AN: My muse is dying here, guys. Help her out with some reviews! They perk her right up again :)

I'm very fond of this scene with Kirk and McCoy. This is my first time writing with the classic trek/reboot characters, and I was surprised by how much fun McCoy is to write. This chapter also marks the first appearance of a character from Andromeda. That's right—no Neelix! I was never a big fan of Neelix...

Captain's Log, Stardate 2259.56

We've traced the energy pulses from the array to the fifth planet in the system and believe they may have been used in some fashion to transport Chekov and Kati to the planet surface—

The door chimed. Kirk switched off the recorder and tapped his fingers irritably against the surface of his desk. "Come in."

McCoy stepped through the door, carrying a tray with a sandwich, a glass of milk, and a padd. "It occurred to me," he said, as he set the tray in front of Kirk—giving himself, Kirk noticed with some amusement, a good view of Kirk's computer screen—"that it's probably been a while since you had something to eat."

"Don't you usually leave deliveries to the yeoman?" Kirk asked, picking up the sandwich. Ham and swiss. Not his favorite, but he was too hungry to be choosy.

"Don't you usually record logs on the bridge?" McCoy countered. He sat in a chair without waiting for an invitation.

Kirk put the sandwich down untouched. "What's that got to do with anything?" he demanded.

"Only that if there was something in those logs you didn't want the crew to hear, there might still be something you wanted your doctor to hear."

Kirk picked up the sandwich again and took a big bite. "Well, there isn't," he mumbled.

McCoy watched him chew, and Kirk resisted the urge to squirm. "Okay," McCoy said finally. "Once you finish that sandwich, you should get some sleep. You won't be any use to us as tired as you are."

Kirk swallowed with difficulty and said, "I'm fine, Bones."

"No, you're not, but I don't expect you to admit that." He nudged the padd toward Kirk. "This ought to put you to sleep. You asked me to do psych evals on the Vengenace crew: these are the preliminary results."

Kirk didn't bother to pick up the padd. "That was fast. How do they look?"

"Boring, mostly." When Kirk raised his eyebrows in doubt, McCoy shrugged. "Most of 'em weren't picked for their brains. Oh, they're smart enough—most of 'em got top marks at the Academy. But they've got no imagination, no initiative. They follow their commanding officer, they do what they're told. There's a few exceptions, of course, but I don't think Admiral Marcus wanted anyone around who might question the moral or legal legitimacy of their mission."

"How is the admiral?"

"No worse—and that's the good news. The brain damage is just too severe, Jim. There are few more tricks I can try, but I don't think he's ever going to wake up."

Kirk put the sandwich back down, his appetite suddenly gone. "Damn. Poor Carol."

McCoy cocked his head. "Not 'poor Marcus'?"

"I don't need psychoanalyzing, Bones," Kirk said. "He tried to kill a lot of innocent people—including you. I'm not happy about what happened to him, but I'm not shedding any tears, either."

"Hmph," McCoy said again. "Well, there's one eval on there you might find interesting. Check under 'H'."

Kirk turned on the screen and scrolled through the names, feeling sure what he would find. Between Hardwell, Lillian and Hernandez, Ricardo was Harrison, John.

Kirk looked up at McCoy. "You talked to him?"

Khan had consented with suspicious meekness to return to the brig, though not before making it clear he wanted to talk to Kirk about their arrangement. Kirk had said they would speak when he had the time, and then worked hard to make sue he didn't have the time. It hadn't occurred to him that he might need to keep other people from talking to Khan, as well.

"You wanted psych evals for the potential new additions to our crew," McCoy said, with an unconvincing show of innocence. "If you're going to keep inviting him on away missions..."

"I asked for psych evals for the crew of the Vengeance," Kirk said. "Which Khan is most decidedly not." He debated yelling at McCoy, then decided it wouldn't do any good. Reluctantly, he asked, "What do you think?"

"We-el," McCoy said slowly, "let's see..." He ticked off the points as he went. "He's a natural leader who's always excelled at whatever he set his mind or hand to. He's got a problem with authority and thinks rules were written for other people. He's no coward—you could even say he's reckless. He feels a strong sense of responsibility and a desire to right what he sees as injustices. He's extremely loyal." McCoy spread his hands in a gesture of bemusement. "Despite his genetically engineered superpowers, he does show respect for ordinary people, so long as they exhibit traits he finds admirable—especially loyalty, courage, and intelligence."

Kirk shifted in his seat. "When you put it like that, he sounds like a great person."

"When I put it like that," McCoy said bluntly, "he sounds like you."

It was a reality Kirk had been trying very hard to ignore for a while. "Last time I checked, I'm not genetically engineered," he began.

"No, but you're well above average in intelligence and physical fitness. As for the rest—"

"I'm not a murderer!"

"He doesn't see himself that way," McCoy said quietly. "He considers his actions to be those of wartime."

Kirk's voice rose to shout. "Then he's a psychopath! Bones, what are you trying to say? That I'm the same? That he was right to murder Admiral Pike and all those others?"

"You know damn well that's not what I'm saying—or you would, anyway, if you weren't so close you can't see straight."

"Close to what?" Kirk demanded.

"Everything!" McCoy waved his hands. "Pike, Marcus, Khan—take your pick. You're too emotionally involved to think clearly about Khan and what he has and hasn't done."

"Now you sound like Spock."

"There's no call to be insulting," McCoy said.

Despite himself, Kirk smiled a little. Some of the tension left the room.

"So what should I do about him, then?" Kirk asked eventually. "Khan, I mean."

McCoy shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. The safest thing would be to lock him up and throw away the key. There are some not-so-nice traits down there in the psych eval, too."

"Can I trust him?"

"To do what?" McCoy countered. "Look after his own interests?" When Kirk gave him a pointed look, he shrugged again. "For now, yes. He's most concerned about keeping his people safe, and as long as we don't do anything to threaten them he'll play nice. But he'll be planning two moves ahead, for when we get back to Earth."

"When, not if. You think we'll make it back, then?"

"I think you'll get us back. And I'm not the only one who thinks that."

Kirk smiled weakly, both warmed and overwhelmed by the trust and confidence his friends and crew had in him. Somehow, someway, he would have to find a way to get them home. No matter what.

"Eat your sandwich," McCoy said, standing. "And then get some sleep."

"Yes, sir!" Kirk said.

"Smart ass," McCoy said, and left.

Kirk ate his sandwich, and was debating the relative merits of a nap versus a strong cup of coffee when the call came from the Bridge.

"Captain, we've encountered a debris field. Our sensors detect a small vessel with a two humanoid life-forms on board."

"I'll be right out." Kirk drained the last of his milk, swiped his sleeve across his lip to erase any milk mustache—noting as he did that if he didn't shave soon he would start growing a real mustache—and hurried down the short corridor connecting his office to the Bridge.

Spock rose from the center chair and stepped to the right as Kirk came down the step to the left—a well-rehearsed dance they had performed many times—but Kirk remained standing, his eyes on the viewscreen. The debris field filled the screen: hundreds of shattered pieces of starships, all slowly spinning as their momentum moved them through frictionless, 0-G space. Alone among all the randomly moving fragments, a single small ship remained motionless.

"Hail them," Kirk said.

Uhura's fingers moved across her board. "I've got a visual, Captain."

"Put it onscreen."

The image changed suddenly to show a dim, cramped room, which Kirk presumed was the bridge. He could make out a chair and what might be a control station on an upper level. A ladder and a single door appeared to lead to the rest of the ship. There was no one in sight.

Kirk glanced over his shoulder to see what Spock thought, but the Vulcan only raised one eyebrow enigmatically. Apparently he was just as puzzled as Kirk.

Through the comm feed, he heard the sound of boots on metal decking, and something appeared at the top of the ladder. Kirk stared, trying to figure out what kind of bizarre alien it might be, and finally realized it was merely a humanoid descending the ladder head-first, like a cat climbing down a tree.

The figure flipped itself right-way-up and jumped the railing separating the upper and lower levels, landing neatly beside the chair. It leaned forward and smiled nervously into the vid receiver. Without thinking, Kirk smiled back. "It" was a beautiful young woman—or female-analogue, at any rate—with lavender skin and crown of curling white-gold hair that did not quite hide the elegantly pointed tips of her ears. Kirk caught a glimpse of a supple tail flick past her shoulder.

She said something that to Kirk's ears was nothing but a string of nonsense. Her voice was light and sweet; her expression was, he thought, nervous.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," he said. He glanced at Uhura. "Lieutenant?"

"I'm working on it, sir," she said, already bent over her console. "The Universal Translator needs a certain amount of material to work with. Just… keep her talking."

The woman spoke again. It still sounded like nonsense, but a different kind of nonsense. "No, no," Kirk said. "Stick with one language, it'll go faster." He smiled in a way he hoped she would interpret as friendly—smiles could be a little risky with some aliens. "We'll have this straightened out in a minute."

She switched back to the first language she had used. "Got it," Uhura said, and in mid-sentence the woman's words became intelligble.

"—don't have anything worth stealing, so if you're looking for trouble you should just keep going."

"Believe me, we're not looking for trouble," Kirk said. "Unfortunately, trouble has recently found us."

"Oh, you can understand me now," the alien woman said. "I'm so sorry to hear you're in trouble." She sounded genuinely distressed.

Kirk smiled again. He couldn't help it; she was so—there was no other way to describe her—cute. "Thank you for your concern…"

"Trance. My name is Trance. And since you're not interested in causing trouble, I'm delighted to meet you…"

"Captain James Kirk, of the Federation starship Enterprise."

Her eyes widened a little. "How impressive! I have no idea what that means, but it sounds really important."

Suspecting he was being mocked, Kirk studied her closely, but her eyes remained steady and her expression innocent. Too innocent? It was impossible to tell; he didn't know her well enough to read her alien body language. He decided it didn't matter. After pleading with Marcus and bargaining with Khan, his pride was already in tatters.

"Do you know this area of space well, Ms. Trance?" he asked.

"Just Trance," she corrected. "I know it well enough. Why, is there some way I can help you?"

"Do you know anything about the array that's sending energy pulses to the fifth planet?"

"I know enough to stay away," she said, and then— "Oh, you're another one. Let me guess, you were whisked away from somewhere else in the galaxy and brought here against your will."

Out of sight of the vid pickup, Sulu exchanged a look with Chekov's beta-shift replacement, Ensign Tellammea. "I take it you've heard this story before," Kirk said.

"Unfortunately. The Caretaker has been bringing ships here for months, now."

"The Caretaker?"

"That's what the Ocampa call him. They live on the fifth planet." Trance hesitated. "Did he kidnap someone from your crew?"

"As a matter of fact, he did." Clearly this, too, was a story she had heard before. "Do you know where he might have taken them?"

She shrugged. "Only that they're brought to the Ocampa."

Kirk paced closer to the vid pickup, trying to convey the urgency he felt, but not the desperation. "Trance, we would appreciate any help you can give us in finding these Ocampa."

Her eyes slid away. "I… I don't know. I'd love to help, I really would, but we're a little busy at the moment."

It was the first time she had indicated there was another person aboard her ship. Kirk wondered if the previous omission had been merely an oversight, or deliberate. He was beginning to doubt she was quite as innocent as she seemed.

"We would, of course, compensate you for your trouble," Kirk offered.

"Oh, there's very little you could offer us," she said. "Unless…"

Kirk's heart sank. He could already hear Spock, reminding him of the Prime Directive. "Yes?"

"…unless you had… water?"

Water? He felt almost giddy with relief. Water he could give her. "If you help us find our missing crewmembers, you can have all the water you want."

She blinked. "I—well, that sounds very reasonable. Just give me a moment to talk to my friend."

"Of course."

Trance's image vanished suddenly, replaced with a view of her ship and the surrounding debris field. Kirk turned to Spock. "Thoughts?"

"A local guide could prove most useful, Captain," Spock said. "However, we must exercise caution when dealing with these people. We are unfamiliar with the species of this region of space and could inadvertently violate the Prime Directive."

Kirk just managed not to roll his eyes. On the other side of the Bridge, Uhura turned away from her station. "Following the rules is not more important than saving a life," she said sharply.

"On the contrary, Lieutenant: Starfleet places the Prime Directive above all other imperatives."

"Starfleet isn't here," Uhura said. "We are."

"But we are Starfleet," Spock countered. "Therefore, Starfleet is here, as well."

A light went off at Uhura's station before she could respond. "The alien vessel is hailing us, captain."

"Put her onscreen."

Trance reappeared, smiling again. "The Reverend and I are ready when you are, captain."

"Good. We'll beam the two of you aboard and tow your ship into our shuttle bay."

" 'Beam'?" she echoed.

"We have a technology that can transport you instantly from your ship to ours," he explained, wondering. No transporters, and no replicators, or else they wouldn't need to trade for water. Perhaps Spock was right to recommend caution. "It's completely harmless."

"If you say so," she said doubtfully. She glanced around, as though expecting to see the transporter materialize aboard her ship. "Beam away."