Disclaimer: I don't own the Enterprise or her crew, nor do I own the Orions. Not that I'd really want to own a bunch of Orions. They probably smell.
I'm gonna do something wild and different, and answer reviews at the beginning, instead of the end. Isn't variety fun?
MySchemingMind: I'm not sure what you mean about Spock and McCoy having one over on Kirk…they're completely serious about the whole business, definitely. Though if you mean they probably wouldn't really give him to Starfleet, I can see that for sure. Glad you liked when Kirk's being hauled away, I was trying for some drama there. And I had to give Chekov a chance to do something, he's been itching for it the whole novel.
Crazy Elleth: Very good analysis on the situation. Trouble is, Kirk's seeing it the way you set it out, but Spock, so far at least, is not.
Mzsnaz: So that's what ado means. I think I knew it when I thought about it. And what will Kirk do? Read on.
Ael: Amusing translation of "without further ado." I love Shakespeare, taking a class next year. And don't hate Spock, he's trying to do the right thing! He's wrong, but he's trying.
Beedrill: 33: Ooh, someone noticed that this was the first real Kirk-Spock-McCoy scene. I completely agree, the three of them made the show, and keeping the balance between them is essential. Which I like to think I've done by having lots of scenes with two of them interacting, but I figured I needed at least one with all three of them, so that I could get some of that dynamic in too. "What makes your stories good... well, one of the factors at least... is the grasp you have on these characters. You know them, and you know how to use them the way they were meant to be used." There you go again, making my day. And speaking of day-making: 34: Have I mentioned that you have an amazing knack for pulling out of the chapter exactly what I was trying to get into it? Like the various ironies, and McCoy's dilemma, and…well, not so much the chilling Spock line, though now that you bring it up I'm delighted to find out I successfully wrote something chilling. Regarding sympathy for the antagonist: That's an accurate archetype for Kirk in this story, yes, but I'm not entirely sure he's the antagonist. Actually, what it says in my notes is "Jim Kirk—Our hero. And our villain." And more, but that's the relevant part of my notes.
Samantha: I must say, you packed a lot of truth into that one line about shouldn't Spock know…but he doesn't. Straight back to the core of the story, or one of the cores anyway. Oh…and funny you should start your review that way. I wrote the beginning of this chapter before reading your review and…funny. Read on.
ScifiMimi: You're welcome on both counts! A space battle, maybe. Read on.
Alania: Glad you liked the recurring line. I was concerned no one would remember it, after all this time. I actually wrote some of last chapter way back near when that line was first said. Speaking of the phaser, I've heard it said about, um, plays, I think, that if a gun shows up in the beginning, it had better go off by the end. Somewhat analogous.
Unrealistic: The situation does seem to be going a mite downhill, doesn't it? As to how many problems are possible, I don't think there's a limit, though I suppose eventually you'd reach the point of absurdity. Anyway, I'm sure Kirk is wondering the same thing.
PearlGirl: When Kirk doesn't have a plan, it's definitely time to worry. Though it ended up being the time to worry even when he did figure out a plan. I guess Blackbeard had a black beard, I don't really know. Did Bluebeard have a blue beard? And you can consider the suspense alleviated, if you'll just read on.
So much for that. Now for the feature presentation.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" Kirk slammed his fist against the wall of the brig, furious.
As per orders, Gray and his men had taken Kirk down to the brig, where they had at least been considerate enough to put him in a separate cell from Carl and Charlie. Gray had then left one guard behind and gone, with the list of Kirk's codes, to see about opening the armories and rounding up the Sharks. A situation that pleased Gray immensely. The situation did not please Kirk so well.
"Damn it," Kirk said again, gave up on hitting walls and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He began pacing the length of the cell, up and back and up again, in hard fast strides, as though if he walked enough he could find the way out, not just of the brig but of the whole situation. "I was right, I was right from the beginning," Kirk said aloud. "Me, I watch out for me, and the rest of the galaxy better watch out for itself. To hell with Starfleet and to hell with the Federation, and to hell with the whole god-damned business! They don't need me, I don't need them. They'd rather talk to the Orions, then they can go right ahead and do it. Not my business if they want to get themselves sold into slavery. Not my problem either, so they can just handle it themselves. Starfleet, and their ships, and their crews, and their god-damned admirals, and their stupid bloody tests can all go burn in Hell, and I don't give a damn!"
Kirk halted, out of breath from pacing and shouting, facing the back wall. Then he sighed, and all the fire and fury fled. It was a weary man who leaned his arms against the wall, resting his forehead on its cool metal.
"Are you done shouting yet?" Charlie called from the next cell over.
"Yes," Kirk said indistinctly.
He was finished. No amount of ranting was going to help. Because, when you came right down to it, no matter how much he shouted, he didn't mean a word of it. He gave a damn. He wasn't sure that he cared about Starfleet in the abstract, but he was very positive that he did care about the Enterprise, and that he cared about her crew. He'd talked with them, laughed with them, fought with them, and that would have an effect on anyone. Even if they couldn't trust him, he still cared about them. And there was something more to it too. Something had happened to him in the week he had been aboard the Enterprise. When he had told Spock on the bridge that he wasn't the same as he'd been a week ago, it had been true. He'd changed. Or maybe, changed back. Something about this ship and her crew had set him thinking on past dreams and hopes and aspirations and heartaches he had been burying for years. And somehow, in all of that, he'd found a part of himself he had thought was gone for good. The part that knew what really mattered, and what he really wanted out of the galaxy. And what he could never have. And it was that part that told him now just what it was that he had to do.
Kirk pushed away from the back wall and reached into the depths of his black leather jacket. And brought out a tiny type-2 phaser. Kirk looked contemplatively at the phaser lying in the palm of his hand. "You remembered some things, Spock, but you forgot something else," Kirk said quietly. "Pirate leaders never carry only one weapon."
Then he expertly fired at a panel next to the cell door. The panel sparked and smoked, and the forcefield fizzed and died. Immediately Kirk shifted to cover the security guard and stun him, almost before that unfortunate soul could realize what had happened. After that, Kirk's way was clear. He had no intention of releasing Carl and Charlie. Instead, he slid the phaser back into his jacket, and strode down the corridor, making for the docking bay.
On the bridge, things were calm by comparison. Kind of. A casual observer would have seen order, professionalism, and a careful pursuit of business. A more careful viewer would have sensed the tension lurking beneath.
Little had changed since Kirk had been removed. McCoy was still hanging about. Sulu, Chekov and Uhura were intent on their respective stations. Spock had not yet contacted the Orions. Not unlike his strategy for handling Kirk, he saw no advantage in haste. The Orions were not expecting activity for some time yet, and so he preferred to wait for the most advantageous circumstances. Consequently he had used the last twenty minutes to find information on the Orion Syndicate. And so the Orions had not yet been called when a call came from the brig.
The security guard's uncertain voice sounded over the bridge. "Um, Mr. Spock…we've got kind of a problem…"
"Report," Spock said crisply.
"Well, I…don't quite know how to tell you this…"
"Begin at the beginning and proceed through with factual statements," Spock said with a trace of irritation.
It was very clear to everyone listening that the security guard wished the floor would open up and drop him screaming out into space. "Mr. Kirk has escaped from the brig, sir."
Spock grew very still. "And how has he accomplished this feat?"
The security guard, if possible, grew more uncomfortable. "He had a phaser. We guess it was in his jacket."
"I see," Spock said curtly. "Make every effort to recapture him. Bridge out." Spock ended the transmission, with a thoughtful expression. "Of course," he murmured, "pirates never carry only one—"
"Mr. Spock, the docking bay doors are opening!" Sulu announced as his console beeped.
Spock's head snapped up, thoughtfulness gone. "Override," he ordered. "Close those doors."
Sulu tried several controls, then cursed. "There's a ship powering up already. Safety protocols are overriding, the doors can't be closed."
"Which ship?" Spock asked.
"The Sharks'," Sulu answered grimly.
"Lifesigns?"
"One."
"It's got to be Ji—" McCoy hesitated, then decided he meant it, "Jim, it has to be."
"That does seem probable," Spock acknowledged.
"Maybe it's just as well," McCoy said meditatively, knowing his position was hardly Starfleet and not caring. "He doesn't belong in a penal colony."
"That is not for us to decide. That is up to the Federation justice system," Spock said sharply.
Quite sharply, for Spock, and McCoy didn't fail to notice that tell-tale trace of emotion. McCoy gave him a long, long look, and Spock finally looked away.
"He does seem…somewhat…unsuited…to a planet-bound life," Spock said faintly.
"Aha," McCoy said significantly.
"Doctor, this is irrelevant," Spock said tersely, all business and Vulcan reserve once more. "Mr. Sulu, what is the heading of Kirk's vessel?"
"That Class-M planet?" McCoy suggested.
"Rigel, maybe?" Uhura hazarded.
"Risa," was Chekov's guess.
The answer was no one's guess. "His heading…is towards the Orion ships," Sulu said, surprised.
And the situation grew far more serious.
"Are you certain?" Spock asked.
"Of course I am," Sulu said, faintly stung by the implication that he may have made a mistake.
"Fascinating," Spock said softly.
"He is planning to make a deal with them. I don't believe it!" McCoy said.
"That is what appears to be true," Spock observed. "He is clearly on an intercept course, almost certainly with the intention of docking with—"
"Mr. Spock," Sulu interrupted, "he can't be."
Spock looked at him quizzically.
"I know that make of ship," Sulu went on. "It's old now, and was never state of the art to begin with, and it's got some quirks. If he wanted to go to the nearest planet and put her in orbit, I think he could do that. But he can't be planning to dock her. There's only one lifesign, and that ship can't be docked by only one person."
"But if he cannot dock her…" Spock said slowly.
It all came clear to McCoy. "He's not making a deal with them, and he's not on an intercept course," McCoy said hollowly. "He's on a collision course."
"Hail Mr. Kirk's vessel," Spock said at once, moving up to stand by the command chair. He didn't sit down.
"Hailing," Uhura murmured, hands moving over her controls.
Within moments the starfield and the exterior of the Shark's vessel faded to be replaced by the interior of said vessel. And that vessel's sole inhabitant.
"Could you make it fast?" Kirk asked. "I'm kind of busy."
"Mr. Kirk, you are on a collision course for the Orion ships," Spock said crisply.
"Thank you, Spock, I already knew that, but I always appreciate your input. Anything else you'd like to say?" Kirk asked, hand over the control board to end the call.
McCoy stepped in then, coming up to stand on the other side of the command chair from Spock. "Jim, what the hell are you doing?" he demanded.
Kirk's eyebrow rose. "Never let it be said that you beat around the bush, Bones."
"It's Mc—" he began, then stopped. "You know what, forget it. Now what are you doing?"
Kirk stared at him, amazed. "You didn't correct me. I called you Bones, and you didn't—"
"You're about to crash into Orion ships and you're worrying about nicknames?"
"Well now, if you already know I'm about to crash into the Orion ships, why are you asking what I'm doing?"
McCoy gave up. "You talk to him," he snapped at Spock.
"As I said, you are going to crash. Turn your ship around," Spock said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.
"Don't think I will. And by the way, this is a fine time to start worrying about my welfare," Kirk said lightly. "I thought I was the pirate you wouldn't trust as far as you can throw me. And by the way," he added, "how far do you think a Vulcan could throw someone?"
Spock's jaw tightened. "Turn your ship around, I have no desire to see you die."
Kirk laid a hand on his heart. "Spock, I'm touched, genuinely touched. I forgive you for the trust business."
"Mr. Kirk—"
"I know, I know, turn the ship around. Well I won't, because that would defeat the whole point."
"And the point is?"
"Well…it's like this. You can't talk to the Orions. Don't argue with me because it's true."
Spock had picked up something in his twenty minutes of reading about the Orion Syndicate. "It may be," he acknowledged.
"And you can't beat them in a fight. And you wouldn't trust me and follow my plan. So this is the only way left. I take the ship in, set her on self-destruct, explode among them, and it'll take out two or three of them. Leaving the Enterprise. Which is enough, because I've changed my goal again. First it was the money. Then it was to get the Enterprise and myself out of this whole mess in one piece. Now it's just to get the Enterprise out."
Precisely what he was planning to do sunk into everyone on the bridge, and it wasn't met with approval. Surely there was…something else they could do.
"Jim, don't do this," McCoy said.
"Sorry, Bones, but this is something I have to do."
"Why?"
Kirk shrugged, and tried, with marginal success, to maintain his previous light tone. "Maybe I just want to prove to the galaxy that I'm not such a bad guy after all. Maybe I have something against Orions. Hell, maybe I kind of like you people. Or maybe…" He faltered slightly, lost his light tone, but picked up and kept going. "Maybe I just…want to make a difference."
Very quietly and very discreetly Uhura flipped a switch and Kirk's voice was broadcast throughout the ship.
"That's why we're all out here. Isn't it?" Kirk asked. "Because of a dream? Because we want to know, more, see more, go places no one's ever been. And maybe, if we're lucky, somewhere along the way, we'll make a difference. We'll change the galaxy.
"Well, that's why I came out here anyway, originally. But I kinda forgot that, for a long time. And then something about all of you, something about your ship…you got to me. And I remembered. I remembered looking at the stars for the first time, and knowing, knowing, that that was where I belonged. That was where I could make a difference. And that's what it's about. It's not about the paycheck, or the pension plan, or family legacy. It can't be, there's got to be something else. And I have to believe that it's about the stars. And the dream. I don't know, I'm talking too much, but…try to remember that for me, all right? Because I don't think I've got much longer to keep it in mind."
It was a reminder of the present, of the events passing around them.
Sulu checked his board. "Two-thousand kilometers from the Orion ships and closing," he reported quietly. "The Orions haven't moved."
"I believe that's my cue," Kirk said evenly. "Just one more thing. Throw the book at the Sharks, Spock, they've all got it coming, believe me. Except…don't be too rough on Harry. He's a crook and a scoundrel and he'd cheat his own mother if he thought he could get away with it, but…he's not really a bad guy either."
"I will keep that in mind," Spock said, "but at the moment that is a relatively inconsequential matter. There must be another option for handling the Orions."
"There isn't. You know that."
"There are always possibilities."
Kirk shook his head. "Not today, Spock. Not today."
"We could attempt your original plan," Spock proposed.
"My original plan had a crew on this ship. I can't do much in a fight alone, and I can't come back for a crew. Turning back now would tip the Orions off that something was up, and that would be the end of our last chance. Besides, I've only got a minute left on the self-destruct countdown."
"If you shut off the self-destruct—"
"It doesn't," Kirk interrupted. "This isn't the Enterprise. Self-destruct turns on fine. The deactivation doesn't work so well."
"We could lock transporters—" Spock began.
"You'd have to lower shields," Kirk said over him, "and with the Orions around don't even think about it."
"There must be something—"
"No. There isn't. I'm afraid this is it." Kirk looked at the bridge crew, at Sulu, Chekov and Uhura at their respective stations, at Spock and McCoy standing on either side of the empty command chair, and smiled. "Good-bye, everyone. It's been wonderful to know you, all of you. And Spock, Bones, try not to fight too much, okay?"
"Mr. Kirk—"
"Jim—"
Kirk grinned. "I'll be seeing you."
And in the space of an instant, three things happened. A panel on Kirk's ship beeped, very quietly and very inconsequentially. Kirk's eyes shut. The picture vanished.
It was replaced by a view of the Orion ships. Never suspecting a thing, they had never moved away from the approaching pirate ship. Where the pirate ship had been, there was now a ball of flame, one great blaze of glory. It spread hungrily outward, swallowing the nearest Orion ship and licking at the two others as well.
"My God…" McCoy breathed.
Within moments one of the ships was a crazily spinning hulk, fires raging along sections of it. One was nothing but fragments, bits and pieces scattered about, each moving under the drive of its own inertia. The third was barely intact enough to limp away at warp one. The pirate ship—and its inhabitant—was gone.
The bridge crew sat frozen. Frozen in place. Frozen in time. Frozen in a silence so complete that it seemed as though unbroken even by breathing or the beating of hearts. The silence of space. The silence of death.
"He vasn't a Cossack," Chekov said, fighting both the silence and the lump in his throat. "And he vasn't a rat. He vasn't even a pirate, not really. He vas…vas…" Chekov shook his head. "I don't know.'
The answer came from next to the empty command chair. "I know what he was," McCoy said slowly. "He was a captain."