Chapter 5

Escape of the Rabbits

Grunts filled the air, almost hiding the loud sounds of fists pounding against human flesh. The blows were harsh, but nowhere as debilitating as they could be. Jim guessed that being a well-renowned Captain at one point had its benefits. Even being accused of murdering an Admiral, Jim's treatment as prisoner could be much, much worse. For one, Jim wasn't being hung from the ceiling like a piece of dead carcass. He had seen that done to other traitors. And he at least had the 'honor' of not being beaten half-to-death with whips or any other type of torture device.

As it was, Jim as bound to a plain chair with his hands handcuffed behind his back and his legs chained to the legs. He was sporting a black eye and several bruises as well as a bloody nose from the few punches that had been thrown at him.

"Did you or did you not kill Admiral Dreyes, Kirk?" demanded one of his prison guards. "Confess and this will all be over."

He spat some blood out onto the floor, glaring at the soldiers around him. "Hasn't torturing prisoners for information been illegal for hundreds of years?"

That cheekiness resulted in another hard punch to his face. Jim was going to be pissed if his face ended up permanently marked from this shit.

"That law does not pertain to those accused of treason."

"You'll have to prove that first," Jim shot back.

"Admit your guilt!"

"I'll admit that I've done some pretty questionable things: sleeping around with anything that basically breathed, got into more bar fights than I would care to count, or even to drinking Romulan Ale onboard a Starfleet ship – I'm not telling you which one – but I will not admit to anything that I didn't. I didn't kill Dreyes."

"You were found at the crime scene with the murder weapon in your hands!"

"Yes, but have you ever heard of the phrase 'at the wrong time, wrong place'? Quite frankly, I'm insulted that you all think so lowly of me. If I was to kill Dreyes – all hypothetically, of course – do you really think that I'd be stupid enough to let myself get caught? Please," Jim scoffed.

A new voice cut into the small, dank room. "That's certainly true. James T. Kirk is known to be a genius, after all."

Jim's head snapped up, peering through the dark to a well-hidden figure by the door. How he had not noticed that man's presence was beyond him, but he kept his face blank as he tried to place the familiar voice.

"But that doesn't mean that geniuses do not make mistakes." The man stepped into the dim light, revealing his identity to be Commander – no, Captain – Royce Wolff. He had a hardened look on his face – all traces of nervousness or adoration that Jim had seen before was gone. Wolff was eying Jim like he was a rabbit with its foot stuck in a clawed-trap.

Jim felt the air whoosh out of his lungs. This was not the same happy, excited man that Jim had met in Dreyes' office. It was rare that Jim had misread someone. It meant that Wolff was a master of manipulation – good enough to fool Jim. But now, with Wolff before him, Jim knew exactly who the young man was.

Wolff was an ambitious man who was willing to spend years and years of acting like he was a good guy so that people would underestimate him and help him whenever he asked. With such a mask, no one ever considered him a threat and he moved up in the world by using that to his advantage, subtly manipulating to get to where he wanted. In a few years after graduating from the Academy, he should have been Captain of his own ship, but then Nero happened and his plans went haywire. Jim took the spotlight and everything that he had worked for fell apart under his fingernails.

Jim had gotten cocky and didn't read past Wolff's portrayed surface. He should've known better, otherwise, he wouldn't have been in this situation with his freedom hanging in the balance otherwise.

"Wolff," Jim greeted coldly.

Royce ignored him and turned to Jim's three prison guards. "You can go. I want to speak to him alone."

"But sir…" protested one.

"Now." Wolff's voice booked no argument and they all quickly took their leave, locking both Jim and Royce alone in the room.

Wolff wandered to the camera that was placed in the right front corner and manually turned it off before he walked slowly back to stand right before Jim's seated figure. "How are you enjoying your treatment, Captain?" he smirked, smugness oozing out of his pores.

"It's invigorating," Jim returned dryly. "I assume you're here to gloat?"

"Of course. I would never miss out on an opportunity to rub in the great James Kirk's face."

"You know that these charges will never stick. I didn't do it. What are you stalling for? Why do you need me out of the way temporarily?"

"What makes you think I'm stalling for anything?" Wolff was the picture of innocence.

Jim rolled his eyes. "You know I'm not an idiot. Don't take me as a fool, Wolff. It'll be your last mistake."

Wolff's face twisted, turning angry. "I would never underestimate you, Kirk. You're far too dangerous for that."

"You're the one who killed Dreyes. Who's the dangerous one here?"

"Ah, so you figured it out." Excitement flashed across Royce's eyes, like he was full of anticipation of the game that was afoot.

Jim was completely unfazed. "I'm not a genius for nothing. What are you going to do with my crew?"

"You're not going to ask why I did it?" pouted Wolff.

"I'm not going to waste my time asking questions I know the answers to. Now tell me, Wolff. What are you going to do with my crew?!" snarled Jim.

"At daybreak, I will be taking the Enterprise to Zenobia, as Dreyes agreed to."

Confusion flittered across Jim's face before he had the chance to hide it. Wolff's smirk only grew wider at that, and he continued speaking with such glee that it made Jim want to head-butt the man. "The catch is that it won't be quite as safe as I had let on. You see, my uncle is currently in the midst of a revolution and has taken control of Zenobia. He has requested your crew specifically to keep any subsequent rebellions under control."

Jim's blue eyes widened in horror. "You're going to use them as examples…" he breathed, his tone full of fear for his people. His crew was going to be used to keep people in line, by any means possible. That included torture or worse.

Oh God. It was going to be like Tarsus IV all over again with heads placed on spikes and public floggings and executions to deter any brave souls from doing anything stupid. And this was going to be his family suffering.

"You were right when you told Dreyes that your crew would be targeted simply because they are your people, Kirk. You were always smarter than him, but clearly not clever enough. Have fun figuring a way out of this in time to save your friends."

"Don't you fucking touch them, Wolff!" yelled Jim. "Your fight is with me! Leave them out of it!"

"How can I when it clearly hurts you so much more?" Wolff smiled serenely. "I look forward to seeing you again, Kirk. Good luck!"

"You bastard! I'll fucking kill you!" Jim hollered, straining against his bonds, but there was nothing he could do to stop Wolff from leaving.

The guards came in a second later, took one look at Jim nearly foaming at the mouth with overwhelming anger and fear, and immediately handcuffed hustled him to a maximum security prison.

He was unceremoniously thrown into the pure white room as soon as his cuffs were taken off. Three of the walls were made from the same materials as ship hulls and were nearly impossible to penetrate. The last wall – the 'door' was reinforced glass that was even stronger than the rest of the cell. It was small – barely a six-by-six foot perimeter, but it was enough to have a barren cot on one side towards the back with a white metal chair next to it and a toilet with a sink by the front. A camera in the front right corner blinked green every second, live-recording everything that Jim ever did to a monitor where he was to be watched 24/7.

As soon as the heavy lock engaged, imprisoning him, Jim angrily lifted the chair and threw it harshly against the glass wall. The loud thud made the guard outside his cell jump, and Jim felt immense satisfaction fill him, but he didn't let it distract him.

He didn't have much time. Moving to stand before the left-hand side wall, Jim viciously bit into his right index finger, drawing blood. He scrawled "кролик" three times, each one under the other, onto the pure white with crimson. He had to deepen the cut on his finger a few times to get enough blood to write it all out, and once he was done, he plopped down in the left back corner where he kept his eyes directly on the camera that was facing him.

Jim then proceeded to wait silently, plotting and scheming the entire time.

"Hey, what did he write on that wall?" Jonathan asked the other guard on duty with him as he stared at the monitors before him.

Lance glanced up from the PADD that he was reading. "I think the guys before us said that it's 'rabbit' in Russian."

"Why did he write 'rabbit'? You think it's code for him to try to escape?"

"You're paranoid as always, Jon," Lance replied, rolling his eyes.

"But this is the Kirk that we're talking about here. Haven't you heard the stories?"

"Yeah, but this is also the Kirk that got caught killing an Admiral. Poor man probably lost his mind after being in space for so long."

Jon gave him a look. "That doesn't happen, Lance."

"It happened to a cousin of mine. The darkness and loneliness drove him mad. I wouldn't be surprised if the same thing happened to a Captain of the Flagship. Shit happens out there, you know? He's probably seen something horrible and snapped."

"Hence 'rabbit'?"

Lance nodded. "Hence 'rabbit'. If he was sane, he would've written something else. Previous guys checked it out anyway. Said that there's no connection in Kirk's life to anything remotely similar to a rabbit."

"It's in Russian."

"So?"

"Why?"

"You question a lot of things, Jon, you know that? We're not paid to ask questions."

"Yeah, but aren't you curious?"

"I've heard that Kirk is fluent in at least seven different languages. Among them is Russian. My bets are that he falls back on Russian when he's upset."

Jonathon looked at Kirk who was sitting in the far left corner, staring so intently at the camera – as if he was staring directly at the two of them. It made Jon uncomfortable, like Kirk's blue eyes were piercing through his soul. "So what has he been doing for the last three hours?"

"Nothing. He wrote on the wall and sat down. He hasn't moved since." Lance shrugged, "Told you, he lost his mind."

"Where's the guard that's supposed to be watching him?"

"Arthur got freaked out by all that staring, so he went to check on the other prisoners."

"Is that safe?"

"Kirk hasn't even moved a finger since the beginning. We're not even sure if he's blinking. Trust me, Jon. It's fine. Even with his skills, I doubt that Kirk can escape from maximum security prison without moving."

"But…"

Lance sighed and tossed his communicator to Jon, who caught it clumsily. "Look, if you're still worried, call Arthur and tell him to swing on by to check on our most prized criminal."

Jon made a face. "Arthur won't be happy about that."

"No, he won't," Lance agreed, returning to his PADD, "And you know that he'll chew you out for it."

"Why don't you tell him? You're our superior!"

"You're the one that's bitching!"

Their argument was interrupted by the crackle of the communicator in Jon's hands.

"Lance, you there?" came a deep and frantic voice.

Lance snatched the device away from Jon and pressed the button. "Yeah, what's up, Arthur?"

"Uh…Kirk's gone."

Instantly, alarm lit up in the guard's face and he scanned the monitors again. "What are you talking about? He's sitting where he's been for the last three hours!"

"I'm standing right in front of his cell. His door's wide open!"

"That can't be possible!"

"Maybe it's a looped recording?" suggested Jon.

"Shit! Ring the alarms, Arthur! I'll tell Command."

"I already did! Nothing happened!"

"What?!"

"Someone cut off the alarms!"

"Spread out and look for him! Consider James T. Kirk as armed and dangerous and use any means to bring him down. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Go now!" Lance hung up on Arthur and immediately started to dial for Command as he swept out of the room with Jon following after him. He was seconds from connecting when a fist slammed solidly into his face.

He was out cold before he even realized what happened, and the device clattered to the ground, silent.

Jon was so shocked that he could only gape at his superior and then nervously up at the person who had punched the lights out of Lance.

Bright blue eyes considered him and he gulped as he froze in the presence of the one and only James Kirk. With his face bruised, dried blood from under his nose, and dressed in the black undershirt of Starfleet uniforms, Kirk looked formidable and absolutely terrorizing.

With a swift movement, Kirk smashed the communicator with his foot, completely ignoring the passed out man on the floor and glared at the remaining guard. "You have two options: you can either follow the fate of your little friend here or you can keep your mouth shut and not call for any help. If I find out that you call after I'm gone, I'll come back for you and take you out, even if it's the last thing I do. Nod if you understand me."

Jon nodded quickly.

"So what do you choose?" Kirk said, cracking his knuckles as he moved menacingly forward. His grey-blue eyes were so cold, so terrifying.

"T-the second o-one…" stammered Jon.

A smile broke out on Kirk's face. "Good choice." He started to move past Jon, but he hesitated at the last second.

Turning, he gave Jon a hard stare. "You should probably lie down on the ground and pretend that I knocked you out too. Otherwise, you'll have a hard time explaining why you disobeyed direct orders and let me go, even if you were under duress." Kirk winked at him. "Just a piece of advice from someone with experience. See ya!"

With that, Kirk was gone, sprinting down the hallways that were soon to be swarming with guards that were aiming to take him down, dead or alive.

And yet, Jim still took the time to help out someone who was supposed to be his enemy, despite having just killed an Admiral a day ago.

James T. Kirk was truly an enigma, and Jonathon couldn't help but wonder if the fallen Captain was actually guilty of the charges that he was accused of. He kind of wished that Kirk wasn't, but Jon was a bit of a dreamer. He still had faith in his hero, even if he was breaking out of imprisonment.

He just hoped that Kirk knew what he was doing, because he was going to be Starfleet's number one most wanted man after this stunt.

Well, if he managed to escape, that was.

Jim could feel his arms and legs getting number and number as time went on by, but he refused to move even an inch from his position on the ground in his cell. He couldn't if he wanted his plan to work, and he remained a statue, staring at the camera before him.

Within the first hour, Jim had already gotten the patterns of his prison down. The light blinked green every three seconds and his guard passed by every thirty minutes. In the beginning, his guard would stand before his cell, keeping an ever watchful eye on him, but Jim knew that the expression on his face was more than disconcerting and unsettled people. He had made it so after all. Within twenty minutes, his guard had started to shift around uneasily. Jim didn't move or stop glaring. Ten minutes later, the guard had commed in that he was going on rounds and proceeded to leave.

Two hours passed and shifts changed, but Jim didn't even move a finger in that time.

Three hours later, the blinking light stopped. Jim grinned and watched as the camera whirl as its recording properties was remotely turned off. He stood, shaking out all the pins and needles in his limbs, and walked slowly to the door that whooshed open the moment he approached it. Turning briefly, Jim gave the camera a smirk and a salute and then walked out as a free man.

Training kicked in and Jim instantly took note of all the cameras in the hall. They weren't a huge concern – he had someone on the outside taking care of that – but habits die hard. Jim stayed in blind spots and avoided the passing guards. He had to move quickly – he had about ten minutes before his current guard made his way back to his cell and discover that he had escaped.

As quiet as a shadow, Jim made his way to the control room. He had to stop all communications to buy himself enough time to get out before the entire Starfleet security was on his ass. By the time he skidded by the door, he could hear panicked and angry shouts from within the room. Readying himself, Jim stood in an offensive position, his fists out. The second that door slid open and a man stepped out, Jim slammed his hand into the guard's face. The hapless man collapsed onto the ground before he even had the chance to figure out what had happened, dropping his communicator onto the floor by Jim's foot.

Without missing a beat, Jim broke it and turned menacingly at the man that was frozen in place a few steps behind his unconscious comrade. His perceiving blue eyes easily read the remaining guard's desire to recapture Jim. Instead, there was some awe in the man's expressions and Jim knew that he didn't have to do much to cover for himself.

Throwing out some threats, he was pleased that the guard was willing to just let him go, and with one last shred of compassion, Jim gave him some advice to stay out of trouble. There was a brief flicker of confusion and sincere doubt (probably regarding Jim's guilt), but Jim didn't stick around to find out whether or not the guard listened to him.

He rounded another corner, sprinting through the halls, occasionally ducking into corners to hide from wandering guards. A few times, Jim was almost caught, but he managed to escape notice with minimal contact. By the time he reached the outskirts of the prison, he had only knocked out three guards in total – not enough to set off any alarms.

He was almost free.

The doors leading to the outside automatically opened for him as he approached them. Jim didn't even hesitate to go through them, taking a sharp right turn towards the hanger. Another corner passed and Jim found himself coming to an abrupt stop.

Leaning casually against the wall, hidden slightly by the shadows, was Christopher Pike. The elder man was dressed in his Starfleet uniform, looking every inch like a man who was there to stop Jim.

"Pike…" Jim greeted, a little breathless. His eyes darted across to the open space before them and all the ships that sat waiting for someone to pilot them.

"Hope you didn't have too much trouble getting here," Pike said. There was an unreadable expression on his face, and Jim attributed it to worry that the Admiral was trying hard to suppress.

"Nope, thanks to you."

"That was all you. You left me some fairly detailed instructions. I feel like I should be surprised that you saw this far ahead, but it's you, so I pretty much expect it now." Pike grinned proudly at Jim.

Jim ignored the flutter in his heart at that and suppressed the little bubble of happiness that Pike's approval had formed. "Everything all set?"

"Yeah," he responded as he handed Jim a backpack who quickly slung it over his shoulder.

"You weren't seen, were you, Pike?"

Despite the curtness of the question, Pike knew that it was just because of Jim's fear that Pike would be discovered helping a charged criminal.

Pike snorted. "Who do you think I am? Of course I wasn't."

"Good. Stay low, Pike. I don't want you associated with my escape."

At that, Pike became more serious, his eyes glinting with steel. "Jim, you know that if you do this, you'll be the most wanted man in all of the Federation. If your name isn't cleared, you'll be running for the rest of your life, as a fugitive."

Jim just smiled sadly at Pike. "I'm always running, Pike, and I'll always be running. The only difference now is that I can actually see what's chasing after me."

"I can't protect you from this, Jim. The next time we meet, it may be on opposite sides." The pain in Pike's voice was ever so clear, making his words seem slightly strained.

"I know, and I'm sorry to do this to you, Chris, but this is my family. I can't let them down like this. You understand, right?"

Pike lifted up a chin boldly, his expressions determined. "I do, but just tell me this, Jim. You're throwing away your future, your freedom, and your life. Is it worth it?"

There was no hesitation. "Yes. They're worth everything."

A small smile broke out on Pike's face. "That's all I need to hear. Hanger 6, Lot B. He's waiting for you. Be careful, son, and take care."

Jim couldn't help himself and launched forward, hugging Pike tightly. His heart was aching, unable to truly let go of his father figure. Pike had always been there for him, pulling him out into the light. Words could not describe how much he owed the man and how much he cared for him.

He felt Pike's arms return the gesture. "Go save your family, Jim. I'll make sure you all have a home to come back to."

"Thank you, Chris," Jim breathed.

"I'm proud of you, kid. Don't ever forget that," Pike said, giving Jim one last pat and pulling away. "Now go. Don't want to keep them waiting."

"You stay safe, okay? Don't drag yourself down with me. I'm not worth your career, Chris."

Pike just calmly patted Jim's cheek in a fatherly manner. His eyes shone with gentleness and love. "Yes, you are. Now get, before that boy gets impatient and leaves you behind."

Jim wanted to protest Pike's words, but he knew that he didn't have the time. With emotion choking him, Jim gave Pike one last nod and turned, running the hangers. Pike watched his boy disappear into a small exploratory shuttle and waited the five minutes it took for it to fly off into the starry abyss before he started to head back to his office.

This was all that he could do as of that moment. He had faith that Jim would be fine, despite the worry that sat heavily on his chest, but even if he was, it wouldn't mean anything if Jim couldn't come back.

Pike was going to prove Jim's innocence, and if that meant that digging around would put his career in danger, then so be it.

Jim was worth it all.

The door to the shuttle was already open and waiting for Jim by the time he reached it. With his heart pounding, Jim leapt onboard. Immediately, he noticed the two long, rectangular safety containers that were tied down to both sides of the ship. Both were white and probably six-by-four feet. Pressing the button to release and open one, Jim shoved his backpack into it and closed it. There was a small sound of whirling as the contraption locked in place.

Turning, he moved towards the front of the ship, plopping down at the pilot's seat and started to flick switches and press buttons to close the door and prepare the ship for liftoff.

When everything was set, Jim swiveled slightly in his chair to address his quiet copilot that sat next to him.

"Hey, Chekov, how's it going?" he grinned.

The young Navigator – dressed in all black, like Jim – was smiling broadly, his eyes shining with excitement and happiness at seeing his Captain. "Took you long enough, Keptin. I hawe been vaiting for a vhile now," joked Chekov.

"Thanks for turning off all the cameras for me, Chekov, and buying us time. We probably have another half-hour before they realize that I'm gone and send the whole fleet after us."

Jim started the initiation sequence. The shuttle rose up and started moving slowly through the hanger as Jim carefully piloted them out to the open sky.

"Vhy did ve hawe to vait three hours, Keptin? My codes hawe been implanted in ze system ze moment you vere arrested. You did not hawe to stick around for zeir…" Chekov struggled for the word here as he angrily gazed at Jim's bruises. "…treatment."

"Three hours is just enough time for them to drop their guards and ensure that I can get out without a hitch. One alarm goes off and I may have had to knock out everyone in the building, which means that I wouldn't be getting out unscathed. Trust me, I was more than impatient to get out, but this had to be done. Good job with keeping up with all the improv though, Chekov. I definitely threw a wrench or two into our original plan."

Jim shot Chekov another smile, "I'm glad everything went smoothly though. All you, I assume?"

"Of course," Chekov smirked. "I am a genius, after all."

"No stealing other people's lines, Chekov. That's just rude."

"Vould you hawe preferred zat I leave you in jail?"

"Not particularly."

"Zen I can say vhatever I vant."

Jim chuckled. "Touché, Chekov. Glad to see that you still have your cheekiness about you."

"And I am glad to see zat you are alright."

At that, the humor in Jim's expressions faded away. Clearly, something was still on his mind, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he focused on getting them out of Earth.

Comfortable, yet tense silence fell between the two of them, leaving Chekov to truly take in how Jim looked. There was a tightness in Jim's face, the clenching of his jaws, and he was reminded of the time when Jim had grabbed him off the streets and into an abandoned flat.

Strong hands pulled Chekov inwards, and though he struggled, he couldn't seem to fight off his attacker. Any screams he made were muffled and even if he did manage to let out a squeak, he knew that no one could hear him.

Suddenly, he felt the man behind him lean closer and whisper into his ear, "Relax, Chekov, it's just me."

The voice was familiar and sent waves of relief rushing through the Russian. Immediately, he stopped struggling and he felt the hands release him.

He swung around, facing Jim with wide eyes and relief in his expressions. "Keptin! Where hawe you been? Ve hawe been so vorried about you!"

Jim raised an index finger to his lips. "Shh. Keep your voice down. I'm still undercover," he said quietly.

"Oh. Sorry…" Chekov apologized, his voice lowering to almost a whisper.

Jim smiled faintly. Everything about him seemed strained. Taut lines were drawn on his face, no doubt from the constant hardened masks that he had to keep on. He seemed thinner, but his muscles were toned against his black shirt. The hood of his jacket had ruffled his hair; his blue eyes were cold and harsh.

The worry for his friend came back like a freight train. Chekov took a step closer to Jim. "Keptin, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Look, I don't have much time, but I need your help, Chekov."

"Anything."

"I'll be asking a lot from you – you will be risking your career and possibly your future for this."

There was no hesitation. "Anything. Vhat do you need?"

"I need you to resign from the Enterprise."

Chekov frowned for a second, but he didn't comment, letting Jim continue without interruption.

"Claim that you've had enough of space or something and you're going to work for Pike. I'll be leaving Pike instructions later today and he'll keep you updated every step of the way. Soon, I'm going to need you to hack into Starfleet's system and take control of the cameras. You can do that, yeah?"

Chekov nodded fervently.

"We'll have a codeword. If I say it or signal it to you, it means that everything is a go. Keep count of how many times I indicate it. Each time will be equivalent to one hour of wait time. You also need to be prepared to ready a shuttle for a quick getaway." Jim paused, giving him an apologetic look. "Sorry, I know this is pretty vague, but I can't tell you much anyway. You need to work with Pike for this whole thing to succeed."

"Keptin, vhat is it zat you zink will happen?" he asked cautiously.

"I don't know, but whatever happens, I need you to be prepared to listen to whatever Pike tells you to do. I'll have everything laid out for him."

"Understood. Vhat shall be our codevord?"

Jim sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. You pick. It has to be something that's obvious to us, but no one else."

Chekov smiled broadly, the perfect word popping into his head. "кролик."

A fond smile started to spread across Jim's face as he remembered Yuri the rabbit that was still sitting in his bookshelf back on the Enterprise. "That's perfect." And then a second later, any signs of affection melted away, leaving behind an expressionless mask again. "Sorry, Chekov. I've got to go. The longer I'm here, the greater the chance of being discovered. Resign from the Enterprise as soon as you can, but don't draw attention to yourself. Don't tell Spock, Sulu, Bones, or anyone else about this, okay? You tell someone and I might end up dead. Once you've gotten out, wait for Pike to contact you. Lay low and stay out of sights, got it? And for heaven's sake, stay safe."

"I vill, Keptin."

Jim gave him a strained gaze before throwing up his hood again, covering his eyes. "Not for long, Chekov. Not for long."

He was gone before Chekov had the chance to ask what he meant. Retrospectively, Chekov realized that Jim had known that he was going to be forcibly removed from command and had set a plan in motion to counter it. Chekov felt more than honored that Jim had turned to him to help him escape and make his bid for freedom.

The Navigator settled back in his chair, watching the stars come closer and closer as they started to break through the Earth's atmosphere.

"So, vhere are ve going?" Chekov asked, glancing over at his friend.

"Zenobia," came the curt answer. Jim didn't look back at him, focusing on maintaining their current flight plan.

Chekov frowned. "Zat is still under ze jurisdiction of ze Federation."

"I'm aware."

"You vill still be wanted zere."

"I know."

"Zen vhy are you going zere?"

"I got it wrong. I thought that by sending the Enterprise there, they would be safe, but Wolff's the one who set me up. Whatever they're flying into, it's going to be a trap that no one, not even Spock, will see coming."

"Does Pike knov zis?"

"I didn't have time to let him know. He thinks we're still following the original plan."

Suddenly, as the darkness and stars surrounded them, Jim turned and cast a long, hard look on his face. The stars reflected in those deep, blue eyes, making Chekov feel as though he were drowning in them. "We're going to go save our family, Chekov, consequences be damned. You with me?"

There was only one answer Chekov could give. He cracked a smile at Jim. "Always."

No one messed with their family. Not if they had anything to say about it.

They were going to bring Wolff to his knees, and if they discovered that there was no one left to save? Well, then the universe was going to burn.

To be continued...

So, I totally lied. I'm still as slow as ever at updating this story, but I promise that I'm working on it! I've just been really busy with my internship and whatnot. I know these are all excuses, but I swear that I'm working on this story!

I do want to thank everyone for all your kind words and encouragement! Thank you for rooting for me and my grades! Thank you for all the congratulations! I truly appreciate each and every single one of you!

I am working on this story, albeit slowly. I hope you all still stick around and support me!

As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and please review!

Cheers,

Yuna