Chapter 7

The First Strike

Stretching and yawning, Chekov wandered back into the cockpit to see Jim fiddling with the controls with wires and sparks flying everywhere. He froze, taking in the sight. There was a hardened expression on Jim's face – something that stayed constant since he was freed – and beads of sweat dripping down his neck. Dark circles were heavily pronounced under his eyes, making him look almost like a zombie. He hadn't changed since he escaped Starfleet's prison, remaining in his black under-shirt and pants.

"Keptin, hawe you slept yet?" asked Chekov, moving forward to sit down on the chair next to Jim's.

"Nope. I've been trying to reconfigure our ship to go a little faster. I can't get her to go warp speed, but my changes should help shorten down the time by a day and eight hours."

"You should really get some sleep. You hawe been avake far too long."

"I'll sleep when this is over."

"Keptin…" Chekov said in deprecating tone. It sounded so quite like what Bones would sound like when he was concerned about Jim's health that it would make Jim stop everything that he was doing.

That thought alone made Jim's chest feel ever so tight and caused the fear and panic that he had been trying so very hard to suppress rear its ugly head again.

Jim's movements paused for a split second before he continued working, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Chekov and viciously shoving his rising emotions down with immense difficulty.

Every time he closed his eyes, he would see Tarsus all over again, but this time, instead of his kids lying lifeless around him, it was Bones, Spock, Uhura, Sulu, and Scotty. And every time, their eyes would stare at him with such accusation, demanding and pleading why he didn't save them in time.

There was something bleeding out from his subconscious. He couldn't quite put a name to what it was that was lurking in the shadows, at least not yet, but it was something dark and twisted that he was too afraid to even acknowledge. But he could feel it, seeping at the edges, turning in the depths of his mind and heart, just waiting for the right moment to pounce and consume him.

But he couldn't exactly show panic and fear in front of Chekov. He was the man with the plan – how would it look if he fell apart before one of the few people he was supposed to protect and keep safe?

So he answered as simply and honestly as he could. "I can't sleep."

Bless his heart, Chekov didn't even ask 'why'. He didn't need to. Instead, he asked quietly, "Vhat can I do to help?"

Jim let the materials in his hands drop as he reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. He got up from where he was crouched on the floor and plopped down on his chair. Sighing tiredly, he rubbed his face hard and pulled himself together before turning to Chekov and giving him a small smile. "You're already helping, Chekov, don't worry."

He was always afraid of becoming a monster – having someone as innocent and caring as Chekov beside him could remind him of his humanity; it was grounding and comforting. It also reminded Jim of what he had – what he would never let himself lose. Not again. Not while it was within his power to keep everything that had become so irreplaceable to him safe.

Jim clapped Chekov on the shoulder before leaning back on his chair, letting himself relax and the tension bleed out from his body. "So, tell me about Zenobia."

Chekov looked confused. "Vhat?"

"Give me a run-down on the planet like you guys always do. What should I know, what should I avoid, the history, etc. Tell me what I need to know to prepare for this whole thing. Knowing you, you probably did all that research when you found out that the Enterprise was going to Zenobia."

Understanding shined in Chekov's eyes. It was just like Jim to be able to predict Chekov's moves, and though that could potentially be a bit unnerving to some, to Chekov, it meant that Jim thought highly of Chekov. Jim was praising, in his own way, how thorough Chekov could be.

He dutifully started listing out all that he had learned. "Zenobia is a Starfleet colony vith a feudal-like government. Though zhey hawe technological advancements, ze people zhere prefer ze comfort of farming for zheir own, vhich is vhy zhere hawe reverted to a medieval-like culture. Ze government is composed of a council vith a head figure by ze name of Zachariah Greenaway."

Jim nodded. "Wolff's uncle."

"Correct. Greenaway has been in charge for seweral years now."

"But?" prompted Jim.

"But he has been known to be quite cruel. It took some heawy digging, but I found some complaints regarding Greenaway. He raises taxes, takes, and bullies his citizens, vhich is vhy Starfleet thought zhat he might turn into another Kodos or zhat zhere would be an uprising, especially because zhere hawe been rumors zhat ze crops are dying for some unknown reason."

"So Dreyes lied to me," sighed Jim, leaning back in his chair. "Damn it."

Chekov was back to being confused. "Keptin?"

"Well, after all that happened, I wondered if I was told the whole story. Dreyes told me that he was sending the Enterprise to Zenobia for safekeeping. I agreed to it because I thought it would keep them safe. But Dreyes wouldn't do something like that out of favor to me. He always had some sort ulterior motive. At some point, I figured that he sent the Enterprise to Zenobia to handle that possible uprising while telling me something else."

"If you knew zhat, zhen vhy did you agree to send zhem to Zenobia?"

"Because, some part of me hoped that I was being told the truth. I wanted it to be truth. I wanted you all safe when shit hit the fan like I knew it would. So I agreed to Dreyes' proposal, even though I suspected the lie simply because I didn't have enough evidence to counter it. I didn't even figure it all out until Wolff visited me during my 'interrogation'."

"But you came to me before you vere captured. If you had still believed that Dreyes vas going to help you, vhy did you pull me away from the Enterprise?"

Jim smiled tiredly at him. "Because I needed you to keep me safe. I told you, I was a sitting duck in the cell. If I had stayed any longer, I was probably going to be executed before any sort of defense could be compiled, and I needed to give myself the time to prove my innocence. This whole Zenobia and Wolff thing threw a wrench in my original plan though."

His body subconsciously tensed at that simple thought, but he forced himself to relax. It wouldn't help anyone if he was too wound up. "What else about Zenobia do I need to know?"

"Vhat do you vant to know?"

"Anything that I can use to my advantage. Terrain, beliefs…anything that I could potentially use."

"Vell, the environment is mostly a boreal biome vith a small mountain range towards ze outskirts of ze main city. As I said before, zheir culture is wery similar to zhat of a medieval culture. Clothing, lifestyle, and mannerisms are almost as if zhey vere taken from a history book. However, ze natives of ze land hawe heavily influenced zheir religion. Zhey believe in a spirit of ze land vho protects harvest and is known for her love of children."

"So, like Demeter?"

"Vho?"

"The Greek goddess of harvest who was thought to have created the seasons." Jim looked at the blank look on Chekov's face and felt an obligation to tell Chekov the Greek myth of Demeter.

"Demeter had a child, named Persephone, who she loved dearly. One day, Persephone was taken from her and she desperately searched the world for her. She spent all her energy and time just looking for her beloved daughter that she didn't hear the prayers for harvest and the land began dying. As the land died, the people suffered and pleaded to the gods for relief. It was then when it was discovered that Hades, the god of the underworld, had kidnapped Persephone and made her his Queen. Zeus ordered Hades to return Persephone to her mother in order to save the humans, but Persephone had eaten six pomegranate seeds while she was with Hades."

"The rule was, by eating the food of the underworld, she would be trapped there for all eternity, but Demeter refused to let her daughter go. She loved her far too much, so she threatened the gods and world that she would let the earth die if Persephone was not returned to her. Zeus made a deal with Hades, who allowed Persephone to return to her mother under the condition that she would spend one month of the year per pomegranate seed with him. So, for six months, Persephone was allowed to stay with her mother and together, their happiness brought about spring and summer, but for the other six months, Demeter was alone and wandered the land, grief-stricken and missing her daughter. According to the myth, her loneliness and time away from Persephone was how winter came about."

There was a moment of silence as Chekov processed the story. "Zhat's so sad."

"It's just a story, Chekov," Jim waved away those emotions with a nonchalant hand. "I wouldn't be too heartbroken over it."

"And vhy do you know zis tale?"

"I'm a genius, remember? And I read a lot when I was a kid. Greek myths were some of my favorite things to read. But back to your spiel…is there a name for this spirit?"

"Zhey simply call her ze 'Goddess', but it's just zheir belief. Zhere are stories that she vatches ower the children and protects zhem as vell as those vho she deems to be vorthvhile, but zhere is no physical proof zhat she exists."

"Doesn't mean it's not true."

"I didn't know you vere a religious man, Keptin."

"I'm not, but it doesn't mean I can't respect other people's cultures." Jim glanced out the windshield, watching the stars pass by fast. Mentally, he was still counting down the time before they reached Zenobia. "Anything else, Chekov?"

"Not zhat I can zhink of."

"Great." Jim pushed back from the dashboard and sprang to his feet, unable to sit still anymore. "Can you see what you can do with this?" he asked, pointing at the open wires that he had pulled out. "Let's try to speed up our timeframe."

One day, seven hours, and forty-two minutes.

The clock was ticking downwards.

Thirty-one hours and forty-one minutes until Jim and Chekov would even reach Zenobia, but that wasn't the problem. Getting to Zenobia wasn't an issue – with Jim and Chekov's expertise in engineering and physics, they could reach anywhere in the universe, even in their tiny exploratory shuttle. It was the landing that was the problem, because Jim highly doubted that Wolff would make things easy for him.

The shuttle had no weapons, no capacity for warp speed, and barely any shields. Jim had nothing and Wolff had something equivalent to a nuclear missile plant on his fingertips.

No matter how Jim calculated it, the odds of them even making it onto the planet was almost zero to none. But there were no such things as "no-win scenarios".

There wasn't.

There couldn't be.

Because there was no way that Jim could live in a world without his family, but that made him reckless.

And a reckless Jim Kirk meant a body count.

But who was going to be on the list of casualties, not even Jim knew.

Jim was either going to win or lose.

There was never going to be any other way.

That was always how it began for Jim. He could only hope that, for once, it would not end the same way as it always did for him – in complete and utter despair that would crush the remnants of his soul once and for all.

In all honesty, Wolff was a little bit surprised how smoothly everything went. He had never expected the famous James T. Kirk to fall into his trap so easily, but then and again, Kirk did care ever so deeply for his crew. It made it so very simple for Wolff to manipulate and use to his advantage. Sentiment was a weakness, and it was Kirk's ultimate downfall.

Wolff smirked as he thought of how far he had come. He had grown up with an alcoholic mother who beat him as a way for her to escape her own pain from the failure of her marriage and her inability to keep her husband from sleeping around. In her haze of her depression and manic episodes, she never saw how brilliant her child was or how quickly he had grown up. She couldn't see how ambitious he was or how he became a bully throughout the entirety of his schooling.

With the feeling of being powerless at the hands of his parents, the young Royce had become power-hungry outside of home. He sought out power and authority, and by any means necessary. His hands were so dirty from all he had done to reach his goal of becoming the Captain of Starfleet's flagship that no amount of water or scrubbing could clean them.

And he was proud of it.

He grew up in a shithole, born in filth. It was natural for him to be coated in grime. In fact, he thrived in it.

Using his own struggles as fuel, Wolff had pushed himself forward, struggling and crawling out of the hellhole that was his childhood.

With his own two feet, Wolff walked out of that life without a single look back.

Through all that, he had learned the most important lesson of his life: if he wanted to get ahead and get what he wanted, he had to do what needed to be done, no matter the cost.

When he met Kirk for the first time in his life, it was when he had just entered the Academy. He had heard whispers of George Kirk's infamous son joining the ranks of his class, but he hadn't met Kirk quite yet. At that time, Kirk was inconsequential - insignificant - in his ultimate need for power and authority.

But then he actually met James T. Kirk, and he was swept away. Instantly, he felt a connection with Kirk - one that only people who had had a less than stellar childhood like they did could understand. Like him, Kirk had clawed his way to the Academy, leaving his past behind him as he yearned and reached for the stars.

He had felt drawn to Kirk for that very reason and even came to idolize him. After all, Kirk was brilliant - far more intelligent than Wolff could ever hope to be. He was dashing and charming. He was well-liked by everyone that met him simply because he had those bright blue eyes and a friendliness that no one could resist, and yet, in the same breath, there was a barrier that no one could even begin to penetrate. It almost felt like he was untouchable, as if he was far too distant for anyone to reach him.

It was exactly what Wolff wanted - to be like Kirk who was so strong, so powerful and completely invulnerable and impalpable.

And the damn man spent all of his time pretending to be an idiot. Instead of studying, he played around, got drunk, and slept with half the female population, human or not. It was like a slap in the face - as if Kirk was mocking everything that Wolff believed in and patronizing everything that he wanted to be.

Out of his admiration, a deep-seeded hatred was born. But he didn't despise Kirk out of jealousy. Sure, it was true that he hated Kirk because he was everything and had everything Wolff wanted, but Wolff wasn't stupid enough to let envy rule him. What he truly loathed about Kirk was that he had everything, and Kirk threw it all away like it was nothing, choosing to bury his past and pretending that he was normal, like the rest of the imbeciles at the Academy. He could have been great, like his hero of a father, but he continued to waste away his life with alcohol and women, or at least that was what Wolff and the rest of the world saw.

It didn't matter though, because nothing was going to get in his way to become Captain. He worked hard and spent every moment of his life around people pretending to be this genuine, unassuming man who was always trying to be helpful. Favors came his way and he moved up quickly while Kirk abrasively antagonized the professors and challenged everyone around him. After he passed the Kobayashi Maru with flying colors, (of course he did. He didn't quite care what happened to the lives of his crew as long as he survived and continued onwards), he was told that, once he graduated and worked for a few years, he would take over the Captaincy of the Enterprise when Pike retired, making him the youngest Captain of a flagship ever in Starfleet's history. And damn, did that sound good. It also helped boost his ego to know that Kirk was about to attempt the Kobayashi Maru for the third time.

But then the Nero incident happened and Kirk apparently somehow saved the planet by blatantly disregarding all the rules and regulations. Like a whirlwind, he came and conquered, leaving those in his wake disoriented and confused. And all of a sudden, all his professors were praising Kirk's genius. It came as a shock to Wolff to learn that not only was Kirk on top of their class in all of the most advanced courses, but his test scores had to be omitted in order to maintain a normal bell curve. He was so exceptionally gifted academically that, despite being so challenging and outspoken, professors actually listened to him and enjoyed debating with him.

His reasoning against the Kobayashi Maru was so beautiful that even Wolff had to admit that he had a point: even in the face of certain death, a Captain couldn't just accept the fear of death and control oneself and one's crew as they met their fate - a Captain had to use that fear and try everything possible to emerge victorious. And if that wasn't possible, then a Captain had to go down fighting. Kirk had made it clear in his hearing that he didn't believe in no-win scenarios, and that was made evident with his actions against Nero. Suddenly, the reason that Kirk took, and failed, the Kobayashi Maru three times made sense.

In the aftermath of all that happened, Kirk's graduation was fast-tracked and he was given command of the newly repaired and gorgeous Enterprise - something that had been promised to Wolff. And worse, Kirk was promoted to Captaincy at least five to ten years earlier than Wolff would have ever been.

At first, all Wolff could see was a sheen of green, but it faded after Kirk went off on his first mission. He had figured that Kirk's success with Nero was a fluke and he was sure that Kirk was going to screw up badly. As it turned out, Kirk did tremendously well and slipped into his role so easily like it was his natural skin. He had been born to be Captain of the Enterprise, and it would take far more than death to remove Kirk from the equation.

He was tired of always being in Kirk's shadow, never being able to even come close to touching any sunlight. Wolff didn't just want to take Kirk's place on the Enterprise. He wanted to erase Kirk from history and take his place. And to do that, he would have to make Kirk fall from grace first.

He had gathered information from all over the world, piecing together the beginnings of a plot to take Kirk down. First, he solidified his place besides Dreyes to get his hands on anything regarding Kirk. Dreyes was powerful and had his fingers dipped into everything in the Federation. Even the other Admirals were held under his iron grip, which made him the perfect target for Wolff. Dreyes had the authority and the means to gather any information that Wolff was looking for. He found out about Kirk's past and spent time watching and learning about Kirk's habits and skills. As he discovered more and more, he also found others who did not agree with Starfleet's decision with Kirk's Captaincy. He quickly integrated himself into their group, gaining more power as he climbed the ranks.

However, unlike those that Wolff surrounded himself with, he did not fear Kirk quite as much as they did. They saw Jim as a threat to the peace that the Federation held. They could see how he moved people, changed worlds and fates with a single smile. And it terrified them. It was human nature to lash out at what they feared – to put down the threat before it had a chance to hurt them.

What they didn't realize was that, hidden under their noses, was a far more dangerous threat – one that had no qualms of killing hundreds of lives and using children as leverage. Unlike James T. Kirk, a man who strove to be good and lived his life under a strict set of rules, Wolff was the furthest thing from being a good man, and that was just how Wolff liked it.

Now, Wolff was so close to victory that he could almost taste it. Plotting around Kirk had been slow-going. The man was smart and covered his tracks well. His ingenuity around computers and electronics in general was so astounding that it took Wolff and his conspirators three full years to find it all. In fact, they never would have known where to look if they hadn't managed to track down his stepfather, drowning in enough alcohol to drown a shark. They were the ones who picked him up and threw him into prison to get sober and learn a few new skills in order to take Kirk hostage.

They hadn't been expecting much from Frank; they were simply using Frank to test Jim – to see how sentimental Kirk was. If he could spare Frank's life – a man who had abused Kirk and single-handedly destroyed his childhood – then what would Kirk do to save the people he truly cared about?

See, Wolff had Kirk pegged down. Because of his turbulent past, Kirk didn't trust anyone. He didn't allow himself to care about anyone. Like Wolff, he had come to the conclusion that emotions, particularly those of attachment, were not an advantage: it was an Achilles' heel. It was a way to break him apart and bear open his soul for anyone to pick at, like a crow scavenging for food. But Kirk was weak and he let his heart falter. He grew attached to Dr. McCoy at first, and then Spock and the rest of the Command crew.

It made Kirk an easy target. For the first time in the three or so years that this plot was underfoot, Kirk was vulnerable. And that was when Wolff struck. He had convinced Dreyes to make his move on Jim – something that he had wanted to do for ages because of Jim's amazing skills – and personally killed the Admiral at precisely the right moment to frame Kirk. Wolff had never expected Kirk to be fully convicted as a murderer – he had too many people supporting him and honestly, Wolff couldn't scrounge up enough evidence to bring Jim down completely. No, he was counting on Kirk's escape, and even better, Kirk to chase after him for his crew. Because then, that made Kirk a fugitive and made him susceptible for Wolff's true plans.

A knock on the door interrupted Wolff's thoughts. He had been sitting at his desk with his feet resting on top of it, thinking through all the various things that Jim could possibly do in the five days that he had made the Zenobian dungeons home for almost all the people that Kirk loved.

"Come in," he called out, swiveling around to sit up straight.

One of his many men popped his head into the room. "Sir, we've picked up a signal. We think it's Kirk."

A smile slowly made its way onto Wolff's face. "Good."

"What should we do, sir?"

"Well, I'd be quite rude if I didn't welcome him graciously to Zenobia, wouldn't I? How long until his arrival?"

"We approximate two hours."

Wolff stood. "In that case, I do believe that I have to make a visit to our dear friends down below. Tell my uncle to ready our welcome present for Kirk. I'll be there soon."

"Understood, sir. I'll take my leave now," he said before ducking out.

Once he was gone, Wolff turned to look out the window, staring out the tower at the bright, blue skies, grinning manically. "And so it begins, Kirk. And so it begins."

He was going to be the one to make the first strike.

There was a flurry of motion once Jim and Chekov's shuttle made its way into Zenobia's upper atmosphere. Fingers flew across the console in order to push in the right sequence to shield the craft so it wouldn't burn as it descended. The only problem with that was that, between the two of them and the marginally less advanced shuttle (compared to the Enterprise at least), they could only protect their ship from turning into a flaming hot mess, which meant that they could easily be detected the moment they entered the lower atmosphere.

Jim could no longer rely on the element of surprise, not that that was in his original plans anyway.

Within moments of stabilizing their ship, its communicator began to ring.

"Keptin, I believe it is Volff calling," Chekov said, reading the flashing words on the screen as he turned to look at what Jim was doing.

"Yeah, I know," Jim breathed. He was shoving the last of the few supplies that they had into a backpack and zipping it up tightly before he moved to sit at the pilot's seat. "Back up, Chekov. Stay out of the shot."

Puzzled, Chekov obeyed, but asked anyway. "Vhy?"

"Because they don't know you're with me, and you never reveal your trump card until the end." Jim made a shooing motion. "Stay in the corner and don't make a sound, okay?"

Chekov nodded quickly and pressed himself against the side – completely invisible to any caller.

Once Chekov was situated, Jim accepted the transmission.

Wolff's smug face popped up onto the screen, and immediately, Jim felt all his heckles rise. His body tensed and he fought to shove down the fury that threatened to consume him. Because, behind Wolff, was three of his family members – strung up like animals that were ready to be tanned.

The shot wasn't very encompassing. Jim could only make out the wide room with walls of grey stone. There were no decorations, no other indications of where that room might be, but its use was obviously for torture. Hooks hung on the ceilings in order to hold up the chains that were currently stringing Sulu, Spock, and McCoy up. Their arms and wrists were bundled in iron high above their heads and body; their feet dangled a good two or three inches above the ground.

Though there was a slight strain to their expressions, Jim did not see too much pain in their faces, and for that, Jim felt a small touch of relief fill him. He would even be amused by the utterly bored looks on Spock, Bones, and Sulu's expressions if the situation wasn't so one-sided.

"Kirk, I feel honored that you broke out of prison just to visit little old me," Wolff said. Delight was clear in his voice. "I even brought out your people in order to greet you properly."

"Wolff," Jim growled, his eyes narrowing.

"I do hope that prison wasn't too unpleasant for you."

"You of all people should know that those things could never hold me."

"They weren't meant to - I just threw you in there to slow you down."

Jim's expressions never changed, and Wolff took notice of that.

"You're not surprised."

"Does that shock you? You've read all my files. You've followed every mission, every rumor. Surely, you aren't surprised by my ability to read into the minds of others. I think I'd be pretty disappointed in you if you thought otherwise."

A broad grin spread across Wolff's face. "Oh, don't worry. I was counting on it."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

"And yet you still came. Sentiment is not an advantage, Kirk. Your attachment to your crew made you an easy target."

"I've told you before, Wolff. Don't underestimate me."

"And I've told you, I would never. Unlike the rest of the world, I know what you are truly capable of."

Jim bared his teeth. "You know nothing of what I'm capable of, Wolff."

Even Jim didn't know the extent of the entirety of his abilities - he had never completely lost his control over himself. He was too afraid of letting out the monster he had hidden so deep inside him.

"Well, let's see if you have time to save your precious friends."

The way Wolff said it put Jim on edge and tense for anything.

"You didn't really think that I would make it so easy for you, did you? You alone can stand-in for a small elite army. I would never risk you reaching me so obviously."

Wolff turned and shouted, "Engage," to somebody off screen. A wicked smirk was on his face when his attention was back on Kirk. "You were never meant to reach the ground, Kirk."

At the same time, the console started flashing red, indicating an incoming attack. By the shape and size, it was an archaic missile that had locked in on his location.

Jim's blue eyes widened as he realized that there was nothing he could do to prevent the imminent strike, especially within the one minute countdown. He thought he would have more time.

Wolff cackled on screen. "Goodbye, Kirk. This is the end for you."

Jim swiveled back around, snarling. "In your fucking dreams." And he slammed his hand down on the console, shutting off the transmission.

"Shit!" Jim swore under his breath, glancing briefly at the radar to see how long he had. There was twenty seconds left on the screen.

"Keptin?!" Chekov barked out.

Jim scrambled, hands moving faster than they have ever before.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Jim felt panic lick at him. There wasn't enough time!

Three.

Two.

One.

Jim closed his eyes.

This was it.

Zero.

McCoy felt his heart leap when he first saw Jim alive and unharmed on screen. His best friend looked worn and yet, alert at the same time. His eyes were so bright and determined. He was the same old Jim who was in "mission-mode", albeit with more bruises than he usually started out with. For anyone who didn't know Jim so personally like McCoy, Spock, and Sulu, they wouldn't have been able to see the touch of fear in Jim's expressions as they did - fear for them as opposed to himself.

That worried them more than anything else.

Jim was going to be blind to everything and everyone if he was scared for them. That fear would transform into pinpoint focus on saving them and getting them to safety, no matter the cost. No matter if it cost Jim is own life.

And then McCoy, Spock, and Sulu watched Wolff's missile blow up the small, already slightly damaged shuttle on a different screen. They all flinched at the sound of the loud explosion.

Debris exploded everywhere and fire consumed the metal. Large chunks of the shuttle plummeted to the ground with the full force of gravity working against it. In seconds, there was nothing left that hadn't been destroyed by the missile.

Shock and numbness filled McCoy, Spock, and Sulu. Their ever loyal belief and faith in Jim whispered at them, telling them that he survived, but logic yelled at them, screaming that no human could have survived such a blast.

It seemed that Wolff had a similar train of thought. "Find his body and bring it to me," Wolff barked out. "And if you can't find it, assume he's alive and hunt him down and take him out."

He turned to eye the three hanging there. All managed to keep their expressions neutral, hiding their alarm for Jim in a crevice of their hearts where Wolff could not touch and use against them.

"Mr. Spock, what is the probability of Kirk surviving that attack?" Wolff asked, sauntering forward with arrogance dripping with every step.

Spock refused to speak, only to have one of Wolff's men whip him across the back. His body flinched at the suddenness, but he felt no pain. He was far to composed for that, and Wolff knew it.

"Answer me, Mr. Spock, or I will begin to torture your friends instead."

Jim would never forgive Spock if he let "Bones" and Sulu get hurt on his behalf, so he gave Wolff a hard glare. "0.12%," he said.

"So low. Do you believe he survived?"

There was no hesitation. "Yes."

Wolff grinned broadly. "I do too. It just wouldn't be fun if Kirk didn't stick around for a little bit more."

"You're a sick bastard, you know that?" McCoy gritted out. "What could you possibly gain from toying with Jim?"

"Satisfaction."

"What the hell did he ever do to you?" snapped Sulu.

At that, Wolff's expressions twisted and his true face bled through. "He existed, which in the eyes of Starfleet, erased mine."

"Your conspirators – they banded under you out of fear of Jim, but clearly, you have a different agenda than they," Spock said slowly, his mind connecting the dots. "You were using them in order to climb the ranks faster. Do they know? Do they know that you are a traitor to all sides?"

"No, and they will never know. Do you know why?"

Sulu rolled his eyes. "I have a feeling you're going to say that you're going to kill us so you won't have any witnesses to your confession. Please don't. I'm already bored enough as it is. You're going to kill me with your lame-ass clichés before you even get a chance to raise your gun or knife or what other clichéd weapon you're going to kill me with. At least with Kirk, it was always entertaining because he was just that damn unpredictable."

Then, an uncharacteristic glare of steel replaced any trace of amusement or boredom that Sulu had on his face. "And that unpredictableness is what's going to kill you, Wolff. But that's if Kirk can get his hands on you before I can."

"Get in line," growled McCoy, glaring at Wolff as if looks could kill. "I'm first."

"You are second, Doctor. Vulcans have a much faster reaction time than humans," Spock almost snarled.

Wolff just chuckled at them and waved away their threats. "If I'm not worried about Kirk, then I'm certainly not worried about his dogs that have been collared." He turned to his men. "Take them back to their cells." He paused and grinned at the three. "After you whip them into submission. I can't have such insolence go unrewarded, can I?"

He walked off, smugness rolling off him. "Just don't kill them. I'll like to do that in front of Kirk when he manages to show his face."

"And if he doesn't?" Wolff's grunt asked. "That explosion looked pretty big to me. It ain't likely that he survived."

"Well then, I'll have my fun killing them slowly, now wouldn't I?" grinned Wolff.

Sulu couldn't resist one last taunt. "Hopefully, with something original, you bombastic, hackneyed jackass."

Wolff's face twisted in true anger and swung around. "Whip him hardest," he hissed, pointing at Sulu.

Sulu felt a rush of satisfaction at breaking through that goddamn fake mask Wolff had on.

It was totally worth the extra whippings.

"You're an idiot," Uhura said loudly, her brown eyes watching the man lying on his stomach in the cell next to hers. With the extra electric shields, she couldn't even reach over to brush the hair out of his eyes, no matter how much she wanted to.

Sulu gave a huff, wincing as the movement jarred the open wounds on his back. The puff of air scattered some of the straw that lay beneath him. "Worth it," he gritted out.

"You're bleeding all over the ground," Uhura reminded him in an exasperated tone that she usually reserved for Kirk.

"So are Spock and McCoy!"

"Yes, but not as much as you." Uhura glanced over towards Scotty. "How's it looking for them?"

Scotty just nodded at her while keeping an eye on the two. Spock was sitting upright, halfway into a healing trance. His eyes were closed and he was clearly focusing on separating the pain from his consciousness and healing whatever he could before they were disturbed. McCoy, on the other hand, was also lying on his stomach, but there was no trace of pain on his face, save for the tiny strain by his eyes. He was conscious though, and he was obviously thinking hard about something. Out of the three of them, McCoy had been whipped least, but he was handling it far better than any of them would have imagined. Either he had taken a page out of Jim's book or he had a higher pain tolerance than any of them had thought.

"Betta than that one over there," Scotty replied, tilting his head towards the pilot.

"You just had to goad Wolf, didn't you?" sighed Uhura, turning her attention back on Sulu.

"Why are you picking on me?" protested Sulu. "Spock and McCoy aren't that much better than me!"

"Spock is a Vulcan and can go under a healing trance and Leonard was smart enough to keep his mouth shut when the prospect of torture is looming over his head."

"Someone had to say something," Sulu grumbled, "Couldn't exactly let him win, could I? Kirk would never have given him an inch, so why should I?"

Uhura wanted so much to seethe with frustration, but Sulu did have a point. There was no reason to give Wolff anything – not even the simple satisfaction that he had probably won the first and second round of this war against Kirk.

She sighed instead. "How are you doing?"

Sulu took a moment to answer. "I'll live."

"Leonard?" she called out.

"I'm fine," McCoy said.

"Are you really? Or are you just abiding to rule number twelve?"

Kirk's voice filtered through McCoy's mind as he remembered the first time he had ever heard that rule. It was when McCoy had dragged Jim out of another bar fight. The man had literally been pummeled to pieces, but he smirked and snarked like he was the king of the world – as if he hadn't been bleeding all over McCoy's uniform. Even now, McCoy could hear Jim's response to his "what the hell were you thinking? Just stay down the next time, ya idiot!" Jim had chuckled and gasped out, "Rule number twelve: never show weakness, especially if you've been beaten to the ground."

The crew had come to know this rule intimately through their various missions that had gone haywire. No matter how injured or wounded Jim was, he would always stand up with that famous cocky smirk on his face and proceed to wipe the floor with his genius. Even if he was an inch away from death (which has happened one too many times before), there would always be that smile on his face that hid away any weaknesses that his body had.

They didn't truly understand why Jim abided by that rule particularly. They had attributed it to a habit that Jim picked up over his horrific childhood and teenage years, but now? They fully understood where Jim was coming from.

It wasn't pride or a scar from the past: it was simply a way to push himself and keep going – to not let go and to hang on to whatever strength was left.

If his will broke, then all would but lost, but if he never showed weakness, then the enemy wouldn't know where to hit for it to hurt. He could even pretend that he was fine and push on. It was a form of strength that always kept Jim and those around him going, and it was something that the rest of them had unconsciously picked up.

McCoy didn't know when they started to follow Jim's rules, but now seemed to be the perfect time to utilize them. "A little bit of both," he responded truthfully.

His back was burning like no other and his muscles ached every time he breathed, and he was sure that Sulu was worse off than him, but if Sulu wasn't complaining, then he wouldn't either. Besides, there were more important things to attend to than his discomfort.

"We need a plan," he said. "Jim survived that blast, which means he's coming for us. We have to get out before he gets to us."

"I thought we established that already," Sulu retorted. "Just because we're bleeding all over the floor doesn't mean that that plan changes."

"We have to speed up the time table. I have no doubt that Jim escaped, but there's no way that he did so unscathed. He's going to be hurt somewhere or another. We can't have him running around in the middle of foreign and hostile territory like that."

"What was Spock's probability on Kirk surviving?" Uhura asked gently.

"0.12%," Sulu replied.

She let out a low breath. "That's the lowest Spock has ever predicted. And that's less than what he said for Nero."

"0.43% is not that far off. Besides, this is Kirk we're talking about."

"Aye, that laddie saw this comin', no doubt about it," Scotty said. "He'll have planned for it."

Uhura was quiet when she spoke again. "What if he didn't have enough time? From what you said, it didn't seem like he did."

"Don't think like tha," Scotty scolded.

"But what if?!" she cried out. She looked down at her hands with tears that threatened to fall. "Kirk's not invincible, no matter how much we think he is. What are we going to do if something happens to him?"

Sulu struggled to his elbows, ignoring how his body desperately protested against it and propping himself up so that he could give Uhura an even and determined stare. "On the very, very small chance that Kirk got himself blown up by someone as ridiculous as Wolff, then we do the only thing left for us."

"And what's that?"

"We make Wolff and everyone else rue the day they first heard of James T. Kirk. And we take them down in a halo of flames, because that's what Kirk would like. The man likes explosions, so who are we to deny him that?"

"And after?"

Sulu shrugged. "Honestly, I haven't thought that far, but knowing him, he'll probably want us to move on. We should live our lives until we're old and wrinkled like prunes, because that's what Kirk will want for us. If that idiot sacrifices his life for us, the only thing we can do to honor him is to live out our days happy and content."

McCoy snorted. "Yeah, like that'll ever happen if that idiot isn't here. He doesn't even realize what he represents in our lives. Selfish bastard who doesn't understand his self-worth."

"Oh, I totally agree," Sulu said readily. "I never said that that's what we will do. Just that that's what we should do, but Kirk's family, and I refuse to even think that far. Anyhow, he's one crazy son of a bitch, so I have total faith that he's still alive and kicking. So until he makes his way to us or we make our way to him, we're going to wreak so much havoc that Wolff regrets even messing with us in the first place. Agreed?"

Uhura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You're still bleeding all over the floor, Sulu."

"Ye of little faith. Aren't we glass half-full people?"

"You certainly are," she shot back fondly. Kirk was rubbing off on all of them. That stubbornness was so Kirk-ish that it made her smile and bring back her optimism. "So, what's the plan?"

It was then when Spock opened his eyes, pulling out of his trance.

"Spock?" Uhura called out, concern lacing her words.

"You got a plan, hobgoblin?" McCoy asked gruffly.

"I do not."

They all groaned out in frustration.

"However," Spock continued, "I do have an idea."

"Isn't that the same thing, you green-blooded bat? Couldn't you just say that you have a plan in the first place?"

"But I do not have a plan. Our situation is more complex than what my logic and reasoning can overcome."

As realization dawned on McCoy, he let his head hit the ground in exasperation. "Please don't tell me what I think you're going to say."

"As I do not know what you are thinking, I cannot assure you of that."

"Just spit it out, Spock!" Uhura exclaimed.

"Considering how dire our circumstances have become, I propose that we do something drastic."

Light lit up in all their eyes as they figured out what Spock was hinting at before he even said it.

"We're going to pull off a 'Kirk', aren't we?" grinned Sulu.

Spock nodded, despite his silent objections to how Sulu worded things.

Scotty chuckled, excitement making his voice louder. "Laddies and bonnie, let's make Jim proud."

And if Jim was around, he would be, but as it was, they were on their own. At least for now.

Or so they hoped, because they didn't think they would know what to do if it was permanent.

All they knew was that Wolff had better run and run as far as he could.

This was hardly the end of any of them, least of all, Kirk, but in case it was, then this was just the beginning.

This was the beginning of the nightmare that Wolff would never wake from.

They would make sure of it.

To be continued...

Hi people! Sorry for the late update. School was particularly crippling this semester and next semester is going to be even worse. Again, these updates are going to be slow, but I promise, I am working on them. I write whenever I get the chance. And I am also working on the next chapter for Ingenious Idiot, promise. But again, the updates are going to be slow for both sides, sorry. But I hope you all stick with me! Thank you all for supporting me and for all the kind reviews!

As always, please read and review!

Cheers,

Yuna