Chapter 12
Ready, Aim, Fire
Time passed, slowly and painfully. Jim didn't know how long he had been sitting under the tree, but it had been long enough for him to lose all feeling in his legs and heart. Thea still lay in his arms, like a sad, beautiful porcelain doll.
Jim couldn't bear to let her go yet.
He was so cold and numb, like he had been shoved and buried under a mountain of ice. Logically, some part of him knew that he had to get up soon - to go back to Chekov, Liam, and the kids. But he couldn't face them quite yet. He had failed. Again. Over and over. When was he going to learn that nothing - nothing - good ever came from him? And now Thea had paid the price.
He closed his eyes again, feeling such emptiness in his broken soul. His tears had long dried, leaving tracks on his cheeks, but his body still ached. His eyes still burned.
Thea's words echoed in his mind. "Promise me you'll save them."
It was just enough to move his tired body. He had promised. He had already broken one. He wasn't about to break another.
He reached over Thea and shouldered both her bow and cache of arrows before rising ever so gently with Thea in his arms. He carried her like a princess - delicately and preciously. He didn't pay any attention to the men lying on the ground around them. Oddly, he felt no anger or hatred towards them, though he knew he should. But all he felt was nothing as he walked silently through the woods, back to the cave. Back to her brother. Whom he had failed.
Chekov was the first to greet him when he returned, his words dying on his lips when he saw Thea in his arms. He took one look at Jim's face and knew, with such sorrow, that Thea wasn't merely sleeping.
Liam was the next to see. He had run out the moment he heard Chekov gasp. He came to a complete standstill, staring disbelievingly at Jim's somber expression.
"Thea?" he called out tentatively, his voice meek and trembling like a mouse.
The other children came pouring out at the sound of her name, but all came to a stop at the sight before them. Chekov gently reached forward, bringing the kids closer to him in his attempt to shield them from the tragedy in front of them.
They knew anyway. They had seen death already, the scenes scorched into their young minds from when Greenaway and his men took their parents away from them. And now it had happened again.
Whimpers erupted from each child, tears rushing down. The saddest thing of all was that even with all their sorrow and all their pain, they still could not cry out loud, too scared that they'd be heard.
And all Jim could do was whisper brokenly. "I'm sorry."
It was all he offered. It was all he could offer.
He had expected Liam to drop to his knees and wail his entire heart out, like he did, at the loss of his one and only sister - his last remaining family. But all Liam did was step forward, tears heavy in his eyes, as he took his sister from Jim.
Jim let him and watched, frozen to his spot, as Liam struggled to carry his sister. She was easily the same weight as him and he was barely strong enough to hold her, but the strength from his love for her was just enough to bring her into the cave.
Gently, like she was a piece of glass, he laid her onto the ground and pulled a tattered blanket over her. It wasn't quite long enough to cover her face, but Liam wasn't ready for that anyway. He reached out and touched her cheek lovingly, caressing her, brushing her bangs out of the way, and smoothing out her hair.
Jim hadn't moved from where he stood a distance from the cave. Seeing Liam like that made him break his silence. He had to. It was his fault that she was dead.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect her," he said softly, grief and guilt so heavy in words, like metal chains dragging them down into the black abyss. He wasn't expecting forgiveness or absolution – he didn't deserve it in the slightest, but he had to say it.
Liam didn't respond for a while, and just sat there, staring at his sister. "What were her last words, Captain?"
Jim flinched harshly at the use of his title, and his grimace didn't go unnoticed by Chekov, but the Navigator remained quiet, knowing full well that he had no role in this conversation. This was something that Jim and Liam had to say.
"'Thank you.' Those were her last words."
Liam smiled sadly, gently brushing her hair with his fingers. "That's just like her."
There was a beat of silence where Jim really registered what Liam was saying. Liam wasn't angry or heartbroken. He was…accepting.
Somewhere, something within Jim broke more (he didn't think it was possible anymore), and he couldn't help but blurt out, "It shouldn't have been that. She shouldn't have said that."
Liam looked at Jim with such strength in his eyes that it made Jim shatter completely. His sister just died, and it looked like he was trying to give what was essentially his sister's killer solace. "Why shouldn't it have been 'thank you'? You saved her, didn't you?"
Jim couldn't take it anymore. He snapped out of his numb revere with such vehemence that his body came screaming back to life. "She's dead! How the hell did I save her?! I couldn't protect her! I didn't save her!"
"There is more than one way to save people. For her, to go peacefully enough to say 'thank you' as her last words was proof enough of that."
Liam opened his mouth again to speak, and Jim had a feeling that he was going to thank him too. And Jim was having none of it.
"No no, don't do that. Don't thank me. Don't forgive me. I'm the reason she's dead! I killed her! If I had never shown up in your lives, she would still be here with you! So don't be understanding. Don't be kind! Yell at me! Blame me! Hate me!" Jim cried, falling and falling until his knees jarred with the impact of the ground. He kept his eyes down, unable to look at Liam, Thea, or the kids anymore. "Please..." he whispered. "Please. Don't forgive me. I don't deserve it. She's dead because of me."
He heard small footsteps approach him, and he looked up to see the kids surrounding him. Danny reached forward and hugged Jim tightly. Jim could feel the wetness of Danny's tears on his cheeks.
"Thea said it's okay to be sad when you're sad. I'm sad too. But she said everything will be okay," he said quietly in his childish voice.
Jim couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He was crumbling; the pieces of his heart and soul shattering into smaller fragments. The unraveling string that had kept him together up until now had snapped, its edges frayed and destroyed. Only Danny's impossibly thin arms were the only thing that kept him anchored in his sea of grief.
But he was drowning still, and Liam and Chekov could see it.
Liam stood and slowly walked towards Jim, coming a stop a mere foot away from him. He placed his hands on his hips and glared strongly at Jim, quite reminiscent of his sister when Jim first met her. Before Jim caused her death. "Thea said that you were our best bet of surviving. Knowing her, she gave her life for that. What will you do now? Are you just going to break down right now or do you have one more fight in you? You promised that you'd save these kids. Even if you don't think you can, you have to. Because you made a promise to her."
"Think of your friends, think of the villagers and kids. You can't let Greenaway get away with this. You can't let him win! Otherwise, Thea's death would be meaningless! This all happened because of Greenaway and Wolff! Make them pay for what they've done! Make them regret that they took Thea away from us! So stand up, Captain! You can't give up now!"
He was right of course.
This was the way it always was. Even when he was too tired, too broken, Jim couldn't rest. He couldn't just give up. People's lives rested on his shoulders. People counted on him. Since when had to become too much for him? Since when did Jim allow that to happen after Tarsus? Didn't he swear that, never again, would he find himself back on Tarsus? To never go back to that…monster?
He was so tired of feeling stretched far too thin – so tired of being so damn afraid that he was going to lose everything again. More than that, he was afraid of what he would become when this all ended. Thus far, he had managed to hang on to himself, just barely, with the presence of Chekov nearby. It was one of the main reasons why he had made sure that he brought Chekov with him to this godforsaken planet. Because he knew himself all too well. He knew all the secrets that he had so meticulously and carefully buried in the deep, dark crevices of his mind, locked behind steel bars.
And it was awakening, drawn by the tattered remains of his heart; the cries of his soul just begging to be done, to give up.
He could feel it coming, killing whatever was left of 'Jim', just as it had killed 'James' a lifetime ago. He had felt it for a while now, long before Wolff even came into his life, but unlike all those other times, Jim felt no need to fight against it anymore. In fact, he was more than willing, because that, that was better than the utter anguish Jim was feeling. It was stronger than he was now. It could fill the void and make him move when he could not.
It could save his friends. It could save those kids.
It would make him keep his promise.
Jim closed his eyes. The doors to that prison opened, and in the darkness, a foot strode out into the light. Jim watched as J.T. walked out to his freedom, stopping mere inches away from him.
"Finally," J.T. whispered, a grim, feral expression on his face. "You let me out."
"I couldn't let you out before. You're a monster."
"Aren't we both?"
A sigh. "Yes."
"Then shall go together?"
J.T. raised a hand. Jim looked at it for a brief second, hesitating. He knew what it meant to give in, but he couldn't win against Wolff the way he was right now: shattered into a thousand million pieces.
Who needed grief when anger was available?
Jim clasped J.T.'s hand, and there was a flash of white light.
When he opened his eyes again, they were no longer that gorgeous, bright cerulean color that so many had come to equate to as hope.
No, when Jim opened his eyes again, they were a dead, lifeless grey color that blazed with the need for blood. For vengeance.
"Keptin?" Chekov asked cautiously when he saw his Captain's entire posture change before his eyes. A mere moment ago, Jim had been bowed and trampled, his body almost as small as Danny's. But now? There was a quiet strength in his limbs that made Chekov feel…scared…of his friend. Jim hadn't made a single noise, but for some odd reason, Chekov felt like there was a complete stranger before him. Jim seemed like a cobra, silently and deadly, and when he raised his head at Chekov's call, Chekov's heart sank.
Jim Kirk, his Captain, his friend, his brother, was no longer here.
This was someone that Chekov had only seen flashes of before when times were most dire and dark. It was someone that Jim had so desperately tried to quash down. And Chekov knew that he wasn't strong enough to snap Jim out of it. Especially not when Jim had so clearly decided to give in to that part of him. To be honest, Chekov didn't know if he wanted to.
He had watched Jim fall apart before his eyes, all of his spirit to fight, to struggle, gone. But this man before him…He knew that this man was a fighter. A survivor. And if that was what kept Jim going, it would have to do for now, because Chekov wasn't going to lose anyone else either.
This Jim could save their friends. This Jim could save McCoy and Spock – the only two people left alive now that could bring Jim back from this brink. And they would have to do it before the Jim they loved disappeared completely.
"Keptin," Chekov said again, this time with more resolution in his voice. "Vhat are your orders?"
"Don't call me that," Jim replied, his voice soft and nearly monotone. "I'm not your Captain anymore."
Gently, he pulled away from Danny and stood. Before, Jim would've patted Danny on the head to be comforting and reassuring, but this Jim just stepped away, ignoring Danny's existence like he was nothing. It was a blaring, red flashing warning sign. Chekov would have to move quickly.
"We stick to the plan, Chekov. We're going to bring down Greenaway and Wolff."
Chekov made to give Jim back the phaser he had, but Jim shook his head. "Keep it, Chekov. You're going to need it. Here." Jim handed Chekov the backpack. "You know what to do. I'll buy you one hour. Get ready."
He pulled out the communicator that he had stolen from the soldiers a day ago and pressed it, turning around so that he no longer could see Liam and the kids surrounding Thea.
"Wolff. Come in. I know you're listening. Answer me, Wolff."
It took a couple of minutes before Wolff responded, but Jim had all the patience in the world right now. "Kirk, it's so nice to hear your voice. I'm glad to know that you're still alive."
Jim's voice was so icy that it froze the blood in Chekov's veins. "Congratulations, Wolff. You have finally succeeded where so many before you have failed."
"And what is that?"
"You have successfully made me extremely angry."
Wolff scoffed. "Is that supposed to frighten me?"
"If you're smart, it should."
"The wrath of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules."
"That's where you're wrong, Wolff." Pure anger and venom dripped from Jim's words, cutting like daggers. "Good men don't need rules. Today is the day you're going to find out why I have so many."
He hung up, his fingers tightening so hard around the communicator that he almost broke it.
Jim was never a good man. It was time to stop pretending to be one.
He turned again, finally facing Liam. "I will keep my promise to Thea. I will come back for you all. But I can't bring you with me. So stay here, keep quiet, and wait for my people to come for you. Do you understand me?"
Liam nodded, fierce like his sister was. "Yes. And you better come back yourself, Mister."
Jim didn't offer a smile or anything like he usually did. He just looked away, not replying to Liam. He glanced at Chekov, seeing the determination and resolve in his tightened expression. "You ready, Chekov?" he asked as he handed Chekov his backpack.
Chekov nodded, taking the bag and slinging it over his own shoulder. "Always, sir."
Jim nodded once. "Let's go."
Scotty's work was almost completed. He estimated that he had about an hour and a half before he fried the electrical field around their prison bars, freeing them to get to Jim. It was beyond luck that they had been undisturbed during the entire time that Scotty was working (or maybe Wolff simply was busy trying to figure out where Jim disappeared off to). Spock could quietly counsel Scotty, McCoy and Sulu could rest, and Uhura could keep a watch during the course of the night.
They had been making good time too – with Spock's help, they were about two to three hours ahead of schedule, but it still was not fast enough.
Before they knew it, the communicator in Uhura's hand rumbled to life, gaining all of their attention. There was a second of static before Jim's voice filtered through.
"Wolff. Come in. I know you're listening. Answer me, Wolff."
Jim's voice was cold like ice, with a dead-like undercurrent in his tone. Immediately, they all knew that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. Never in their entire lives have they ever heard Jim so…despondent and apathetic at the same time, as if he had completely cut himself off from any emotion. A heavy feeling grew in their stomachs; their heartbeats picking up speed with fear.
They held their breath, waiting for Wolff's response. It took a couple of minutes before Wolff's voice crackled to life. "Kirk, it's so nice to hear your voice. I'm glad to know that you're still alive." He sounded gleeful, and it made them all hate him just that much more.
Jim was obvious in no mood for banter, his words short and clipped. "Congratulations, Wolff. You have finally succeeded where so many before you have failed."
"And what is that?"
"You have successfully made me extremely angry."
Wolff scoffed. "Is that supposed to frighten me?"
"If you're smart, it should."
"The wrath of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules."
"That's where you're wrong, Wolff. Good men don't need rules. Today is the day you're going to find out why I have so many."
Then he hung up.
It was the most ominous foreboding that any of them had ever heard.
"Oh shit…" cursed Sulu.
"I do not believe I have ever heard Jim speak like that," Spock said, a frown making its way to his usually implacable face.
"Neither have I…" breathed McCoy, panic making his eyes shine.
If they weren't alarmed by now, they certainly were now. If McCoy, who had been through thick and thin with Jim, hadn't heard Jim ever speak in that tone? Armageddon had just begun.
Sulu swung around to stare at them. "What the hell happened to make him say something like that? What the hell is he planning on doing now?"
"What did Wolff do that finally enraged Jim?" Spock questioned. "In all the times we have been with him, Jim has never lost himself to anger. We have seen him frustrated and irritated, but never angry. It is highly illogical. Jim is too calculating to allow his emotions to guide his actions."
"It must've been something huge," Uhura added. "Kirk would never get angry on his own behalf. Maybe we were threatened again? Or maybe he found some of the villagers and something happened to them?"
"Whatever it is, Jim's snapped. Rule number four: rules are meant to keep you in place. Throw them out and you have chaos," McCoy quoted. He inched towards the bars, just a hair's breadth away from touching. His desire to shake the bars until he was freed was shared amongst everyone. "We need to get out of here. Now."
Scotty nodded, his fingers dancing faster. Sparks flew. "Ah just need one more hour."
"We don't have an hour," McCoy growled.
Anger suddenly flared deep within Uhura. She was scared, exhausted, and extremely worried about Jim – more than she'd like to admit. She could feel herself being drawn tightly like a drawstring, wound up too much and just ready to snap. Jim was out there doing who-knew-what and all she could do was sit there, completely useless. It made her feel so weak and pathetic.
The ball of red, hot fury lashed out again, like a solar flare. Her voice rose in volume. "What do you want him to do, Leonard?" asked Uhura. "He's already trying his best! You're a doctor! Can't you see the blood on his fingers already?"
McCoy immediately rallied sharply back. "You think I don't see that?! Yeah, I feel bad that Scotty's gotta do that, but I don't think you understand what the fuck is about to happen!" he snarled.
"Then explain, Leonard! Why the hell do you keep acting like the end of the world is coming?" she snapped, rising to her feet.
McCoy also leapt upwards, going toe-to-toe with the bars, returning her harsh glare. Fear and worry made both their blood boil. "Because it is! Jim is going to tear this fucking planet apart! Right now, he wants to take Wolff and his men down, and he's going to eliminate anyone and anything that stands in his way, regardless of the aftermath! At this point, we're not going to have to worry about whether or not Jim survives this or comes out unscathed. We're have to worry about him dealing with the fallout!"
He started pacing. "The last time I heard Jim sound even close to that was back in the Academy. Some terrorist group got wind that I was close to Jim and I ended up getting kidnapped and got held hostage. Jim went off on a completely unsanctioned rescue mission and turned himself in to the terrorists to find me. He took one look at the blood on my head and something shifted in him. He told the terrorists that they were going to regret touching me. They punched me and I passed out, but when I woke again, everyone was dead. Lying in a pool of blood. It looked like a fucking massacre. And all Jim did was take me to the nearest hospital, drop me off, and disappear off the grid for about two months. By the time he got back to the Academy, he was different. Distant. Took me almost three months to get him to look at me in the eyes. Another year for everything to go back to normal."
McCoy stopped moving, took a deep breath and exhaled, composing himself. "I've told you before that Jim was always afraid to become a monster. It's because he knows what he's capable of. Hell, we've seen smidges of it over the years. Remember all those times that he sent a shiver down your spine? Or made you afraid for one brief second? We forget because he's our brother and our Captain. The whole universe doesn't see it past his brilliant bravery, but James T. Kirk is dangerous when he means to be. And he knows it. He's afraid of it. And when he's cornered and has no other choice? That is what he's going to fall back on, because he knows it works, however awful that may be. So yeah, forgive me if I think the world is ending. That's because Jim will make it happen."
Silence fell, disrupted only by the sounds of Scotty working. The Scottish man had started to move more feverishly at McCoy's words, but generally seemed to ignore everything that was going on around him. He had a more important task at hand than to mitigate the heat between McCoy and Uhura that had yet to subside entirely.
"There, there. Calm down, children," sighed Sulu, also getting to his feet, albeit slowly and hiding a grimace of pain. He could feel his back burning with an unnatural fire and throb with each heartbeat. It meant infection, but Sulu wasn't about to say anything. Not when Jim was in trouble (though he was pretty sure that the others already knew).
"Look, we're all extremely worried about Kirk. McCoy, you know that Scotty's working as hard as he can, and Uhura, lay off on McCoy. We're all on edge right now. We're all itching to do something, but we can't. All we can do right now is keep our heads until Scotty's done. Then we'll go and stop Kirk," said Sulu.
"And if we're too late?" McCoy almost whispered.
"Then we make sure that he's not alone."
"It ain't that simple, Sulu."
"No, it isn't. But since when did we ever let that deter us?" Sulu became uncharacteristically solemn. "We're all going to make it through this. Kirk included. I swear."
They had to. There were no other options left.
Jim actually found himself a bit surprised that Wolff didn't have his entire army greeting him when he arrived alone at the castle. He stood several hundred feet away from the entrance, surrounded by the grassy clearing. Thea's bow and arrows were hanging off his right shoulder. He had a Glock in his left hand and his boot knife in the other. His stance was casual, but his grey eyes burned with an icy fire.
He didn't have to wait very long – he had had no doubt that Wolff was tracking his every movement, and he hadn't bothered hiding from any of the surveillance cameras that were hidden around the castle entrance. Within minutes of his arrival, Wolff's private army marched out, spreading out in a lined formation about a hundred feet away from Jim.
Jim just watched them move, making none of his own. He stood, unwavering, as about three hundred men came to a stop before him. The front lines carried swords; the ones behind were equipped with Glocks and other types of archaic handguns. It seemed that Wolff had a shortage of modern weaponry – none had any phasers or anything more advanced. It didn't matter to Jim though. He had one mission – one goal – and he was going to bring down anything that stood in his way, regardless of the difficulty or the recklessness of his plan.
A tense silence fell over the army as they waited for Jim to make a move, but he didn't even so much as blink until Wolff made his appearance, standing at the parapet directly above the castle's gate. He was accompanied by Greenaway, whom Jim recognized through pictures he had seen so very long ago. On either side of them was a small number of soldiers, armed with AK-47's.
The sight of Wolff and Greenaway didn't fuel his anger, as he thought it would. Instead, he felt the iciness within him spread, freezing the boiling blood within his body and making his joints ache for action ever so terribly.
"You finally came," Wolff grinned, letting his voice carry over his mute soldiers. "I feel so honored."
"This was what you wanted, wasn't it, Wolff? Me here at your mercy," Jim replied, his words cutting through the air like an icicle. "I must say, this was probably the stupidest idea you have ever had in your entire life. It'll be your last, Wolff."
"I think it's rather brilliant. Where is that girl of yours? I thought you would bring her with you. It would be cruel to let her continue to suffer, just as your crew is."
"What have you been telling the Enterprise to keep them up there?" Jim asked instead. "Do they know that you killed Dreyes and framed me in order to rebel against the Federation?"
Wolff laughed loudly. "You think me foolish enough to tell the grunts what my plans are? Even if they have realized that there was something wrong, they wouldn't be able to beam down. I've implanted a virus onboard that only people of our caliber can overwrite."
"I wouldn't underestimate my people, Wolff."
"You were the only one that posed a threat, Kirk. But I still managed to frame you for killing Dreyes and take over the Enterprise without any difficulties. When this is all over, the Federation will erase you from history to cover up the shame of having one of their own committing treason."
There was a beat of silence before Jim raised his head more. "How did it feel to kill Dreyes – your mentor for years – by your own hands? Was it easy? To stab him so many times and feel his blood dye your hands red?"
A satisfied and a wicked smile spread across Wolff's face. "I had never felt so excited before in my entire life."
"You fucking psychopath."
"What are you going to do about it, Kirk? Are you going to play hero again?"
Jim shook his head. "I'm no hero. I have never claimed to be one. And I never will be."
Greenaway stepped forward, disgust evident on his expressions. "Then what are you, Kirk? You, whose past is darker than hell itself, don't deserve to live. Why do you continue to fight against us? Why do you continue to struggle?"
There was no hesitation in Jim's next words. "I'm a killer. A murderer. My hands are stained in blood. The weight of all those lives I have taken are chains on my soul, dragging me straight down to hell. So you're right. I don't deserve to live. But even so," Jim raised his knife to point directly at the two of them, "If I allow you to keep going, more innocent people will suffer. And I won't let that happen. Even if I die here, I will stop you."
"You alone against my army and I?" Wolff scoffed incredulously. "You have no backup, no friends, no hope."
Jim's eyes were cold and dead. "You're right. I have nothing. Which means I have nothing left to lose."
"You still have everything left to lose, Kirk. Your friends are still in my dungeons. Would you like me to bring them out and show you what loss feels like?"
"I am more than accustomed to loss, Wolff, as you well know." Jim shifted a tad, his stance wavering between a viper ready to strike and an aggressive wolf thirsting for blood. "I thought you wanted to bring me to my knees, Wolff. What better way is there than to use your men to bring me to your feet?"
Wolff cocked his head curiously. "You really believe you can win, don't you?"
"I don't, but you made a fatal mistake, Wolff. You made me break a promise. And for that, I will make you pay, no matter the cost. Today, right here and right now, one of us will die. For that, I don't have to win. All I have to do is kill you."
"Amusing. I accept your challenge, Kirk, and when you fall, just barely clinging to the edge of life, I'll bring out your friends and let you watch as I kill each one, slowly and agonizingly."
"Words, Wolff. I'm a man of action. Just remember, when this is all over: I warned you. An empire can fall in one day. And I will make sure yours does today."
In one fluid movement, Jim raised the stolen gun in his left hand and shot at the soldier standing at the lead of the army. A bullet hole appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, in the center of the hapless man's head. He crumpled, dead at his comrades' feet.
Jim moved his wrist just an inch and watched as Wolff's face entered the line of sight of his gun. "You're next."
Undaunted, Wolff raised a hand and immediately, battle cries rose from the ranks of the army. The men rushed forward, their swords waving as they sought for Jim's blood.
Jim didn't blink, even with his back to the wall. War was something he knew deeply; he had always survived from one fight to another. There was a sense of relief and calm that swept through him as the chaos surrounded him. Darkness fell all around him. He knew this darkness intimately. He didn't have to think. He didn't have to feel. All he had to do was be. Be the monster that he knew that he was.
There was no going back now.
With movements like a dancer, Jim swept out his arms - his right slicing through the air with his short blade and his left shooting with unerring accuracy. When he ran out of bullets, he threw the gun at another man's head with such force that he fell down unconscious almost immediately.
Ducking a sword, Jim cleanly cut through the femoral artery of another man while sweeping down to pick up a fallen sword. In the next second, he tossed his knife at someone's chest and kicked at another's knee, sending him to the ground. Jim jammed the hilt of his sword hard against the back of a soldier's neck and picked up another sword. Now armed with dual blades, Jim quickly made his way through the crowd, turning and slicing. He punched and kicked, knocking swords and guns out of people's hands before stabbing or cutting in retaliation.
He was calm and calculated. Completely ruthless. Bodies dropped like rain around his constantly shifting feet. Single-handedly, Jim was leaving piles of dead behind him, but it wasn't without its costs.
A sword had managed to slice through his upper arm, but it was shallow enough that he barely felt it. Bullet grazes nicked his right side and someone had got a lucky kick in, leaving behind a heavy bruise to develop on Jim's ribs, but he never even felt them.
His entire body was numb, consumed by bloodlust and his overwhelming desire for revenge. His blue eyes had gone completely grey. The brightness was gone, leaving behind a look of apathy and detachment. No longer was he James T. Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise, or Jim Kirk, the man who was famous for a heart as golden as the sun. The skills and strength that Jim had used to save worlds was now being utilized to destroy all that was before him, like he had done a lifetime ago.
But he wasn't quite the ferocious beast that was J.T. of Tarsus IV. J.T. was a dog pushed into a corner, untrained and feral. He was something entirely different now - something much more dangerous and lethal. Back then, he was still trying to protect his kids, allowing him to hang on to the last shred of the light that had made him human.
But that light was gone now.
All he wanted was destruction. All he wanted was vengeance. And that made him the most dangerous person in the universe.
Worst of all, he wanted blood. He thirsted for it.
By the stars that he had once loved so much, he was going to stain the green grass red.
"Ah got it!" exclaimed Scotty, turning to look at Sulu, even as he moved closer to the bars with the rigged communicator in his hands. "Laddie, ye best get ready. The rest of ye, back away."
McCoy and Spock instantly maneuvered a safe distance from the bars while Sulu just slammed the heel of his right boot down on the ground. A small compartment jutted out and he pulled out a portable lock-pick kit.
Uhura looked baffled at him as she scooted away from the bars. "You had that hidden in your boot?"
"Yeah," replied Sulu. "Kirk gave it to me."
"Does he have one too?"
"Naw, Kirk doesn't need something like this." He glanced up at Scotty. "I'm ready. Go for it."
Scotty did something to the wires of the communicator and a spark erupted. Just as it did, he leaned forward and jammed it against the bars. Electricity buzzed and made the entire room light up with the flares. It took all of a minute for the power in the communicator to overload the electric barrier.
The moment the lights faded, Sulu was upon the locks in a flash. His nimble fingers manipulated and in another moment, he heard a click. He quickly opened the door and shoved his way out, moving over to free his friends.
In five minutes, the five of them were running out. Spock and McCoy took the lead and Sulu trailed in the back – they had yet to find any weapons and the three of them were the best trained with hand-to-hand combat.
There was something wrong though. Their escape hadn't been quiet. The blast that took out that electric barrier had most definitely set off alarms, but yet, there wasn't a single soldier coming after them. In fact, there was no one in the castle.
They skidded to a stop, hidden behind a corner near the Great Hall. Spock kept a lookout, even as he spoke.
"It is too empty," he said quietly.
"Jim's made his move then," McCoy replied. "Wolff wouldn't leave us unguarded unless his attention was directed elsewhere. Shit."
"What do you purpose we do, Doctor?"
"I want to go after Jim, but I have a feeling that he's facing off Wolff alone without any backup. Before we do anything, we need to find some way to get the rest of the crew down here."
"And we need to find out who else Wolff and Greenaway have locked away," Uhura added. "Remember what the villagers said about their children being taken away? We can't just face Wolff directly. We need to attack him from every side possible. If we find and free the kids, he has no more leverage. Whoever was forced to fight for him will lay down their arms."
Spock nodded. "You have a point, Nyota. Doctor McCoy and I will find a way to free the rest of our crewmates. Lieutenant Sulu and Lieutenant Commander Scott will accompany you to find the children. Keep them and yourselves safe. We shall see you when the battle is over."
"Stay alive, you guys," Sulu said solemnly.
Spock and McCoy watched their three friends disappear down another hallway. The two shared a glance. Within that one look, a silent conversation went on. Worry and fear for their friends flashed through, but above all, there was a boiling anger that was threatening to erupt like a volcano. How dare Wolff and Greenaway put them all through this? Running and hiding around corners like a simple thief? It was just ridiculous.
They were the best friends of James T. Kirk. The commanders of the flagship Enterprise. They would not bend. They would not break. It was time they took their stance.
There was a time in a man's life that rules did not matter. Today was going to be that day.
Jim certainly was right. Good men did not need rules. And just for today, Spock and McCoy were certainly not going to let the fact that they were good men deter them from making Wolff and Greenaway pay.
They quickly made their way deeper into the castle, searching for any signs of a console room. Wolff couldn't have controlled the Enterprise from down here unless he had the technology readily available. It was more slow-going than what McCoy and Spock would've liked. Each passing second was another second that Jim was on his own, but other than going from room to room, there was nothing else that they could do.
The whole castle was eerily empty. Wolff truly didn't underestimate Jim. It was doubtful that a distrustful man such as Wolff would've had any maids or servants, which meant that Wolff had called out his entire army to face Jim, or so Spock and McCoy surmised.
Minutes ticked by. McCoy completely lost track of how long they searched, but based on the ever growing frown on Spock's face, it was too long. McCoy pushed himself faster.
Suddenly, a loud clatter erupted from a room just down the hall that they had been running down. Instantly, they made a beeline towards it and, with only a slight pause to ready themselves, they both kicked in the wooden door to see an intricate and advanced console that could almost match what they would find on the Enterprise take up the entire room.
And there was Chekov, dressed in all black, his hair greasy and messy, running complex programs through the system like he had been there all along.
"Chekov?!" McCoy exclaimed, shock and surprise making his voice louder than he had meant.
Chekov barely flinched, his eyes still glued at the screen before him as his fingers nimbly flew across the keyboards. He did spare McCoy and Spock a quick glance before turning back to the console. "Oh, good. You got yourselves out," Chekov stated in a tone that was almost like he was discussing the weather ever so causally.
It both infuriated and relieved McCoy. "What…How?" spluttered McCoy, unable to figure out what he wanted to know the most first.
Spock quickly jumped in. They did not have time for McCoy's 'eloquence'. "I think the doctor means to ask when and how you arrived to Zenobia," Spock said.
"And also why you didn't come save us," McCoy added, finally gathering his wits.
"I came with the Keptin," Chekov replied. "I vas going to save you once I reversed vhatever Volff did to the Enterprise. The Keptin can only buy us time for so long on his own."
"Wait…you came with Jim? Does that mean you were in that shuttle when it blew up?!" McCoy asked.
"Yes."
Immediately, McCoy was on the young teenager, checking over the kid without disturbing Chekov's ability to work on the programs. "You okay? How the hell did you two survive?"
"The Keptin threw us into storage unit. He had a bad concussion and I had few bruises, but ve vere relatively unharmed." Chekov replied, just as Spock came up to him to look over the lines of code that he was rapidly typing in. Spock quietly pointed something out on the screen and Chekov nodded, already incorporating Spock's suggestion to make a turn in the programming.
McCoy finished his inspection by the time Chekov finished speaking. Satisfied that Chekov wasn't lying, he asked the one question that was burning a hole through his gut. "Is Jim okay?"
At that, Chekov paused for a millisecond. He distinctly kept his eyes on the console. Silence reigned.
In that instant, Spock and McCoy knew that Jim wasn't fine, by any means.
"Chekov…what happened?" McCoy breathed.
Chekov replied hesitantly, trying to find the right words to fully describe how damaged and broken Jim had become since Thea's death. "The Keptin…last ve spoke, he didn't vant to be called 'Keptin' anymore."
McCoy sucked in a sharp inhale. He glanced at Spock who was openly exhibiting fear on his face.
"Why did Jim say that?" pressed Spock.
"Ve vere rescued by some kids after crash…" Chekov trailed off there, his brow furrowing as he tried to concentrate on a particularly tricky code.
"Oh shit…kids? Dreyes was right all along," swore McCoy, running his fingers through his hair. "This whole thing was going to cut too fucking close to his past. Jim's the strongest man I've ever met, but even he can't go through another Tarsus again. Tell me that those kids made it. Please."
Chekov didn't answer, but a slight tremble crept into his slender fingers.
"Damn it, Chekov. What the hell happened?"
"Does it matter?!" Chekov swung around all of a sudden, a snarl on his face. "Ve have only one way left to save the Keptin. And that's to save everyone else. So if you vould please, shut up."
That shut McCoy up effectively, and he found himself looking in awe at Chekov. He realized that that before his eyes was a man, not the little kid brother that they all loved. What the hell had happened for Chekov to suddenly grow up so fast? The rest of them had tried so hard to keep Chekov innocent and leave him to his childish naivety – a luxury that the most of them never had a chance to experience. They knew how brutal it was to have that innocence stripped away from them, which was why they tried so hard to protect Chekov. Jim, more than anyone, tried the hardest at this, and if he couldn't this time around? It scared McCoy to the core of his soul.
Chekov and Spock didn't even notice the turmoil that was undoubtedly flashing across his face like and open book, focusing on the console instead. A moment later, Chekov let out a cry of triumph as his code finally penetrated through Wolff's virus.
He quickly pulled out a communicator that he had on his belt and pressed a button, sending out two rapid beeps to the connecting line. Two beeps responded and Chekov let out a sigh of relief. At the same time, he hailed the Enterprise.
The line rang for barely a second before someone answered. It was Uhura's replacement and she looked completely frazzled and exhausted.
"Finally, sir," she sighed once she saw Spock, Chekov, and McCoy standing before. She turned around and shouted "I've got them!" before giving them her full attention, despite the sounds of movement behind her. "We've been trying to get through the lock that Captain Wolff had put on us for a few days without any avail. It is good to see you, sirs. I'm glad to see that you are all unharmed. We have been out of our minds with worry."
Chekov just nodded and inputted another communicator sequence into the keyboard. "I need you to track down the location of the communicator I just sent you. Gather anyone vho is ready to fight and beam them down to that location, armed and at the ready. Understand?"
She snapped to attention, her hand saluting her forehead. "Yes, sir." They could see her start typing on her console. "Location sent. Transporters look like they're working now too. Good. Beaming down now."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "You have not informed the security team or the rest of the crew to arm themselves."
She just smiled. "Commander, the crew was just about to blast a hole through the ship to get to you all. They didn't need to be told to get ready. Everyone made their way to the transporter the moment we realized that someone was reworking the virus."
Spock nodded, unsurprised and extremely glad of their loyalty. "I will need a full report once we return back onboard," Spock said.
"Of course." A ping could be heard and she touched something to answer it. "Looks like the first wave of our people just beamed down." She paused for a second. "Sir, where did we beam them down to?"
Chekov gave her a wickedly proud smile. "Vhere else? To Keptin Kirk."
Jim stood still, hunched over a little, as he panted heavily, but his grip on his sword was still strong. He had lost the other in the melee about five minutes ago; he had left in the body of a soldier. Blood oozed down from a cut on the side of his head and he watched it drip onto the ground, almost as if it was in slow motion. His muscles trembled with exertion and from heavy damage. The worst of his injuries were two gunshots wounds – once in the shoulder and another one slicing through his left side. Both went through-and-through, but the blood loss was making his vision blur. He had lost count of how many grazes and lacerations now covered his body.
More blood drops followed his gaze. He wasn't quite sure where those were coming from.
He must've made quite a sight – a bloodied warrior on a battlefield surrounded by litters of bodies lying dead at his feet.
He straightened, taking in one deep breath, before readying himself again. His grey eyes easily read the fear and terror in Wolff's soldiers' eyes. He didn't blame them – he, alone, had killed a little over a third of their ranks, and he was still standing tall. Never before had they faced someone like him – he wasn't even human in their eyes. Hell, he wasn't human in his own eyes.
Their terror of him had made them retreat back a bit, leaving a wide girth between them and him, allowing Jim a brief second of respite.
Greenaway had disappeared from the parapet once Jim made it halfway closer to the castle entrance, no doubt running away with his tail between his legs. It wouldn't matter that he fled in the long run. Jim would hunt him down. It would be easy.
No, the true difficulty was still there. Wolff had never wavered, standing high above the battle, his eyes always on Jim, just as Jim never lost track of him. But even with the distance, Wolff could see that Jim was nearing his limit, and he smirked.
"Getting tired there, Kirk?" he taunted loudly. "You're on your last legs, aren't you?"
Jim just cocked his head. "Why don't you come down here and find out if I am, Wolff?"
He heard two rapid beeps coming from the comm that he still had on his hip. Subtly, he reached down and tapped it twice with his left hand, sending back a signal.
"You can't win, Kirk," Wolff said.
"I told you before, Wolff," Jim breathed, straightening up a bit more with a wicked, smug grin spreading across his face. "I was never trying to win."
Wolff immediately frowned at the sight of confidence that had suddenly started to ooze out of Jim's every pore. "What do you mean, Kirk? Explain!"
Jim threw his back and started laughing manically, ignoring the sudden shooting of pain that lanced through his side. "You idiot. You were so focused on me that you didn't even realize what was right beneath your nose. I told you not to underestimate me or my crew, Wolff." His grey eyes shined with haughtiness. "I told you I wasn't the queen in this chess game, but you wouldn't listen. And you're going to lose because of that."
Dread swam in Wolff's insides and the world seemed to collapse around him. Instantly, Wolff realized that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake. He had truly underestimated James T. Kirk. "What is this? What do you have planned, Kirk?!"
"I didn't come to Zenobia alone, Wolff," Jim said calmly, "I was never alone." Lights started swirling beside him and behind him. Figures began to form, and all Jim did was grin even broader. "And I will never be."
In seconds, lines of fifty or so men dressed in Starfleet red appeared besides and behind Jim. Each held phasers at the ready in their hands with matching determined and grim expressions on their faces.
No one showed fear at the sight of the army that stood before all of them. No one flinched at the sight that beheld them: the scores of bodies lying on the ground with Jim standing ever so casually amidst all the chaos and blood around his feet. Splatters of crimson decorated Jim's torn shirt and pants and blood still dripped from his sword. He looked like he had come straight out of a horror film, but he wasn't the victim – he was the killer.
Normal human beings would have shrank away from Jim out of sheer fear, but his crew had never been a part of the norm. And their loyalty to him was far stronger than anything else they might have felt standing on the battlefield.
There was no question in their minds. The moment they saw their Captain, they all instantly flanked him, spreading out into battle formation.
Jim registered Lieutenant Giotto stepping in line with him on his right-hand side. The meaning of Giotto's and his men's actions were not lost on Jim: as of this moment, no matter what, come hell or high water, they would be right by his side.
Jim couldn't have been more proud. It was checkmate for Wolff.
He could finally make Wolff and Greenaway pay for all that they had done. He thought of Thea's cold body left behind in that cave. And his grip on his sword tightened. His revenge was just within reach. He could almost taste it.
Giotto squared his shoulders, keeping his eyes locked onto Wolff's increasingly worried face. "What are your orders, sir?"
Jim's grey eyes steeled and he gritted his teeth. "Show no mercy. Bring them to their knees."
There was no hesitation. The thunderous cry of his crew reverberated throughout the clearing. "Sir, yes, sir!"
Jim's bared his teeth, snarling.
Wolff's empire was going to fall at his feet. He was going to make sure of it.
Ready.
Aim.
FIRE!
To be continued...
Sorry this update took forever! But since finals are right around the corner, I thought that I'd post this as a treat/incentive for the rest of the poor saps like me who have to spend the entire weekend studying their butts off.
This chapter was highly influenced by two songs: Monster and Ready, Aim, Fire by Imagine Dragons. I usually don't put in song lyrics or things like that in my stories, but I thought they were very fitting to this chapter. When I heard the song "Monster", it basically just screamed "Jim" to me. And "Ready, Aim, Fire"? It was perfect for Jim completely snapping and going off into a battle rage.
The next chapter will be a bit slower - hopefully, I'll get a chance to write more over the summer. And yeah, I know I still haven't gotten to the reason why I was horrible to Thea, but that will be coming. We're about to get into the last leg of this story! I hope you all stick around for it. :)
Good luck to all those who have finals coming up soon! And as always, please review!
Cheers,
Yuna