Hey guys! Here's the next installment! Due to popular demands, it revolves around Jim showing off his fighting skills. Hopefully, it meets your guys' expectations. I do have to give a warning though: this chapter does contain more blood and violence compared to my other chapters, so I apologize ahead of time if it makes anyone uncomfortable or upset.
Again, as always, please let me know how I did. I'm (like always) really nervous.
Also, I have listed out three possible options for the next story at the end of this chapter, so please take a look and put in your votes!
With that, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own any Star Trek franchise.
No Into Darkness spoilers.
V
Where There's A Will, There's A Way
It was all Chekov's fault. That was Jim's story and that was what he was sticking with. Not that he wasn't somewhat to blame for his current situation, which actually could have been pretty cool if the lives of his crew weren't at stake.
As it was, Jim found himself holding a weapon that he had only seen in holos - a pair of sais - and clashing against those who stood between him and Uhura's life. For the first time, Jim actually thought that perhaps Sulu had a point to never letting him beam down, because clearly, trouble follows him everywhere.
It started out as a simple task (wasn't it always?) to visit the Kalians - a race that had started developing advanced technology - and see if they were interested in joining the Federation. The people resembled those that lived on Nibiru - pale with large black eyes and extremely pronounced blackish veins - and they prided on scientific knowledge as well as physical prowess. They towered at an average of seven to eight feet and were abnormally built with bulging muscles that a body builder would be jealous of. Their homeland resembled that of Ancient Greece: dirt roads and marble architecture marvels. They were especially proud of the large courts where they gathered to pit two fighters together, using lives as stakes. Such entertainment were an often occurrence and they seemed to revel in the bloodshed.
Jim had blistered at the thought of needless deaths for the sake of "fun". It cut close to a memory of Tarsus when Kodos forced starving children to fight to the death, only to kill the survivor seconds after his victory. Just the mere idea of it had filled Jim's blood with cold fury, but he had a job to do. He had no place to judge another culture from his eyes - he had to see things as they saw it. From what he could tell, being able to fight in these games as the defending champion was an immense honor. It was an entirely different story for the one opposing - usually, it was a form of punishment of definite death.
When Jim, Spock, Bones, Chekov, and Uhura met with the Kalians' Emperor, they were met with decorum and excitement, even though they were forced to hand over all their phasers and communicators. Bones was allowed to keep his tricorder, just in case Jim had an allergic reaction. Though unusual of a race that reveled in bloodshed, Jim didn't question the Kalians' insistence on entering their grand hall weaponless - a goodwill gesture on their part - though he came to regret that decision later.
The Emperor's scientists had worked hard to develop warp technology. Even Spock had to admit that their ridiculously rapid progress of a few decades was a stroke of brilliance of a few people, quite like Leonardo Da Vinci and Benjamin Franklin in their time. So Jim just smiled and let Spock and Chekov talk science with them. It seemed to make them especially happy to talk with geniuses of their caliber.
That was until Chekov, in his excitement, accidentally brushed the right hand of the Empress amidst his floundering, which was a criminal offense. And then, in his haste to apologize, he backed directly into a medium-sized podium in the center of the Great Hall that held the natives' sacred, gold-leaf covered chalice. The delicate artifact tilted off its pillow and crashed to the ground, scattering into hundreds of smaller pieces.
The outraged cry from the Emperor was the only warning the crew of the Enterprise had before Chekov was surrounded by phasers a few inches from his face. As soon as the Kalians moved a single finger, Jim sprang forward, forcing his way in so that he stood between Chekov and the enraged Emperor. Spock and Bones both flanked him, glaring daggers at the Emperor, while Uhura stood directly behind Chekov, covering their backs. Jim could feel Chekov cowering behind him, confused and scared. That alone made everyone in the crew tense with subdued anger. Chekov, being the youngest, had become a sort of mascot among them. His cheery disposition often saved them from a foul or upset mood. He was their little brother, and they were all fiercely protective of him.
"You dare defy our laws?!" roared the Emperor, rising to his feet in a fit of fury.
Jim didn't flinch at the sight of the eight and a half foot alien towering over him. "I'll do more than that if you continue to threaten my Ensign," replied Jim, keeping his tone level and calm. "He meant no harm and as his Captain and superior, I apologize on his behalf."
"He destroyed our Mother Goddess' relic! He must pay!"
"He is under my command. I will take full responsibility and whatever punishment you deem fit."
"Jim!" hissed Bones as a warning.
Chekov was frantically tugging on the back of Jim's shirt, trying to get his friend to take back his words, but Jim ignored them both.
He raised his chin defiantly and his blue eyes were hard with determination. "I take full responsibility for him. Do what you will with me, just leave him be."
The Empress leaned forward from her bejeweled throne and gazed at Jim with fascination and confusion. "The young one's crimes are only punishable by death. And yet, you are still willing to take his place?"
Jim squared his shoulders and without hesitation, "Yes."
After a moment of consideration, the Emperor sat back down and nodded. "You are brave, Captain Kirk, and that is admirable. Very well, I will allow you to take your Ensign's place on the execution block."
He flicked his wrist in a dismissive manner. "Take them away."
"Them? What do you mean by 'them'?" exclaimed Jim as soldiers roughly grabbed his arms and pressed them harshly behind his back.
He twisted, seeing Spock, Bones, and Uhura all shouting and struggling against their imprisoning guards.
"Let them go! We had an agreement!" yelled Jim, "My life for theirs!"
"You traded your life for the Ensign's, not for theirs. One life is not tantamount to four," the Emperor rumbled.
Jim dug his heels into the ground, preventing his captors from moving him anywhere. "Why must their lives be forfeited?! They have done no wrong!"
"The punishment for touching and subsequently breaking our Mother Goddess' Holy Relic is the immediate execution of the offender and his family. You were the one who said that your crew is equivalent to your family, were you not?"
Fuck. Jim had to give him that one, but he would be damned if he let his friends come to harm.
"Kirk, do something!" exclaimed Uhura, already being dragged off by a single soldier.
Spock was being handled by three (which Jim kind of took offense to, since he only had two), while McCoy was being taken care of in a similar manner as Uhura.
Chekov had run off, pointlessly kicking at the legs of the guard that had a hold on Uhura, shouting and cursing in Russian. Jim really had to talk to the young man about his foul language when they got out of this.
"Jim!" Bones shouted.
It had been a while since Jim had actually heard a twinge of fear in his best friend's voice, and a haze of red covered his vision.
With a mighty roar that he didn't think he was capable of, he elbowed his left captor as hard as he could in his right kidney, following by a swift kick at the back of the knees. The soldier went down in a daze while Jim went to town on the one on his right. A few well-placed jabs in the solar plexus and a nice, hard round-house kick to the jaw sent the native flying back a few feet. Without missing a beat, Jim slammed his left foot onto the top of the first soldier's head, cruelly smacking his pale face straight into the marble floor.
"What do you think you are doing?!" screeched the Emperor.
Jim pointed his right index finger straight at the Emperor, a snarl making its way to his face. "I challenge you to a Krav Kali with my friends' lives as the prize."
The Emperor rose, his black eyes glittering in irritation. "We cannot turn down such a challenge."
Jim smirked, "I know. It is written in your laws, is it not? And we all know how much you love your laws. Choose your champions, Emperor, unless you dare to fight me yourself."
"Fine. Guards, take him away and ready him. As for the others, send them to the courts and keep them in individualholdings."
Three more soldiers surrounded Jim, flanking him like Bones and Spock did earlier. He wasn't being treated as a prisoner anymore - just someone they need to keep an eye on.
He flashed his crew a smile. "We're going to be fine, promise."
"Jim, be careful. It will not be easy," said Spock, his tone low and dire.
"When is it ever for us? Chekov, you're a free man, so you're coming with me."
"I hope you know what you're doing, Jim," Bones added, worry written all over his face.
"I always know what I'm doing, Bones. Relax."
"Like I can ever relax when it comes to you. Just, promise me you'll be okay?"
Jim deflected. "Don't let them manhandle you guys too much. You're now prized leverage, so use it against them. Spock, keep them safe, got it?"
"Understood, Captain. And you as well."
"See you all in a bit!" Jim waved.
With a curt nod from the Emperor, Jim was led out of the hall, followed closely by an extremely worried Chekov.
The majestic wooden double doors shut with a loud, resounding thud behind their Captain, as if it was defining the final fate of James T. Kirk.
"So, what the hell is a Krav Kali anyway?" grumbled McCoy to his companions.
He, Spock, and Uhura had been locked within individual jail metal cells at one end of the large gladiator court. They couldn't see past where they had been imprisoned because a curtain covered the outside of their bars - like circus exotic animals ready to be presented to the crowd. As Spock had realized quickly, the bars of their prisons had been modified to have an electric field that sent shocks every time one touched the walls.
The Vulcan was still surveying the cage, looking for weak points, when he answered McCoy. "A Krav Kali is a fight to the death. It is similar to a gladiator battle with primitive weaponry, such as swords or spears; however, there are stakes that one places as collateral. As in something that the defendant is fighting for. In Jim's situation, that would be us."
"I figured that much, you damn hobgoblin."
"Then what are you asking, Doctor?"
"What the hell would a culture that has the beginnings of warp technology choose to fight with swords and outdated crap like that? And why would Jim think that a fight to the death is a good idea?"
"I cannot assume I understand the workings of Jim's mind and therefore I cannot answer that question. I can see logic in his actions, however. The natives seem to revel in these games and it holds great weight within their community. As such, Jim has managed to procure our lives for the moment. Their choice for weaponry could be out of respect of their history. Perhaps they find it more entertaining using weapons that cause a slower and more painful death than phasers."
"Spock, that's not really helping at this moment," sighed Uhura. "You think Kirk can handle a sword? I've seen him fence Sulu once, but he lost."
"Trust me, Jim knows his way around all sorts of weapons," assured McCoy. "He chose to lose to Sulu. He likes to play the 'underestimate me' card a bit too much."
"Like that would help him here. Did you see how he incapacitated his two guards within seconds? I didn't know he could do that."
"There's a lot of things you don't know about him, Uhura. There's a lot of things I don't know, and I like to think I'm pretty close to him."
"So what do you think is going to happen?" she asked, biting her lower lip in worry for their Captain.
"I cannot know for certain, but the most likely scenario is that Jim will have to fight a different opponent for each of us. The Kalians will be the one to choose the weapon of battle." Spock hesitated here. "It will be to the death."
"You've said that, Spock. Kirk'll survive, don't worry."
"That is not what I mean, Nyota. In order to win the challenges, Jim must kill the other. It will be difficult for someone such as him who cares so deeply about life in general."
"It's because he cares deeply that he'll do it without hesitation," Bones said with a sad smile. "If our lives are on the line, do you really think that Jim'll show mercy? The problem isn't how he'll handle killing - it's how he'll react to us seeing him kill."
Loud cheers suddenly erupted around them, sounding like roars of lions defending their pride. Both Uhura and McCoy couldn't suppress a flinch as the curtain surrounding them was roughly drawn upwards, enveloping them an abrupt burst of light.
From where they stood, they could see a huge throng of Kalians sitting in the stands within the circular coliseum. All were pounding, screaming, and raising such a ruckus that it even made Uhura and McCoy's ears hurt. Spock had paled at the thunderous noise, but that could have also been because he saw Jim walk onto the dirt field opposite to them, stripped down to his black Starfleet undershirt.
Their Captain was at least a hundred meters away from him. Chekov stood not too far, shuffling his feet in nervousness. Jim, on the other hand, was a picture of confidence; a cocky smirk was plastered on his face. He was unarmed as of now, and he shot a few surreptitious glances towards the rest of his crew before turning back to say something to Chekov, no doubt reassuring the young Ensign.
The Emperor and Empress then made their entrance, gracefully clunking down on their thrones in the space above and between the crew of the Enterprise.
The Emperor raised a large hand, quieting the crowd. "Gringer, bring Captain Kirk his weapon for the first round of the Krav Kali."
Kirk stepped forward at the same time as a large Kalian - about eight feet and four inches with large criss-cross scars upon his face - walked towards the center of the court. Gringer stopped at a distance where he was closer to Uhura, Spock, and McCoy. He was dressed sparsely with just long, brownish leather pants that was tied up with a belt. Hanging from either side of his hips were sheaths that only revealed the hilts of his two weapons. Around his muscular wrists were leather cuffs and he wore no shoes, like the rest of the Kalians, leaving his strong, web-like feet bare against the dirt ground.
As the crowd cheered at his appearance, he rippled his bulging arm muscles, flexing them so that his biceps looked like mountains. His abdomen was so clearly defined so that one could see his six-pack along with all the other muscles in his torso. He let out an ear-splitting roar that thundered within the massive coliseum.
In simple terms, the alien was intimidating, to say the least, but Jim had seen far, far worse things.
"I choose a battle of sais!" Gringer exclaimed as the cries of the Kalians died down. He grinned at Kirk, showing his wolf-like teeth. "I hope you last for more than a few seconds, human."
With a flash of movement, Gringer flickered an arm out, tossing a pair of sais towards Kirk where it landed harmlessly in front of his feet.
Jim's blue eyes narrowed, knowing full well that Gringer was disrespecting him with his nonchalant manner, but he wasn't going to take the bait. Gringer had the advantage of power and strength, and judging by his first movements, he had speed too. The one thing Jim had over Gringer was the element of surprise. Gringer was so overconfident in his abilities, so arrogant that he would severely underestimate Jim and make fatal mistakes.
So Jim just leaned down to pick up the sais and examined them as if he had never seen them before. The thin, long blades of the sais were shaped like a trident with the middle one extending a full six-inches. The two surrounding prongs were shorter (ranging only two inches) and slightly curved. The sais had a leather-covered steel hilt that was about four inches long. From what Jim could remember, it was an ancient Japanese weapon that was used in Okinawan martial arts.
Chekov touched his shoulder. "Hawe you used these veapons before?"
"Nope. I've seen them in holos though," he answered truthfully.
Jim didn't have to look at Chekov to see alarm spread across his face.
"Keptin, you do know vhat you are doing, yes?"
Jim turned at last, grinning brightly at the young Russian. "Of course. Lighten up a little, Chekov. It'll be fine, trust me."
"I do, Keptin," returned Chekov with no hesitation. "Just...be careful?"
At that, Jim's smile faltered a little. "I'll try."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Chekov's smile was more than enough to brighten up Jim's day. Jim willingly returned it before turning back to Gringer and wiping his face clean of any emotion. He closed his eyes, mentally running through all holos he had ever seen regarding sais to grasp the basics. He shifted, holding the weapons loosely in his hands, wrapping all his fingers around the hilt and pinching his thumbs against the joint between the handle bar and center blade. But he made no defensive or offensive move. He forced his entire body language to relax, making it seem as though he was no threat.
At this, Gringer smirked and glanced up at the Emperor. He nodded once and instantly, Jim felt his hackles rise. Whatever it was that they were planning, he just knew that he wasn't going to like it.
"Bring out the woman!" the Emperor called out.
Jim hissed, stepping forward. "What is the meaning of this, Emperor?! This is not traditional of a Krav Kali!"
"What do you know of our traditions, Captain? You bet their lives. Any Kalian who wants claim to their life can fight for it. And we will start with the woman. If you have any objections, we can execute your crew and you within the hour."
When Jim fell silent, the Emperor waved at the few Kalians who had been stationed beside the captive Enterprise crew. Gleefully, they unlocked Uhura's cage and roughly pulled her out, locking a collar around her neck and leashing her to a chain. Two of them licked their lips in lust as they stared at her lithe body, struggling in their grasp. Her handler tugged on her leash, dragging her behind him until she stood directly below and in front of the Emperor.
Jim's grip on the sais tightened tremendously. When Uhura was forcibly shoved to her knees, his knuckles turned white and a dull rush filled his ears, tuning out the angry cries of Bones, Spock, and Chekov.
The Emperor remained oblivious to Jim's change of temper. "Those who want claim to this woman, step forward."
Twelve Kalians - each as built as Gringer - came to stand beside him; all eyes were upon Uhura, drinking in her gorgeous, subdued image.
The handler jerked Uhura's chain again, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Jeers burst out in the crowd.
Jim gritted his teeth hard, trying desperately to keep his anger in check. "Sorry, Chekov, I can't keep my promise to you."
Before Chekov could even open his mouth to protest, Jim had already strode away from him, coming to a stop a few feet in front of Gringer. When he did, the others instinctively took a step back, leaving them to face off.
Jim flicked his wrist, manipulating his right sai to press against his forearm, and let his knees relax slightly. His entire posture changed - his stance was coiled for an attack at any given time, like a cobra ready to strike down. In an instant, Jim's entire body screamed of danger.
Bones saw Jim's bright blue eyes become so cold, so hardened that it froze the doctor in place, and he could only feel dread wash over him.
"Damn it..." murmured McCoy.
"What is it?" Spock asked, confused.
"They've managed to do the one thing you should never do with Jim Kirk - they've made him angry."
The words sent chills down Spock's spine. He had seen Jim upset, agitated, irritated, and he was very dangerous on those emotions alone. Spock had never once experienced a truly angry Jim, and the thought of it made the Vulcan feel a deep, soul-shaking fear.
McCoy was correct. The Kalians had made a fatal mistake and Jim was going to tear their world apart for it.
The Emperor raised his arms, spreading them as though he was welcoming someone. "May your blood be spilled with honor. Let the games begin!"
In that instant, Jim moved with blinding speed. Dropping low, he flicked his right arm, driving the sai backhandedly into Gringer's right femoral artery. Gringer didn't even have time to react before Jim sprang up, stabbing his left sai into the Kalian's jugular vein.
Gringer let out a bloody gurgle and dropped to his knees. Surprise was written in his dying eyes as he fell over, bleeding out in seconds.
Jim straightened and jerked his sais outwards, flicking off the black blood. He cracked his neck and gave the rest of the challengers a spine-chilling smile.
Shock silenced the crowd and fear crawled into their hearts. A mere human had killed one of their strongest in a matter of seconds - so quickly that some still couldn't comprehend what had happened.
"If you want to live, I suggest you leave now," Jim warned, his voice soaked with venom, as he twirled his sais expertly. "I will not show anymercy."
He raised his right hand, pointing his sai directly at the Kalian who had roughhoused Uhura, and snarled at him. "You, I'm saving for last."
Then he crouched back into a ready position, his sais out in a defensive manner. "It'll be faster if you all just came at me at once."
The Kalians didn't need a second bidding. With vengeance aching within their bones, they rushed forward, their weapons gleaming in the hot sun.
There was a clang as Jim blocked a strike from the left and he ducked a swipe before rotating his right wrist to stab one of the three attackers in his calf. The Kalian fell, only to be met with Jim's knee smashing against his nose, driving the broken bone straight up to pierce his brain. Jim didn't even notice the dead Kalian at his feet before stepping over him to leap at another Kalian in front of him. He stabbed forward and didn't hesitate to twirl around to backhand another, letting the sais slice through two Kalians at the same time. Blackish blood spurted all over Jim, but he ignored it completely.
With no hesitation in his step, he darted ahead and dodged another stab, swirling around to face off with a particularly skilled Kalian. In a rapid succession, Jim parried, blocked, and struck out with the alien, barely missing the sharp blades by a paper's width. There was movement in the side of his eye, but Jim didn't even spare the new attacker a glance. Keeping his attention on the one before him, Jim kicked backwards hard, sending the offender reeling. He made a downwards motion with his right sai, locking blades with the Kalian in front of him, and flicked his wrist harshly. The Kalian's sai went flying away and as his eyes followed the weapon's motion, Jim took the opportunity to twist his wrist upwards, thrusting his sai through the underside of the Kalian's chin.
Blood rained down on him and he had to blink fervently to get it out of his eyes. In that moment, someone landed a lucky hit onto his upper right arm, slicing deeply into his bicep and a little into his triceps.
Jim hissed in pain, but was undaunted by his injury. He rotated and angrily threw his right sai at the one who wounded him. It penetrated the Kalian's skull right between his eyes, and the alien collapsed onto his back with a loud thud.
Jim did a mental count of the remaining Kalians while keeping his left sai pressed against his raised forearm in a defensive motion. There were six bodies on the ground, leaving seven left.
Shit.
He could feel his right arm throbbing and the crimson blood trickling down. A numbness had started to spread, leaving his injured arm almost useless.
Backing up a few steps from the clearly afraid Kalians, Jim cast a furtive glance at Uhura, making sure that she was alright. She was still on her knees; the handler holding onto her chain hard. Her expressions had been laid bare - worry and fear making lines on her face visible when there hadn't been any in the first place.
"Kirk, you alright?" she asked frantically, noticing the slight lull in the heat of the battle.
Her handler angrily jerked her chain and slapped her. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in Jim's ears. For a brief second, all he saw were Uhura's shocked and slightly teary eyes and the reddening mark on her lower right cheek.
"Hey! Hands off of her!" Jim shouted, keeping his eyes on the six standing in a semi-circle.
The Kalian tugged on the chain harder, and Uhura winced. "What are you going to do about it?"
The others lined up before the two, forming a barrier between Jim and Uhura. The unspoken words of "you'll have to get through us first" hung heavily in the air.
Jim gritted his teeth and reached down to wrench his sai out of the dead Kalian's head, hiding the deep ache that the movement caused. "Fine, if that's what you want, that's what you'll get," Jim growled. "I'm going to fucking kill you all."
His entire form changed, completely turning off all defenses he might have had. His feet looked as though they were barely touching the ground; his muscles taut and ready to unleash. In the matter of seconds, Jim's body had become a lethal weapon of sorts.
Then, without hesitation, Jim barreled forward and launched himself at the six Kalians. He struck first, driving the steel butt of his right sai into a Kalian's sternum as he lunged and stabbed his left one fatally into another's stomach. Ducking a swipe at his head, he jerked away and crouched, sweeping his right leg to trip the Kalian that had been winded by his attack. The second the Kalian dropped to the ground, he was met with a blade through the center of his chest where it penetrated through the crack that Jim's earlier blow had created.
A movement to Jim's right, and he was forced to twist around to parry with his left hand. With his arms making an "X" sign and a Kalian's hand caught in the middle, Jim grabbed hold of the alien's wrists. In a flurry of motions, Jim flipped over the Kalian's head and brought the larger being down with him. As both landed hard on the ground, Jim rotated, shoving the Kalian's own weapon through his chest and pierced his heart.
Another Kalian roared and struck out, making Jim jump back, but he lost his footing when he accidentally stepped on the hand of a dead warrior. He felt strong arms reach around under his armpits and effortlessly pick him off the ground, holding him in place with a crushing grip. The last two Kalians smirked and advanced.
"Kirk!" screamed Uhura.
Jim merely grunted in response and waited until the two Kalians were within range. He lashed out with both his legs, pushing off one of the Kalians. By doing so, he made the one holding him stumble. Using his kick's momentum, he flipped backwards, freeing himself and landing on top of the Kalian's shoulders. Snarling, Jim grasped the Kalian's head by the temples with both hands and viciously jerked the alien's head to the right.
There was a loud cracking noise, and the Kalian fell with a broken neck - dead before he even hit the ground. Jim leapt off his back and landed softly onto the dirt floor, still crouched in a ready position.
The two remaining Kalians looked at each other nervously, not noticing that Jim was already raising his arms. With unerring accuracy, Jim threw his sais at the Kalians' head. Both weapons hit the bulls-eye and the Kalians collapsed with sais sticking through their foreheads.
Jim turned around, his cold eyes sending shivers through the Kalian holding Uhura. "And then there was one."
Jim walked forward slowly, but his presence dripped of threat, especially when he casually reached down to pick up a sai with each hand from the prone bodies lying strewn against the dirt.
He stopped about ten feet away from Uhura and cockily beckoned the last Kalian with two fingers.
Though frightened, the Kalian could not back down from such a clear challenge. Roaring, the Kalian ran towards Jim who stood there motionless. Jim let the Kalian come a few inches away from him before springing into action. He smartly sidestepped a downwards slice and countered with a backhanded swipe that cut into the Kalian's back. The Kalian turned around, thrusting his right sai while using his left to block Jim's next attack. Again, Jim danced around his blows, nicking the Kalian in his side. A few more lacerations later, the Kalian realized that Jim was toying with him - injuring him shallowly so that he remained alive. It was a slow torture to the death - Jim's unmerciful punishment for hurting someone he cared about it.
Despite the fury the Kalian felt, there was nothing he could do to beat Jim's superior skills. Slowly and gradually, the cuts became deeper, separating muscle from ligaments, tendons from bones, and severing nerves and arteries. The more Jim twirled around, the more the Kalian bled and suffered, until finally, the Kalian could take no more.
He fell to his knees, "Mercy," he begged, with tears streaming down his face. "Mercy."
Jim sauntered up to him, his face hardened. Without answering, Jim just thrust his left sai through the top of the Kalian's head. He let go, letting the Kalian fall over onto his side, blooding oozing out around the buried sai.
Never before had Bones, Spock, Uhura, or Chekov seen such a show of brutality from their Captain. They could barely even believe that their bright-eyed, carefree, and lighthearted friend could be so vicious. It was hard to overlap this newest side of Jim with what they already knew of him, but he was fighting for them, to protect them. And that was enough for them to discard any fear they may have had about him.
The tension in Jim's body didn't fade away after he had defeated all his opponents though. He bent down, rummaging through the Kalian's pocket before pulling out a single, golden key.
He straightened, scornfully tossed away his remaining sai, and barked out, "Chekov!" as he started to walk away from the battlefield.
Chekov came running, his face pale and tinged slightly green. Jim tossed him the key as he passed by.
"Get Uhura," he said simply.
Chekov nodded shakily and did as he was told while Jim turned to face the deathly silent crowd.
"You wanted blood? You got blood. This is what you get for threatening my crew, Emperor." He smiled icily. "May your blood be spilled with honor," he said caustically and bowed without sincerity.
And he arrogantly strode off the field to let the Kalians clean up the bloody chaos he had left behind.
When Uhura and Chekov joined Jim on his side of the field, Jim was sitting on a bench in the dark of his room. He was leaning over, his forearms resting on his thighs. His hands hung between his legs, trembling slightly. Sweat dripped down his brow and neck, mixing with the Kalian's black blood. He kept his head ducked, staring at the ground.
With the deafening silence, Uhura and Chekov could hear Jim's harsh panting clearly.
"Kirk?" Uhura asked gently.
At her call, Jim slowly raised his head, running his left hand through his hair. There was a haunted look in his blue eyes as he glanced at them, exhaling hard. He looked tired, as if he had aged a couple of years in that one fight. Subtly, he shifted to hide his shaking hands from his crew.
He plastered a smile on his face. "Hey."
That fake smile was so wrong on Jim. It was strained, tortured. It didn't belong on someone like Jim - not when it came to them.
With a huff, Uhura descended on Jim, reaching for him. When she first touched him, he flinched, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she just tore off his right sleeve and tossed it to Chekov.
"Wrap his arm up. Do it tightly so this idiot doesn't bleed out before he saves Spock and McCoy," she instructed before moving to his other side and tore off his left sleeve.
While Chekov obeyed her, she crumbled up Jim's sleeve in her hands and dabbed at the blood around his face, wiping it clean of the ugly black color.
Through all this, Jim didn't say a word or make a sound, save for the small hiss when Chekov tightened the makeshift bandage on his arm. But the tension in his body slowly bled away and a genuine smile found its way until his face.
Uhura couldn't help it and smiled back. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Kirk, but you kick ass. Clearly they chose the wrong weapon."
"Actually, I've never handled a sai before," Jim smirked, his usual cockiness shining through.
It was relieving on both ends that nothing had changed, despite what Jim had done.
Uhura's jaw dropped. "You've got to be shitting me. There's no way you could've fought that well without prior experience!"
"I did watch some holos back in the Academy."
"You can't be serious. That was like five years ago! How can you still remember them?"
Jim tapped the side of his head with his left hand. "Eidetic memory, remember? And I'm a genius. You seem to always forget that fact."
"So you just 'browsed through your memory bank' and picked up the techniques like that?" She snapped her fingers at the last word.
"Yep," Jim beamed.
"Unbelievable. Just...unbelievable."
"Not just a farm boy, am I?" grinned Jim.
"How come you lose to Hikaru then, Keptin?" asked Chekov, sitting down next to Jim, letting their shoulders touch. "You are much better fighter."
The feel of Chekov beside him humanized him, pulling him out from the killing haze he was trapped in.
He playfully ruffled Chekov's hair with his left hand. "I can have off days, can't I?"
Chekov frowned, remembering the Krav Kali again. "Keptin, vill every fight be like this one?"
Jim leaned back slightly, letting his breathing regulate. "Hmm. I don't think so. Not after the show I put on. Besides, can you see anyone want to claim Bones? That man has the outer covering of a porcupine. And Spock? No one can survive his 'eyebrow of death'."
Both Uhura and Chekov giggled.
A horn interrupted them and Jim's amusement instantly disappeared as he got to his feet. Steel reentered his gaze, along with uncertainty - uncertainty of allowing his brutality be shown to his friends again. He knew better than anyone how terrifying he could seem while in the throes of battle; it wasn't something he was comfortable letting Uhura and Chekov - two relatively innocent people - see over and over again.
Uhura and Chekov understood perfectly, but they weren't about to let him run from them. Both stood and positioned themselves at his sides.
"For a genius, you're really stupid. We're not letting you go out alone," Uhura said, knocking her shoulder against Jim's. "So this lone wolf act you're pulling? It's not going to happen."
"Da, ve're family," Chekov added, smiling brightly at his big brother figure. "Through thick and thin, yes?"
Jim felt a little baffled and it clearly showed on his face.
Uhura shook her head in disbelief. "We're going to have to spell this out for you, don't we? Stop thinking so much, Kirk. We know you. You're the arrogant, lecherous James T. Kirk who never takes no for an answer," Uhura's tone was light and amused, but it turned soft and somber, "But you're also the kind of person who will fight through hell and back to save those he cares about. We've always known this, Kirk. Nothing's changed."
"I just killed twelve Kalians in cold blood. And you're telling me that that doesn't bother you in the slightest?"
Chekov shook his head, his curls bouncing comically. "Nyet, because if it vere me, I vould do the same."
The horn blew again, sounding almost impatient.
Jim sighed. "I'm going to make you guys take psych evals as soon as we get back, because clearly, there's something wrong with you two." He cracked his neck and stared determinedly out into the distance where he knew his next opponent was. "But we should probably save Bones before he decides to hypo me out of spite."
Flanked by the two of them, Jim confidently strode onto the field. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, he caught sight of a large sword sticking out of the ground, like the whole Merlin-Arthur-Camelot legends. It had been placed closer to Jim's side, so that he only had to walk a few paces before he reached it.
But Jim made no movements towards it. Instead, he calmly looked over to the other side where Bones and Spock were locked up. There was a rush of smug satisfaction when Jim realized that none of the Kalians had dared to mistreat one of his people like they had with Uhura. He turned his calculating eyes upwards to rest upon the Kalian Emperor. The Emperor's lips were pressed tightly into a thin line; his hands were curled in fists and his eyes had narrowed.
Uhura tugged at his arm subtly, noticing the same thing as he did. "Kirk, the Emperor doesn't seem very pleased with how this is all going."
He almost snorted. "I just killed twelve of his best fighters. Of course he's pissed."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying, he may not uphold his end of the bargain now."
Jim paused. "I know. I had that figured from the beginning. But don't worry, I have a plan."
"And when is this plan going to kick in? Because so far, it doesn't look good for us. There's no way we can fight our way off this planet, even with you. And we have no communicators to just beam out."
Jim just grinned at her. "Where there's a will, there's a way." And promptly strode off, leaving behind an exasperated Uhura.
He stopped before the steel sword and took in its dimensions. The double-edged blade looked as though it was approximately forty inches long; the hilt was a two-handed cruciform with a red pommel.
He wanted to laugh. Scotty would have had such a kick out of this: it was a claymore - a Scottish broadsword. This, Jim was familiar with, but this type of longsword was heavy. Usually, it was about five to six pounds, which wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't for the fact that his right arm had numbed and was practically useless because of his injury. Not that he'd show it, of course.
Ignoring the weapon for now, he eyed the Emperor. Jim knew he had to play his cards right if his plan was going to work. He needed to free Bones next, or things would get a bit trickier.
Knowing full well that the ruler was displeased with him, Jim called out, "Are we fighting for the other human? Or should you just let him go now and save yourself the trouble?"
The Emperor roared in anger, rising to his full height, not even knowing that he had just played right into Jim's hands. "You will fight for him, as dictated by the laws of Krav Kali! Come out, Rigo!"
A burly Kalian, though more finely tuned than Gringer, entered the coliseum from behind Spock and McCoy. He too, was clad in just leather pants with leather wrist guards, but he also had on a brown band around his forehead. Hung from the side of his belt was a claymore - larger in size in comparison to Jim's.
Jim cocked his head, taking in his new opponent. "And why do you place claim on my friend's life? He's only human," he asked, honestly curious. "I thought you guys would prize the Vulcan more."
Rigo drew his weapon, and blinked owlishly at Jim. "The human is pleasing to the eyes," he rumbled.
"What?!" yelped McCoy from his cage. "I don't swing that way, buddy!"
Immediately, Jim could hear chortles behind him and he had to work so hard to hold his own laughter back. Oh, Jim was never going let Bones live this down.
Shaking his head, Jim sauntered up to his weapon and placed his left hand onto the hilt. "Lucky for you, Bones, he'll never get the chance to truly 'admire' your prettiness," he called out, the innuendo making Bones' cheeks flush red with either anger or embarrassment. Jim liked to think it was a bit of both.
With one strong heave, Jim pulled his claymore straight out of the ground and directly into a ready position. His feet were spread apart, his left a foot in front of his right. His left knee was bent slightly and his right was kept flexibly straight. Raising the claymore, he pressed his left elbow close to his body and pointed the weapon directly at the Rigo; his right hand held the end of the hilt, his elbow crooked to support the weight of the sword.
Spock frowned and leaned forward to get a better view from his cage. "I was not aware that the Captain is left-handed."
McCoy shook his head. "He's not. Something's wrong with his right."
"Should we be concerned?"
"You'll be surprised at how competent Jim is with his left hand. I actually thought he was left-handed for a while. Bastard likes to play with people's heads."
Spock turned his attention back to Jim, contemplating. "Fascinating."
McCoy snorted," Damn green-blooded bat can't even properly show admiration..."
Spock raised an eyebrow at McCoy. "Doctor, the match for your chastity is about to begin," he returned in a calm and even voice.
Before McCoy could even splutter with indignation, a horn blew and the battle for him had started.
Unlike the first time, Jim didn't immediately strike. He held his position, waiting for Rigo. The Kalian lumbered forward, much slower than Gringer, but still fast enough to be considered threatening. As he did, he swung his claymore several times, letting the steel blade twirl around him like it was a simple toy.
Automatically, Jim began calculating. Based on the whistling noise his claymore was making, Rigo was far stronger than Gringer, which meant that Jim had avoid any direct hits. He was skilled (of course he was) and he also knew to not underestimate Jim, so that advantage was out of the window. However, Jim had speed and he could use his smaller body to throw off Rigo's rhythm.
Rigo tested the waters by cleaving downwards at Jim's head. Jim sidestepped it by the bare minimum, jerking his right shoulder back slightly before moving to strike Rigo's now open underarm. The Kalian pivoted fast, bringing his sword to parry with Jim's. The impact of Rigo's strength traveled through their swords, sending painful vibrations straight to Jim. He gritted his teeth, his hands almost letting go of his weapon at the weight of Rigo's hit, but he held fast and turned. Crouching slightly, Jim swirled around, using his body's momentum to slice Rigo's back. Rigo blocked it easily, but missed Jim's right leg coming up high and landing a heavy hit on the side of his neck.
Rigo stumbled and Jim sprang into action. With his left hand, he swung his sword in wild, but calculated movements that forced Rigo to leave certain openings where it would instantly be met with hard kicks and jabbing elbows. Rigo could barely process the speed at which Jim moved at. All he knew was that his body was beginning to ache. Despite the fact that Jim was a mere human and his strength was tantamount to a teenage Kalian, Jim had such precision that his physical blows landed on the same areas over and over again, creating bruises and hematomas in his joints and over his vital points. He was hard-pressed - forced to defend instead of attacking. Quickly, Rigo had been pushed into a metaphorical corner, fighting tooth and nail against Jim.
Both swords flashed brightly against the sun, clashing and clanging. Jim lunged forward, sword centimeters away from stabbing Rigo, and Rigo jumped back, blocking and flicking back a counter that was easily parried away. Jim used Rigo's own momentum against him and suddenly backed off at the right moment, making Rigo flail for a brief second before Jim jammed the back of his hilt against Rigo's chest. Rigo sliced downwards, even as he stumbled back a few steps. Jim hefted his sword to meet Rigo's a few inches from the ground and heaved upwards hard. His actions knocked Rigo's sword harmlessly away and threw the alien off-balance. Instantly, Jim was in his space, his claymore dangerously close to Rigo's neck.
The crew of the Enterprise thought Jim's victory was in the bag, but luck was not on Jim's side (when was it ever?). One of Rigo's floundering arms accidentally struck Jim's injury, eliciting a sharp gasp from the human. Instinctively, Jim's body curled to protect his arm and his claymore lowered a couple of inches. That second of weakness was enough for Rigo to take the upper hand.
Rigo grasped Jim's sword by the blade and pulled Jim towards him. Angrily, Rigo head-butted Jim and when the latter was left dazed and reeling, he reached for Jim's subconsciously outstretched right arm. With his hand wrapped tightly around Jim's wrist, he aimed well with his right, jamming down the steel hilt of his heavy claymore onto the center of Jim's forearm. There was a loud cracking noise, followed by a ragged scream of pain. Rigo didn't hesitate and flipped his claymore. The flat of the blade caught Jim in his abdomen and like a baseball, Jim was flung a good twenty feet towards the cages.
He tumbled and turned, rolling to a stop on his stomach close to Spock and Bones. For a heart-wrenching second, Jim didn't move, even as Rigo stepped slowly towards him, picking up Jim's claymore that he long ago dropped.
"Jim! Get up, Jim!" yelled Bones. "Come on, kid!"
Spock leaned against the bars of his cage, forgetting that he would be shocked, to reach uselessly towards Jim.
Jim weakly pushed himself up on his left arm, visibly struggling. His right arm was on fire, burning and screaming with pain. The lateral side of his forearm was going numb and he couldn't even move his index and middle fingers well anymore - Rigo had fractured his radial bone.
Adrenaline rushed through his veins and Jim forced himself onto all fours. Well, on all three, because his right arm was wrapped tightly against his stomach where he was quietly trying to clamp down on the bleeding that had started while keeping it immobilized at the same time. That fucking bastard had twisted his sword at the last moment, cutting Jim shallowly, right above his navel.
Vaguely, he could hear Bones shouting at him, Uhura and Chekov screaming for him, and Spock's huffs of pain as he banged against the bars of his cage. For everyone to be so frightened, so worried, it was just simply unacceptable.
Jim pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly as pain ate away at his usually bright mind. He watched, almost detachedly, at Rigo advancing on him, swinging both of their swords in either hand. A large smirk had found its way onto the Kalian's face and Jim found himself wanting, more than anything, to wipe it off, but his body wasn't properly cooperating.
Fuck it all.
Jim purposely jolted his broken arm, just a little, sending shooting pain throughout his glazed mind. It woke him up briefly, but it was enough for Jim to plan a few steps ahead. He moved his legs shoulder-width apart in anticipation, his knees slightly bent. Rigo didn't notice any changes and raised both swords, crossing his hands, as if he were going to scissor Jim in half.
As Rigo tried to trap Jim between the two blades, Jim leaned backwards as far as he could, pulling a Matrix sort of move. He grunted in exertion as he watched the swords close with a snap a breadth's width from his nose. Gravity kept pulling at him and he tilted his head back, pressing his left hand onto the ground. With strength that he didn't think he had anymore, Jim pushed off the ground with his legs and kicked Rigo's hands hard as he made a one-handed backwards flip.
Pain combined with shock made Rigo lose his grasp on the claymores, both flying a distance away. One landed an inch away from Jim's feet and he didn't even hesitate before lunging towards it. Whether or not Rigo was frozen by awe or fear, Jim didn't really think about it when he ran Rigo through.
Blood sprayed everywhere even as time seemed to stop. Rigo still stood, disbelief in his eyes as he looked down at the sword buried within his upper abdomen while Jim remained locked in his lunging position. It took a moment, but Rigo finally collapsed onto his knees, black blood bubbling out of the side of his mouth. Jim didn't release him - instead, he violently jerked out his claymore, slicing upwards as he did.
Rigo was dead before the longsword was completely out of his body.
Jim took a couple of steps back. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, to control the agony that was rearing its ugly head. His brilliant blue eyes - slightly glazed by pain - turned to face the Emperor.
The crowd was silent, unable to even produce a sound. Anger and sorrow glittered on every Kalians' face.
Jim scornfully stabbed his claymore upright into the dirt behind Rigo's head - a headstone for the fallen Kalian - and raised his arms in a clear sign of triumph.
"Release my friend, Emperor," Jim called out, his voice low and strong.
The Emperor's face turned dark purple with fury, but lifted his hand to signal to a Kalian placed by the cages.
The moment McCoy was released, he barreled forward, reaching for Jim. Bones grasped Jim's upper arm - the unbroken one - and started leading his best friend off-field. He could feel Jim trembling in his hand, see the sweat dripping down his face, and hear him struggle to even his breathing, but Jim refused to show any weakness before the Kalians and held himself high and confident - probably through sheer willpower alone.
"Damn it, Jim," he said, his tone so soft and gentle.
Jim just cracked a weak smile at him. "Good to see you too, Bones."
Jim kept up the act, even when Uhura and Chekov ran up to them. It was only when he was ushered into his ready room when his wobbling knees gave out on him.
He could feel himself falling, but arms reached out to grab him and dragged him forward so that he was sitting on the bench. He winced as he felt Bones gently prodded at his arm and the tender skin around his stomach.
"Uhura, go find a stick or something so we can splint this idiot's arm. Chekov, get some water for him," McCoy barked out. "Kid, you better still be with me, because I'm gonna lug you back onboard where a line of hyposprays is waiting for ya."
"Bones, your tricorder," he rasped out, nodding out thanks to Chekov who rushed to him with a bottle of water.
Bones cursed as he rummaged through his pockets, wanting to kick himself for not remembering it in the first place. He pulled it out, but before he could even run it over Jim, Jim snatched it out of his hands and tossed it to a bewildered Chekov.
"Keptin?"
"Just like I taught you, Chekov," Jim said, bending down to pull out his boot knife. He ignored Bones' "I can't believe you fought with that damn death trap against your leg" and handed it hilt first to Chekov. "Use this to cut the wires."
Recognition lit in the young genius' eyes, and he quickly took Jim's knife and settled into a corner, tearing apart McCoy's tricorder.
"What the hell, Jim? You gonna explain?" grouched McCoy as he tore off his own sleeves to bind Jim's injuries.
"Nope," Jim smiled.
He hissed as McCoy tightly bound his fractured arm between two sticks.
"Don't be an infant. It's hardly broken."
"Good to know. I'd hate to fight with a really broken arm," retorted Jim, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
He meant it to be a light-hearted statement, but the moment the words escaped him, the tension in the room became suffocating.
All the worry that McCoy had kept hidden came bubbling up to the surface, and he haggardly ran his fingers through his short hair. "Look, Jim. You know as well as I that you're gonna die if you go out there to fight again. And I just can't let you do that."
Jim's expressions grew somber. "Would you condemn Spock to die then?" he asked softly.
From the corner of his eye, Jim could see both Uhura and Chekov still, pretending as though they weren't listening in to their conversation.
Bone let out a rough exhale. "You know I don't mean that either. Despite our differences, that hobgoblin has kept you out of trouble and alive more times than I can thank him for. But Jim, you have to know your limits! Can you really fight with a broken arm and wounds that won't stop bleeding?! Can you win?"
"I have to, don't I?" Jim gave him a small smile. "It's not that bad. I've fought with worse conditions before."
And he really had. This didn't even make the top five list of worst possible scenarios that Jim had faced.
He got to his feet, using Bones' arm as support. "Don't worry, Bones. I have a plan."
"You always have a plan. Which plan are we on now? M? W?"
Blue eyes glittered with amusement and genius. "Actually, we're on plan E."
Bones rolled his eyes. "Great. Like that makes me feel any better."
"At least we're not on M or W like you thought we were, you grouchy, grouchy man."
The anticipated ominous sound of the horn echoed again.
Jim glanced at Chekov. "Keep working on that. I'll buy you some time. Come out as soon as it's done," he commanded, his Captain tone making the young man straighten subconsciously.
"Yes, sir!" he replied back.
"Uhura, keep him company. And by that, I mean: don't let any of the Kalians know what he's up to."
"Understood, Captain." She leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek. "Come back safe, got it?"
Jim smiled, knowing that there was no time for any innuendos or inappropriate comments. "I'll try my best, Lieutenant. Well then, I'm off for round three. Wish me luck!"
When he turned around, his smile dropped off his face. A familiar sense of apathy was crawling in his insides. He wasn't a cold-blooded killer; he hated the feel of blood upon him. But he was the Captain of the Enterprise. There was so much blood on his hands – either by his own will or making a mistake and causing deaths of his people. And here, at this moment, he could feel himself withdrawing within himself, hiding from the disgust he felt. The worst thing was, he knew that he was reverting back to a persona that only existed on Tarsus, and he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. That scared him more than anything.
Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps next to him pulled him away from his thoughts. Instantly, the dark pressure on his chest lightened up a little. He didn't bother acknowledging Bones' presence as they both walked towards the battlefield. For him, it was like breathing to have Bones fall in step with him, walking side by side with him. If there ever came to be a day when Jim didn't have Bones beside him, Jim was sure that his entire world would fail to exist. With his shitty past, there were times when Jim didn't know if he was just a ghost or if he was even human anymore. Bones grounded him. Made him feel wanted and that he belonged somewhere; that he meant something to someone.
And Jim drew strength from that, locking J.T. back into the darkness where he belonged.
He wrapped his left arm around Bones' shoulders, careful to not jar any of his injuries. "Glad you're with me, Bones."
"Where else would I be?" replied Bones gruffly. "I followed you to this damn, alien-disease infested planet, didn't I? Someone's gotta make sure you stay alive."
Jim chuckled, the noise sounding strained, even to his ears.
"Uhura and Chekov okay?" McCoy asked knowingly.
"Yeah, I think so. I'm making them take psych evals when we get back though."
"I'm making you take a psych eval, you dumbass. Only an insane person like you would keep taunting an Emperor of a belligerent race."
A pause as the rays of the sun reached them.
"You okay, Jim?"
Jim knew he wasn't talking about his injuries.
"Better than I should be," he replied truthfully. "It helps to have you guys around."
"You're an idiot. We're always going to be around, even if you don't think so."
Jim looked away, seeing nothing but dirt and bloodstains. "I'll believe it after this is all over."
Bones didn't get a chance to say anything else. All he could do was watch his best friend walk to his possible death.
And he hated himself for not being able to do anything.
When Captain Kirk walked out onto the field for another match, he was met with utter silence. No cheers, no boos. But he could feel the hateful glares stabbing him as he marched forward to the center where he stopped before a brawny Kalian. Like others before him, he was shirtless. He had arm guards spreading from his wrists to his elbows. On his hands was a claw-like weapon that fit right over his knuckles. Four curved blades were affixed to the glove, making the entire thing look like a tiger's claws, which was the weapons' nickname in the common tongue.
"I challenge you to a match of bagh nakh," the Kalian said before tossing Jim a pair.
The Kalian had aimed well so that the claws would pierce Jim's hands if he caught them wrong, but Jim wasn't fool enough to be hasty. He easily timed it so that the claws made an extra revolution before he easily snagged the weapons out of the air and placed them on.
As he did, he eyed the Kalian. "So, what are you called?"
"They call me Wretin."
"Are you sure you want to do this, Wretin? You will die."
A wicked, cold smile spread upon Wretin's face. He was confident – more so than the others – and he had such bloodlust that Jim felt a twinge of nervousness.
"Captain, it will not be me who dies," cackled Wretin.
Jim just crouched into a ready position and curled his hands into fists around the bagh nakhs. "Only one way to know."
Wretin moved first. He quickly invaded into Jim's space and like a boxer, began to jab and punch wherever Jim had an opening. Jim ducked, dodged, and parried the strikes, keeping the sharp blades centimeters away from his skin. He took a step back to avoid an uppercut and was forced to swing violently to his right to miss the claws slashing through his injured arm. Wretin immediately followed with a swipe to the same arm, narrowly missing again.
Jim danced around, ducking another jab to his right arm. Wretin was targeting his injuries and Jim was having difficulties countering it. To put some distance between him and Wretin, Jim kicked out, but Wretin just grabbed his leg. Jim jumped, twisting his body to slam his left leg against Wretin's head. The Kalian grunted and dropped Jim, but not before he rotated his hands, leaving behind shallow cuts on Jim's ankles.
Red blood slowly dripped down, covering Jim's shoe, but he paid it no attention. He could barely even feel the stinging above the deep aching of his arm and he leapt up, slashing downwards with his left arm. The slightly dazed Kalian couldn't react fast enough to dodge completely. He roared as the tips of Jim's claws scraped through his skin and fascia, nicking the top layer of his torso muscles.
With no pause in his movements, Jim elbowed Wretin in his stomach with the same arm and immediately followed with a swift kick to the alien's side. Pushing his body to its limits, Jim didn't let himself stop with the attacks. A stab here and a kick there; he was making it hard for Wretin to make a move, but he wasn't doing much else. He couldn't land a hit on Wretin, let alone kill the Kalian, and his strength was waning quickly.
A touch of panic flickered in Jim's gut and for the first time since this entire debacle started, he doubted his abilities to win. His highly imaginative mind wandered, flashing images of Bones, Spock, Uhura, and Chekov dead – scattered around him with their lifeless eyes accusing him of not being strong enough, smart enough, to save them.
It was like Tarsus all over again with his kids lying dead at his feet.
For a brief, dizzy second, he felt his breath get caught in his throat and blinding fear spread through him like lightning. And Wretin took full advantage of it.
When Jim's movements froze, Wretin lashed out. His left claws caught Jim's forehead, but Jim's instincts prevented him from cutting too deep. Jim stumbled back, but not before Wretin grabbed his left arm and bent his wrist, digging the tips of his right claws into Jim's wrist. Wretin kicked at Jim's chest while still holding on. The force sent Jim reeling back and the blades raked down his arm, leaving four bloody trails from a few inches above his elbow to his wrist.
Jim didn't have time to hiss in pain before Wretin's kick sent him flying across the field. As he laid there, face-down in the dirt, he could feel his entire body aching in pain and his muscles trembling. Sweat was mixing with his blood. There was an odd rushing noise in his ears, like everything had become muffled. He could barely make out the cries of his friends – of Bones yelling at him to get his lazy ass off the ground and Uhura's screams for him to get the hell up. Chekov's colorful words in Russian and Spock's threatening words to Wretin had joined in the fray, adding to the sounds of pounding that echoed in his mind.
He could sense Wretin getting closer; the Kalian's footsteps thudding against the ground and sending up small clouds of dirt, but he still couldn't make his body move. Panic and despair threatened to swallow him whole, like he was barely keeping his head above churning water.
Just as the water was about drown him, something in his mind shattered. Shards of glass rained down upon him and rearranged to form a box around him. Baffled, Jim saw a thin man approached his prison. The man's blue eyes held no life within them and the moment Jim made contact with them, they swallowed Jim into an abyss full of darkness and ice.
Jim fell deeper and deeper into the black until he couldn't breathe anymore.
And then something snapped. Like a switch being turned on, adrenaline began to flow through his frozen veins again. Strength entered his muscles and all the pain faded away like a bad dream.
It was then that J.T. opened his eyes and lurched to his feet. There was a maniacal glimmer to his eyes and cold bloodlust oozed out of his pores. The entire atmosphere of the match changed in the blink of an eye. It was like the calm before the storm – a few of the Kalians even shivered as the cold settled down around them.
Wretin paused, confused at this stranger before him, and that was all J.T. needed to strike.
With almost inhumane speed, J.T. darted forward and crouched, slashing deeply into Wretin's calf. The Kalian fell to one knee and J.T. roundhouse kicked Wretin's larynx, knocking Wretin heavily onto his back.
Silently, J.T. punched downwards with his left hand, fatally stabbing Wretin in his chest.
Surprise was still written in Wretin's eyes before he had a chance to truly comprehend what had happened. J.T. was cold, ruthless, and efficient in killing – so different than Jim whose heart had been softened by his friends and everyone he had met on and through the Enterprise.
And it was that heart that woke Jim back up in time to lock J.T. back into the crevices of his mind before his illogical self decided to decimate the Kalian population for threatening anything he held dear.
As the haze from his eyes cleared, Jim found himself staring down upon the fading Kalian.
"You still lose, Captain Kirk," rasped Wretin, laughter dying on his lips.
"What do you mean?" demanded Jim.
Wretin's hand thudded against the dirt and Jim's blue eyes were drawn to the sight of the blood dripping off the tips of the tiger claws. His mind swirled; his waning strength, the unnatural stinging pain of his injuries…it all led to one conclusion.
"You poisoned it…" Jim breathed.
Blood gurgled out of Wretin as he chuckled. "Y-you l-lose."
Jim snarled. "You underestimate me, Wretin. Go to hell." And he twisted his hand, making the claws twist and burrow deeper into the Kalian's chest.
Wretin died with a smirk on his face.
Jim staggered to his feet, dread filling him. A cold, icy feeling was spreading from his wounds, gradually paralyzing his muscles. It was a slow-acting poison. If he got back onto the Enterprise within the next few minutes, Bones still might have a chance of saving him.
He was so focused on diagnosing himself that he didn't even realize that Spock had been released and was now right beside him, his body so close that Jim could easily lean on him if needed. A warm arm snaked around his waist and he glanced to his left to see Bones supporting him with a grim expression. Uhura and Chekov were there too, standing beside McCoy – safe and sound. Suddenly, he felt so, so tired and he was more than willing to leave the rest of this debacle to Spock.
"Captain Kirk has successfully completed his trials of Krav Kali. We are free to leave," Spock said loudly, his brown-black eyes angry.
"Incorrect, Commander Spock. Captain Kirk has won the challenges for your lives; he has yet to fight for his own," the Emperor returned, a broad smile reaching his face. He knew as well as Spock, McCoy, and Kirk that Jim had no chance of surviving another round – not when he was barely standing on his own.
"Then I challenge you to a Krav Kali with my Captain's life as stake!" Spock announced.
Bones took a step forward while still keeping Jim upright. "Count me in too!"
"Me as vell!" Chekov added.
Beside him, Uhura exclaimed, "And me!"
"Such insolence!" roared the Emperor. "Captain Kirk must fight for his life as dictated by the laws of Krav Kali!"
The words jolted something in Jim's sluggish memory. "No, I don't…" he whispered.
Both Spock and Bones shot him a look of confusion.
He cleared his throat and stood a little bit straight. "I don't have to," Jim repeated, loudly this time.
"It is our law!"
"Your warrior fought with no honor!" Jim snapped.
There was a second of silence and the Kalian rulers' faces paled. "What do you mean?" hissed the Emperor.
Jim pointed at Wretin. "Your warrior poisoned his blades!"
Bones' grip on his waist tightened, but Jim continued. "As such, by the laws of Krav Kali, your warrior has effectively nullified any charges against me and thus concluding this battle. And now, seeing how my friends and I are free, I've only got one last thing to say to you."
He nodded at Chekov who whispered "Beam us up!" into the configured tricorder.
Jim looked back up at the Emperor, a shit-eating smirk on his face, and raised his left hand, making an extremely rude and offensive gesture. "Fuck you."
Familiar white lights swirled around them and in the next instant, Jim, Spock, McCoy, Chekov, and Uhura were back onboard the Enterprise.
Scotty and the rest of the technicians in the transporter room were not prepared to see their Captain bleeding all over McCoy, but they didn't have time to comment before Jim was already barking out orders in his "Captain" tone.
"Scotty, get us the hell out of this quadrant. Spock, you have the conn. Let Starfleet know that the Kalians are probably no longer on good terms with us. Uhura, Chekov – head to the Bridge and do damage control. And someone call Medical."
They all stared at him dumbly for a brief second.
"Did I stutter? Move!" Jim said.
Instantly, there was a flurry of movement and the transporter room all but cleared out.
Jim turned his glazed blue eyes onto Bones and gave him a small smile. "Told you everything'll work out."
And then proceeded to pass the fuck out.
Bones staggered under Jim's dead weight and struggled to keep Jim from face-planting on the ground just as medical came rolling in. In seconds, Jim was loaded onto a gurney and hyposprays were jammed into his neck.
Despite the urgency of the situation, Bones couldn't help but run his fingers through his best friend's hair and smile with relief. "Yeah, you did good, kid. You did real good."
Beta shift had rolled around and the Bridge crew had squeezed into the Sickbay to visit their friend. It had been a week since the Kalian incident and while Starfleet hadn't made a huge fuss about it, surprisingly, every person aboard the Enterprise had been tense and stressed, simply because McCoy had kept Jim's condition quiet, not that he had it on purpose. He had spent the first two days working with Spock to develop an antidote that Jim wasn't allergic to and the rest keeping Jim's system from fraying out.
About ten minutes ago, McCoy had sent a comm. to each of the Bridge crew that Jim was finally awake and coherent enough for visitors, so here they were, crowding the Sickbay.
Jim was sitting up when Spock, Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu came in, propped up by three pillows and the incline of the biobed. He was shirtless and a white sheet was pulled up to cover just his legs. White bandages with splashes of pink were covering his left arm and a patch of gauze was taped onto his brow. There was an IV stuck into his right arm, now healed and mended, but his pallor had returned to normal and a bright smile was scrawled upon his face.
"Hey, guys!" he grinned. "I'd wave, but Mr. Cranky-Pants over there will just smack me."
"I wouldn't be cranky if you actually listen to me for once, dumbass," grouched Bones, but the small smile on his face betrayed him.
"Keptin!" cried Chekov, rushing forward to his bedside. "I'm so glad to see zat you are alright!"
Spock stepped forward as well, his eyebrow rising at the sight of Jim's left arm. "Dr. McCoy, it has been a week since the Kalians. Are the dermal regenerators not working as they should?"
"Is that a veiled insult at my medical skills, you damn hobgoblin?"
"That would be illogical. If I were to insult you, I would not be so subtle."
Jim snorted. "Don't lie, Spock. You're the master of subtle."
"While that may be true, it still does not answer the question of why your injuries have not healed."
"It's the poison, Spock," McCoy sighed. "Every time we try to use modern medicine on it, it either makes things worse or has completely no effect."
"How will that affect the Captain?"
"It won't. We just have to let it heal twenty-first century style, but it'll most likely leave a scar."
"Which women dig, right, Uhura?" winked Jim.
Uhura rolled her eyes with a soft smile in response and Sulu chuckled.
"What kind of drugs are you on, Kirk?" Sulu asked.
"The good stuff, of course."
"I hear you were a bit of a badass with the Kalians. That's funny, because I seem to recall that I kicked your ass in fencing."
"You should not challenge the Keptin, Hikaru. He vill vipe the floor vith you."
"I'm offended, Pavel!" gasped Sulu. "How could you say that? I feel so wounded!"
Immediately, Chekov was stumbling to comfort his friend. "I am not saying zat you are not amazing as vell, Hikaru!"
"And that's why Chekov is everyone's favorite," laughed Jim.
"How many weapons do you know how to use, Kirk?" Sulu asked. "Which martial arts do you know?"
"Quite a few. It'd take forever for me to answer that question."
"And why didn't we know about this?"
Jim shrugged. "Didn't come up."
"Don't kid yourself, Jim," McCoy said. "You love to surprise people. You like them to keep on guessing. It's the same with that weird Chinese acrobatic shit you pulled a few missions back."
"I can neither confirm nor deny that," grinned Jim.
Uhura stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on Jim's foot and giving him a concerned look.
"Uh oh. Am I in trouble?"
"It's just…I want to ask how you're doing."
"Didn't we just answer this question? I think Bones would be more than happy to repeat himself, since that seems to be all that he's been doing lately."
Bones half-heartedly smacked at Jim's leg.
"You know what I mean, Kirk."
Jim's gaze hardened slightly. "Am I okay with killing fourteen Kalians in cold blood?"
Uhura hesitated and nodded.
"Let's just say that I would do it again if I had to."
Unsurprisingly, no one called Jim out on his violent aggressiveness to protect his family – not when each and every one of them would do the exact same as he.
"I still can't believe you found the time to teach Chekov how to reconfigure a tricorder into a communicator," Bones said.
"Good thing I did, huh? Otherwise, some other Kalian who finds you 'pleasing to the eye' might have had the opportunity to 'admire' your prettiness, Bones." Jim smirked at Bones and wiggled his eyebrow.
Bones spluttered as he leapt to his feet. "Damn it, Jim!"
"Whoa, I don't think I heard about this. Who thought McCoy was pretty?" Sulu asked, a grin spreading on his face.
"You haven't heard about the fight for Bones' chastity? Oh boy, do I have a story for you."
Jim, despite all his skills, couldn't dodge Bones' unerringly accurate precision for hyposprays. He was out like a light in seconds, a smile still on his face.
"Just so all of you know, I will hypospray anyone else who decides to talk about that. Remember, if I can get this ingenious idiot, the rest of you don't stand a chance," growled McCoy.
Spock raised his eyebrow, fully aware of the fact that Sulu and Chekov had moved to hide behind him.
"Hiding behind the hobgoblin won't save you. Now get out of my Sickbay. I've got work to do. Shoo!"
"Very well, Doctor. I will leave you to your work. When Jim wakes, be sure to thank him."
McCoy frowned and crossed his arms. "Why?"
"He saved your good honor, Doctor. I believe that merits a thank you."
Needless to say, the rest of the Bridge crew refused to visit Jim afterwards, much to their ingenious Captain's confusion. And when the annual inoculations rolled around, Jim was pleased to discover that he was not the only one avoiding McCoy like the plague.
Turns out, he wasn't the only ingenious idiot around.
And damn, did that feel good.
So, how was it? Hope you guys liked it. And as I said in the beginning, you guys get to decide what the next story is about. I got lots of really good ideas (thanks to all your reviews) and I've narrowed it down to three choices:
1) De-aged Kirk
2) Chekov and Kirk get held hostage
3) Spock gets hurt and Kirk uses his survival skills to keep them both alive until Enterprise finds them
I'll probably end up writing all three, but you guys can decide the order. To keep things simple, just let me know what your first choice is and we'll go from there, deal?
Anyway, as always, thanks for reading and please review! Your reviews always make my day! Thanks!
~ Kanae Yuna