oOo

McCoy stepped into his cabin and swore at the sight of Lt. Uhura sprawled comfortably across his bed. He swore even more vehemently when Kirk strolled out of his bathroom and plopped down next to her. Grinning. "What the hell are you doing here?" McCoy growled, hastily moving into his quarters enough to allow the doors to hiss shut behind him. He fumbled for the lock, keying in the code with shaking fingers. Everyone knew Kirk had vanished from the Brig, leaving at least two dead security guards behind him. Not to mention Sulu; he'd taken the time to thrust a dagger through the over-ambitious helmsman's heart as well. McCoy assumed he'd heard the same gossip about Sulu's aborted takeover attempt that he himself had heard bandied about Sickbay.

Of course, gossip also had Kirk fleeing the ship altogether, gossip that had appeared to be substantiated when one of the shuttles made an unauthorized departure in the minutes before the bodies had been found. McCoy wasn't exactly pleased to see this theory proven wrong.

While McCoy fought to control his panicky thoughts, Kirk threw an arm around Uhura's shoulder. She snuggled closer, murmuring something inaudible in his ear. He nodded, his eyes never leaving McCoy. "Nyota tells me you fixed things for her, helped her save my child from Spock. That you did it to help me."

McCoy was sweating, but he nodded, moving shakily to stand by his desk. He glanced at the chair, sitting only when Kirk grunted assent. "Yeah, she had me fix the DNA scans." He allowed his gaze to drift to Uhura, then focused his attention on Kirk. "She knew you'd find a way to get out of this." His voice held grudging admiration.

"It was her idea to send out the shuttle," Kirk agreed, generously acknowledging Uhura's contribution. "It was my idea to blow it up."

McCoy stared at them, first Kirk, then Uhura. "You--blew it up?" He hadn't heard that, but then, he'd been busy with the autopsies Spock ordered on the three men Kirk had killed. Not that it took a great deal of imagination to identify two broken necks and a stab wound to the heart, but DNA had at least confirmed Kirk's role in the deaths.

"Actually, an over-zealous helmsman did, two seconds before Spock vaporized him for jumping the gun," Uhura said. She laid her head on Kirk's chest. "But the Captain knew he'd react that way. So now Spock thinks we're dead. And it needs to stay that way until we can actually get off this ship."

"That's where you come in," Kirk interjected, and McCoy found himself astonished; not only had he shared credit for a scheme with someone--with Uhura--he seemed to have actually formed a working partnership with her. Would wonders never cease...

"Wait a minute, you want me to help you? Are you insane?" The meaning of Kirk's words finally made its way past McCoy's off-balance thoughts. "If Spock finds out, I'm a dead man!"

"And if you turn us down or betray us, you're still a dead man," Uhura said coldly. "If we're caught or you give us up, all it will take is one word from me that you deliberately falsified medical information." She offered a chilling smile. "Spock will check it out himself, you know he will. And if we're executed, you will be, too. As an accomplice." She spoke the last words with relish.

McCoy reached with shaking hands for the bottle of Romulan ale sitting on his desk. He poured a healthy shot, downed it, then poured another. Before he could raise the glass to his lips a second time, Kirk reached out and took it from him. McCoy watched in silence as Kirk drank it, then held it out so McCoy could pour a third shot. This one Kirk passed to Uhura, who took a dainty sip before handing it back to him. "Not too much for me, darling," she murmured. "It's not good for the baby."

"Wh-what do you need me to do?" McCoy hated the nervous stutter that marred his voice, the sweat trickling down the sides of his face, the dampness of his palms, the racing of his heart, but there was nothing he could do about it. Just as there appeared to be nothing he could do to extricate himself from the precarious situation in which he currently found himself. Trapped between Spock's implacable sense of duty and Kirk's equally implacable thirst for power.

Kirk leaned back against the headboard of the narrow bunk. "For now, just listen..."

And when he finished, McCoy was white as death. This was worse than he'd imagined.