Lowell to wake up…but he still needs that neural treatment. He isn't due to be awake just yet.

And I must be going. More when I can!

[] I have absolutely no idea how much the Enterprise is worth. None. So I picked the number out of thin air, and if anyone does have any idea what one would sell a starship for, please tell me!