AN: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and a happy December 25th to everyone else! Here's a chapter to read between eating pie and arguing with your relatives about politics...
As always, thanks for the reviews! I've seen some interest in Kirk/Marcus, and I do have tentative plans to head in that direction eventually (if only because I love the idea of dumping fatherhood on Kirk's lap!), but it could be a while. I think both characters have a good bit of development to go through before they get to that point.
The briefing room was depressingly empty. Kirk looked around, counting the faces present and the faces missing. Most of the senior staff had made it: Spock, head of Sciences; McCoy, chief medical officer; Scotty, chief of Engineering; Uhura, head of Communications; Sulu, Chief Helmsman. But Lieutenant Mendoza occupied the Chief of Security's chair—Matlock had died in the impact—and Ensign Tellammea took Chekov's place as Chief Navigator. Many of the assistant heads, who would normally have joined a full briefing, were absent, attending to repairs.
Or dead, Kirk thought grimly. The casualty report had been long, too long. Kirk had spent a long time reading the names, matching them with faces when he could. A small, cowardly part of him was grateful they were in the Delta Quadrant, because it meant for now, at least, he didn't have to worry about writing the letters. I regret to inform you...
But it also meant there would be no crew replacements coming from Starfleet, no new personnel to fill the many vacant positions. All non-essential posts were unmanned, and many crewmembers from Science and Security were being pressed into positions for which they were untrained. The Enterprise could barely function on so bare a skeleton crew.
There were a few new faces, though. Kirk let his gaze drift over the two strangers they had picked up, trying to be casual about it, trying not to stare. Kirk was accustomed to aliens, but these two were striking—Trance for her beauty, Behemial—or rather, Rev Bem—for his ugliness. They made an odd pair. Commander Sh'athylnik was also an unfamiliar, though less exotic face. She somehow gave the impression of being aloof from the other officers, despite sitting close between Spock and Uhura. She, too, scanned the room with apparent idleness. Their eyes met and Kirk offered her a faint smile. She didn't return it. Carol Marcus did return his smile, though weakly. She was pale and there were dark circles under eyes. Kirk wondered when she had last slept.
He had cautiously suggested Spock make her his assistant head, not expecting the idea to go over well. But Spock only said, "I was considering the idea myself, Captain."
"You were?" Kirk had said, surprised.
"She may have falsified her transfer documents, but her credentials are both genuine and excellent. Considering her experience and rank, it would be illogical not to offer her the position in light of the unfortunate losses of Lieutenants Tran and Ibekwe."
"I just... thought you two didn't get along."
Wearing his most inscrutable expression, Spock said, "What gave you that impression?"
Kirk had let the matter drop.
As the last stragglers took their seats, he sat forward, drawing the room's attention. "Ladies, gentlemen, and others, we just entered orbit around the system's fifth planet. We believe our missing people are on the planet—somewhere. Mr. Spock?"
Spock brought up a display of the planet on the room's large viewscreen. The realtime image changed almost imperceptibly as the planet turned slowly beneath them: a stark, barren world of orange and ocher. Kirk had seen arid worlds before, but this one was somehow different. After a moment he realized: there were no clouds.
"Geologic scans indicate this was once a Class M planet," Spock said. "However, there is no longer any liquid water anywhere on the planet, rendering it uninhabitable."
"How could an entire planet's water just disappear?" Uhura wondered.
"An excellent question, to which I am afraid I have no answer."
"There is precious little water in this region of space," Rev Bem said, in his rough voice. "There are old stories of a great disaster that stripped the water from dozens of worlds, leaving them lifeless and barren."
"Do these old stories say what kind of disaster it was?" Kirk asked.
Rev Bem spread his clawed hands. "A different disaster for each story—and there are many stories. Some say a mysterious alien species did it, using advanced technology. Others say the Vedrans took the water with them when they left, to punish the planets' inhabitants for not siding with Tarn Vedra during the Fall. And some say it was ancient beings with unknowable powers—gods, if you will."
Sh'athylnik made an impatient noise. "We don't have time for children's stories," she said.
"Hold on, now," McCoy said. "There can be truth in old stories, as unlikely as they may sound. And something happened to all that water."
"If there's no water," Kirk interrupted, before either of them could start a real argument, "How are there people?"
"They trade for it," Rev Bem said. "Or… steal it."
Kirk and Spock exchanged glances. "I take it the locals aren't a peaceable lot," Kirk said.
It was Trance and Rev Bem's turn to share a look. "Not really," Trance admitted. "In fact, they're pretty unfriendly."
"They'll find we can be pretty unfriendly, too," Sulu muttered.
"The away team will go armed," Kirk agreed. He tried not to think about Kati and Chekov trapped with these people. "Where do we find these unfriendly locals?"
"On the southern continent—that one, there—there's a range of extinct volcanoes," Trance said. "Follow the foothills north to a dry riverbed. There's an encampment there."
"You think our people will be in this encampment?"
"Well—no. Not really." She shrugged. "But it's a start."
They spent a few more minutes working out the details of the away team before Kirk dismissed them. As people began filing out the briefing room, he caught Marcus's elbow and drew her aside.
"How are you holding up?"
She gave him a thin, brittle smile. "I'm fine, Captain. Thank you for your concern."
"Doctor McCoy told me about your father's condition."
The smile stayed on her face, frozen and fragile. "He did everything he could. There's a medical center on Luna that specializes in neurosurgery. Doctor McCoy thinks they might have more success."
There was no point in mentioning that Luna was over 70 thousand light-years away. "I'm glad to hear that," he said. "In the meantime... make sure you get some sleep."
"Yes, sir."
He watched her walk away, her heavy steps so different from her usual springy stride. He wondered when she had last slept. He wondered when he had last slept. He wondered when either of them would have a chance to sleep again.
Once again Kirk found himself in the brig, facing Khan through a transparent barrier. Inside his secure glass box, Khan looked no more rested than Kirk. The augment stood still, hands loose at his side, face composed, failing to look calm. It was becoming easier to read him, a fact that both reassured and alarmed Kirk.
"Same terms," Kirk said.
"No," Khan said. "I, too, want guarantees."
It was a kind of stalemate, Kirk reflected grimly. Each man held so much power over the other. As long as Khan remained imprisoned and his crew asleep in the Enterprise's hold, Kirk held all the cards. Outside the brig, Khan's superhuman strength made him nearly uncontrollable, unless Kirk stooped to the depth of blackmail to which Marcus had fallen.
And if I go down to Sickbay, I can see for myself where that got him.
He threw Khan's own words back at him. "What kind of guarantees would you like?"
"I want my people released," Khan said.
Kirk bit back his first response, and his second. "Why should I do that?" he finally asked. "Why should I risk turning seventy-two homicidal augments loose on my ship when I can just leave you locked up in here?"
"Because it's the right thing to do."
Pain blossomed beneath Kirk's sternum. He couldn't tell which emotion caused it—fury, grief, disbelief? They all roiled within his chest. He moved forward, until his breath misted the glass between them and he could stare into Khan's dark eyes.
"Who are you," he said, marveling at how steady his voice sounded, "to speak of doing the right thing? Were you doing the right thing when you killed dozens of innocent people at the Kelvin Archive? Was murdering Admiral Pike the right thing to do?"
It was Khan who blinked first, but he did not look away. "Does the unrighteousness of my actions justify the unrighteousness of your own?" he demanded. "My people, too, are innocent."
"Marcus said they were criminals."
Fury passed swiftly over Khan's face and was gone: a brief echo of Kirk's own emotions. "Marcus lied."
Kirk realized he was clenching his fists; his nails dug painfully into his palms. Khan was right, and Kirk hated him for it, hated him for somehow having the moral high ground, for backing him into a corner. He had no evidence those people had committed any crime except the word Admiral Marcus—a man Kirk was inclined to neither believe nor trust.
There were a dozen reasons not to do it—it was too dangerous for his ship, his crew; Starfleet should be the one to make the call; waking them could well end his career, supposing he still had one after everything that had happened—but he knew they were nothing but excuses. If it had been anyone but Khan, he wouldn't have hesitated.
"I can't revive them," he said. "Not now. I don't have the people or resources to spare. They'll have to wait until we get back to the Alpha Quadrant."
Khan's eyes narrowed. "Marcus also said he would revive my people—eventually."
"I'm not Admiral Marcus."
"No," Khan said thoughtfully. "You're not."
They studied each other through the glass. Kirk forced his hands to relax.
"I want your word," Khan said finally, "That you will release my people as soon as you are able."
"You would accept my word, after Marcus lied to you?"
"As you say, you are not Marcus."
Kirk hesitated. Those cryotubes were the only leverage he had. But did he really have a choice? Marcus wouldn't have agreed. No, Marcus would have agreed, and lied. But Marcus had sent Kirk to execute a man without a trial, and then tried to destroy the Enterprise. And Kirk was not Marcus. He would not, could not, be Marcus.
"You have my word."