Checkup

Leonard finished the knitting of a broken wrist with his mind largely on other matters. Luckily the procedure wasn't a complicated one, or particularly dangerous, because when he sent the thankful ensign on his way he could barely remember having performed it. The entire business on Vergon had him up in arms, and as usual a verbal sparring match with Spock had done nothing but rile him up. Also not unusual, the Vulcan wasn't taking anything seriously enough, and with a growl of impatience he imagined he was doing just the opposite.

Jim would no doubt be worrying just enough, but that was his job, and damn it, Leonard was a doctor. Nothing was happening, and there was nothing to do, which both added up to boredom and tension to deal with. He'd really rather not, if it was all the same. Obviously this place wasn't a pleasure cruise, but he preferred to avoid stress when at all possible. The best way to do that was with a friendly drink, and he knew exactly where to get one of those.

Unable to sit still any longer, grumpy because he had the attention of a five-year-old (and the patience,) Bones leaned around the wall of his office and found the tall blonde he needed shelving medicine.

"Nurse Chapel, I'm going out, up to the bridge, probably. Call if you need me."

"Of course Doctor," Christine dismissed with a wave of her hand, clucking quietly under her tongue as he stormed off. For a medical chief, he had a rather high blood-pressure… Not that his moods weren't completely justified and understandable. The restlessness wasn't solely his. Things were unnaturally still, and it wasn't boding well for her, either. Maybe it wasn't good to try to pull things down upon their heads, but she wished they would just get over with it already.

Leonard wasn't the only person who was holding their breath on this ship.

While in the corridor, Bones clicked one of the wall communicators, and after a short question was told Jim—the Captain—was in his quarters. Somewhat testily he snapped it off again, then took a turbo-lift to the next level, where important personnel were assigned their living arrangements.

There was almost nothing Jim could have been doing that he wouldn't put down to talk to a member of his crew if he was needed. When he discovered it was the doctor, he let the doors slide open, and a wry smile that was nonetheless welcoming sprang to his lips.

"You and Spock aren't going at it again, are you? Because I've hung up my mediator hat for the night, you know." Stepping back Kirk gestured to the seat at his desk, and Bones let himself feel at home in the two-room suite, the same in layout as his own. As Captain's went, the ex-cowboy from Iowa was a pretty relaxed one, and his room reflected those tastes. It held personal objects, bits of who he was and his life, but it was also accommodating for others. More than being Captain, more than being Jim, he made a good transition to being both at once. Ingrained one within the other so they were the same.

Sniffing delicately at the tumbler half-full of brandy on the desk, Leonard sent Jim an appreciative glance, one that conveyed the message perfectly.

"Glad to see you're finding your own way to deal with all this," Bones pointed out with a nod in that direction.

"Borrowing one of your favored methods, Doc," Kirk chuckled, already heading for the cupboard to grab another glass and the bottle. "Want one?"

"Well, I'd hate to impose, but it would be remiss to let you drink alone. As your doctor—"

"You're also my wing-man?" Jim finished, shooting a grin with his use of the old-fashioned clubbing term. Nothing appealed to him as much as history and antiques, preferably together, and words were no exception. The other man shrugged, not really getting the comment, but it didn't deter their personal comfort in one another's company. That was just Jim, after all, and if it was anything important he would considerately translate.

Once drinks had been distributed and refreshed all-around, and Leonard was already feeling warm enough to swirl his snifter, Jim wound the conversation to a topic which he found himself wanting to discuss, and had for some time.

"So what did you think of our local anthropologist?" he posed, and watched with easy contentment as his friend aligned his personal opinions.

"You'd like her. You already do," he acknowledged with a nod and a dip of his glass. It wasn't a question. "She's just as strong and… feisty, I suppose, in person. Funny, too, and she must be a pretty good leader—her assistants were all crazy about her. A lot like you." Which part of the comment was meant for comparison remained ambiguous, but Bones let it lay and held up the tumbler to watch the amber liquid inside as it reflected light off the ice in the glass. Like her eyes, he remembered before taking a slow sip. Still, even as she was deceptively fragile and more than just lovely in passing, Bones had gotten quite a few impressions from their short contact—the most over-lying of which had been her blatant emotional unavailability.

Moira had sized him up quickly, which was a surprise from a scientist who didn't usually have dealings in living people, so the trait itself fathered a wellspring of other questions. Once finding him harmless, though, she had allowed herself to fall into an easy rhythm of banter that was friendly but cool. It clearly stated disinterest, but not, he thought with (he hoped) no input from his ego, because of disinterest in him personally, or even men in general.

She was an impenetrable fortress who looked like a princess they were supposed to protect. Who exactly held the key, he thought with vague interest, was a mystery.

Yet Jim was a friend, and the mood was too cheery to bog down with all of those intricate notes.

"To women," he said aloud, raising his mostly-empty drink in toast, "and all the riddles that make them what they are."

"Amen," agreed Kirk, and belted back the rest of his own. On cue his computer lit up with a summons, and before Leonard had the time to curse mildly Jim was already sighing with his duty, setting aside the glass to pull on the necessary vision of command. He took off the mantel of the man, and became in essence entirely captain.

"Kirk here."

"Captain," came Spock's tempered voice, deep as usual to fit his placid image that quickly came on-screen.

"Ah, Spock! Come have a drink with us. Oh, that's right, Vulcan's don't drink. No worries—you wouldn't recognize a drunk if it bit you." Bones waved at the screen, obviously tipsy, and except for a casual sideways glance Spock mostly ignored him. Kirk nudged the doctor aside, not wanting to get in the middle when other things were obviously more pressing.

"Sorry, Spock, ignore him."

"I often endeavor to do so."

"What's the news?" Although his disciplined Vulcan exterior gave nothing away to a casual observer, even over the computer Kirk could still pick up the minute sharpening of features, the way his shoulders were stiffened ever-so-slightly, the darkening of his eyes. He communicated, quite seriously, with his eyes.

"As we suspected, Captain, orders have just come to bring a halt to Ms. Blackwood's research project. Regrettable, but as soon as possible."

"And?" Sharpening out of the haze of alcohol, Bones had made himself focus on the pointy-eared devil on the console, realizing that Jim had picked up something he had not. In a flash, he got the premonition of a long night, and with a sigh resigned himself to needing to rid himself of the effects of the brandy much earlier than he had hoped.

Yes, there was definitely more.

"The report gives high warnings of Klingon activity in the area. When this was sent out they were nearby—undoubtedly shielded, observing, which is why we could not detect them. It is my opinion that, by now, the Klingons could hardly be oblivious to our presence here."

Tensing up, Kirk immediately took on the air of command. Not that he hadn't been expecting news like that, but the idea that Klingons were waiting around instead of making the first move not only irked him, but it threw him off his normal game. Klingons were warriors, they weren't usually tactical. What could they possibly be thinking? Regardless, he needed to take command of his ship. Preparations needed to be made—and the first and foremost topic on his agenda was getting Moira and her team to the Enterprise, pronto.

"I'm on my way, Spock."

Spock was ruffled, and though he strove as usual not to let it show, he was not immune to the same inner uneasiness as the rest of the ship. This was what puzzled him, as much a question as an annoyance, because usually he could remain stalwart and aloof from such problems. What was the difference in this case? Of course he wished to preserve human life—the Captain hadn't exaggerated in his comment that their routine visits more often than not revealed disasters of one type or another. Not entirely satisfied with that explanation, however, he mulled on it further, his outer shell a statue of calm.

After receiving the assignment Spock had pulled up everything on Moira Blackwood the computer had recorded as routine, wanting to be completely informed. His scholarly respect went to her without reserve… there was no doubt that she was certainly the most accomplished researcher on his people, at least for one who was not Vulcan, and her knowledge didn't simply stop there. More than once she had been reportedly called in to conference to aid the Federation with Romulan matters, and Spock had no trouble accepting this. Rather, he would welcome it, since he conceded that she seemed to know more on his war-like brethren than even he, and he kept himself excellently up-to-date on any and all findings.

No, he could not find fault in her academics, and as far as he could recall he did not know her. Perhaps her voice over the speaker had sparked some sort of reaction, unfortunately, but that was inconclusive at best, and reasonably ignored. Pursuing the matter would ease his ill-fitting curiousity, but unless she was a threat, and that he really had no reason to believe, Moira Blackwood was just another scientist. Highly decorated, possessing of many laurels and accolades, but still of no immediate concern. It would be illogical to think otherwise, so he said nothing at all of the line of his thoughts as he allowed Jim to his rightful place at the con. Going back to his own station, Spock set himself to practicing his Vulcan discipline to the fullest, and put the matter out of mind.

There wasn't the slightest doubt in him that what the planet's inhabitants needed right now was calm, rational logic. Reading the data the computer marked off on his screen, he relayed status and coordinates. He could provide that, if not his own answers.

After sleeping most of their planet's day Moira once again found herself prowling the facility at night, some sort of haunting specter that pushed paperwork and drank too much coffee. It had happened more than once, of course, but unlike all the other times Moira could take no comfort in the job she performed, or even her secret pleasure of having an entire planet to herself. Instead of feeling free, she simply felt… alone?

If it was silly, at least there was no one else to see it clearly on her unguarded face.

Drifting in thought for the billionth time she sighed, abandoning her desk in favor of performing another check around the complex. The movement would give her restless legs something to do, and with any luck let her over-active mind settle to the mundane and let her get something done.

Moira knew the buildings like the back of her hand—ha d overseen their construction and indeed had proved an integral part of making them what they were. In a very real way the entire project was hers; she had put forth the proposal, written the grant request, pulled together and interviewed the team. Really the only thing she hadn't done was discover the planet, but how hard was that? Now making something of that discovery… That meant much more in the giant scheme of things.

Oh, sure, she'd interned in several very prestigious projects, and had served under quite a few of the big names and experts of the field, both Vulcan and Terran alike. Ever since graduating from the academy with her degree, she'd been constantly working—she probably had enough joint vacation time for one solar year. But this was the first assignment with her stamp of approval, pieces of her at every level, at every stage. Her flesh, her blood, her sweat.

Mine.

And they wanted to take it away.

Stopping in the hall she found herself rubbing the heel of her hand to her heart, looking out one of the scenic windows at the starry sky beyond a ruined city. Feeling suddenly and incredibly cold she wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she'd stopped to throw her robe on over the blue silk pajamas. Out there were the remains of a culture, one that would provide them so many keys to both the past and the future. But was the project the only thing here she didn't want to lose?

Before she could trust herself to consider the answer, she heard the sound of a hailing coming from the control room. Paling and then grim, only too able to imagine who it could be, she tiredly trudged around the corner to accept.

"It's incredibly early—or late, depending—so what do you need, Captain?"

It didn't escape him that she sounded almost bone-weary, resigned. It was his job to notice, after all. But he could tell she was shoring herself up for whatever news he could dish out. In respect to that, he broke it without any banter or stalling.

"Doctor, I'm afraid the decision from Starfleet is in, and your project is halted until further notice." One beat, two.

"I guess I can't say I wasn't expecting it." Shoving a hand through her loose blonde hair Moira fought against the cold, hard slap of disappointment, but another thought hit her, more serious in the immediate future, and her voice became intensely wary. "Why did you call so early? That would have waited until morning—just that."

Smart woman he thought, only a tiny tug of appreciation escaping through his businesslike attitude. It became all the more imperative to get her—all of them—onto the ship, immediately. "We received late intelligence that Klingon Warbirds are swiftly returning to this area, and with their sophisticated cloaking devices may in fact already be here. We aren't taking chances, so you and your crew are required to beam aboard as soon as possible." He was sorely tempted to tack now onto the end, but held his tongue. She would get the message easily enough.

Freezing, Moira tried to think past the blood that had turned to ice pounding in her ear. Of course he had implied that the Klingons were near their space, had been there before, but that was when she hadn't known about it. Swallowing the dread and the instinctual fear, she held on to what was left—sheer back-boned determination.

"Of course, Captain, I understand. I'll go wake the others immediately. Here," fiddling with the computer, Moira sent the coordinates of their storage room to the Enterprise transporter. "That's almost everything we've uncovered during the entire run. Just do a wide-scan beam. We'll get the rest."

Preoccupied with how much needed done, she forgot to turn off the line, and on the ship Kirk could hear her mutter fading as she left the console. He would worry more about the library when he had the living people safe—they were top priority.

"Get Scotty to the transporter room; I have a feeling we'll need him on this. I want everyone else on alert—even if we encounter the Klingons, we have to attempt to avoid confrontation at all costs. While we're fighting the shields would have to go up, and I don't want those people stranded down there when the Klingons have shown that they have no qualms about blasting planets. Understood?" Nods all-around. "Good. I'll give her points for spine—I just hope she can manage to hurry, too."

Being a strictly self-disciplined person most of the time, Moira had no trouble calling on herself to do what had to be done. Personal thoughts and feelings could wait until the danger was over, or at least until the others were safe. Finding a wall intercom, Moira tapped into the loud-speakers and cleared her throat.

"Hey everyone, Moira here. There's trouble in space, and we're going into evacuation mode. Please prepare accordingly, and I'll be by everyone's rooms to make sure you're all up. Thanks, and don't panic." Yet, her mind added somewhat wickedly, but she blanked that out.

Luckily everyone lived in a closely-knit dorm wing, (except for her anyway,) so it wasn't hard to find them all. Light sleepers, Lena and Ryan stood in the hall, more worried than tired with sweatshirts thrown on over their night clothes. Eric's curls were tousled, nearly standing on-end, and he was yawning widely enough to crack his jaw, but he was also accounted for. Seeing her coming, all three of them immediately tensed for orders. She regretted that they were frightened, but maybe that would spur them to move faster. They could harness the fear, like she was, and make something useful out of it.

"We're beaming to the Enterprise as soon as possible. Grab anything important and get to the transporter room, stat. Don't worry about storage, I've already given Kirk the coordinates, so he should be able to get the artifacts without any trouble. Go as soon as you get there, all right? It's all set up."

"Now wait Moira," Ryan objected, reaching out to grab her shoulder. Struck by how much smaller she looked in pajamas with her hair down and her glasses off, he shook his head and loosened his grip. He was smart enough to infer the reasons for the evacuation, but that wasn't his concern at the moment. "What about you? We won't leave without you."

"Of course not!" Lena agreed, horrified at the very thought. Moira gently but assertively released herself from Ryan's well-meaning hand and stepped back, brushing interfering wisps of hair behind her ears impatiently.

"I'll be right along, but I have to get the stuff I was working on, not to mention the files in the safe. Don't worry, just go, we're wasting time."

Not too proud to escape before they could pin her down, Moira managed to flee and avoid further comment. She had things to do, and even if she could hear Eric's tired, belayed oath reverberating in the hall, she refused to be cowed. As long as they were safely out of the way, she could do what needed to be done without worrying.

Praying for time, Moira hurried in the opposite direction of rescue.

Klingons were a warrior species in every definition of the word. Their people praised honor, ruthlessness and strength above all else, and their obsession with rites and traditions rivaled even Vulcans. It wasn't the first time Kirk ever had to deal with one of their battle cruisers, but he never exactly reveled in the experience. Klingons were blood-thirsty, war-mongering, and their almost complete lack of fear was often unnerving in battle situations. They were best avoided, and certainly not opponents to be taken lightly when fighting was inevitable. In this case, however, fighting wasn't an option. It simply wasn't feasible, not if he wanted all of his people to make it out alive—and he did. Even in normal circumstances he would have found a way to wiggle and cajole his way out of direct combat, but what with Moira and her team on-planet, the odds were severely in favor of the enemy.

His one saving grace going in was that the Klingons, hopefully, would be too preoccupied with their battle-lust to figure out the real reason for their presence. This was part of the space often contested between the Federation and the Empire, and although it was in all technicality Federation property, nobody loved to stir the waters and see what came to the surface more than a Klingon. They would poke, prod, and wheedle until the tides were in their favor for a war.

Kirk wasn't there to give in to that desire today. His job was clear; clear, not simple. Get the scientists and get out. There were ambassadors and politicians and higher-ups to deal with the destruction of Federation planets. For the moment, he was concerned with the immediacy of human life.

Knowing his time was up at the beep from Uhura's board, Kirk nonetheless turned towards her. Moira had left her own communications open, so the choices were limited, and the Lieutenant's face was dark with confirming apprehension. He nodded, and she put the hailing onto the main viewing screen.

Because Kirk was in command, and in many situations expected to act as much diplomat as Captain, he had been trained to look for the distinguishing qualities in members of all species. Maybe it was something that came naturally and made him especially good at what he did, he wasn't sure. To his critical eye he could tell that he had never met this particular Klingon before, but perhaps to someone less practiced they never would have known the difference. Browned skin, weathered and almost indestructible-looking, a prominently ridged forehead, beaten features that proved this was a man who had gone into battle many times and come out on top. The dark eyes were shrewd and yet bright with the prospect of a battle, and Kirk did his best to appear authoritative while still calm and collected. It wouldn't do to give the Klingon any more of a rush than necessary. Instinctively he could feel the eyes of the bridge on him, but there was nothing any of them could do at the moment. Prepping for battle was out, so they were, essentially, sitting ducks.

"Federation vessel, I am Korus of the Klingon Empire. What business do you have here in our space?" Bemused at the blatant attempt at baiting, Kirk maneuvered himself easily around and kept his own voice neutral in response to the deep, booming announcement of Korus.

"I am Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. The Federation has dispatched us to determine what's been happening to the planets of this sector. Protocol, of course. Can we safely assume you are the ones responsible for their destruction?" With a carelessly boisterous laugh Korus waved off the comment with a large, armored hand.

"Oh Kirk, will the Federation never stop sending their dogs to do a warriors work? Yes, it was us. We were ordered to examine these planets for potential use to the Empire. Unfortunately none seemed… Adequate. We dispatched them."

Now it took Kirk a little more time to remain aloof. Dispatched? There had been fledgling ports and settlements on several of the planets, other research outposts like the one he was now circling. Nothing hit him harder like the useless and wasteful loss of life, and in the arms of his chair his knuckles whitened with the intensity of his grip. Of course he was much too skilled and trained to let it show on his face, so that his dark-blond eyebrows simply winged up in casual interest.

"Rather short-sighted of you, wasn't it? Surely the planets would have been more useful to you in the long run than warranting their… dispatch." Korus shrugged, the clank of his armor a grating sound on Kirk's strained nerves.

"We have far better planets, and in vast numbers. What need have we to litter out space with useless husks? Especially disobedient ones." He smiled disarmingly, a nasty smile that said he had probably enjoyed the task immensely. Under his flesh Kirk's blood flashed hot, but still his eyes were dispassionate. There would be retribution, oh yes, but not now. Not when he could save where others had been lost.

Taking stock, Kirk considered his options. Under normal circumstances he would have put on a display of force, bullied the Klingons from the premise in terms they could understand. Unfortunately he couldn't do that now, so the best that could be accomplished was buying Moira and her team time. No doubt Korus had returned intent on finishing up their spring cleaning, and already Kirk could see the subtle hints of suspicion rooted in the warrior's eyes. No, not nearly as slow or stupid as he might have hoped. No doubt even a blood-thirsty braggart like Korus could see that Kirk was in no hurry to call him on his crimes, and that there had to be a reason. Turning his head he caught Spock's eye, and with a very small nod his meaning leapt between them. More than once he wondered if Spock could in fact read his mind, seeing as that connection was one of the things that made them the best Captain-First Officer team in Starfleet. Regardless, he was glad for it once again as he saw the Vulcan go to stand behind Uhura, placing an urgent message to the base on Vergon.

"If that was the case, why did you leave this planet alone?" Outwardly indifferent, Kirk seemed to glance at a chart on the wall while he was signaling for contact from Spock. "Too dead to even pretend to be useful?"

"Why indeed," murmured Korus in a way that had Kirk's pulse scrabbling. It hadn't been a good move, but the chessboard was quickly running out of places for his king to flee. Spock wouldn't have been impressed. "Our casual scans showed it to be the least habitable and possessing no resources worth mentioning. We have, however, been watching you for some time, Captain Kirk. Why have you chosen to remain in orbit here?"

"We suspected you were probably cloaked," acknowledged the Captain with a nod, just the slightest indications of derision in his gaze. "It's quite predictable."

"Are you suggesting that Klingon's have need of hiding?" Korus thundered, his previously amused face replaced by injured pride and anger. Kirk had pushed the button on purpose, hoping to distract from Vergon. Unfortunately it wouldn't work for long. "We could have blasted your starship out of the sky days ago, Kirk. Remember that. Why have you not taken the same precautions? Even now we see upon scanning your ship that you are not armed, you are not even on alert. Do you not fear the Empire? Or, perhaps, are you trying to evade a fight?"

Hit it in one Kirk lamented in his mind. Damn.

"Perhaps we missed something in our initial scans. Something you want on this seemingly-worthless planet. I will discover what it is, and relieve you of your concern so that you may fight with me like a true warrior. I refuse to simply destroy you. I believe I'll make you work for it first."

"Why would you waste time and energy blasting a planet that's of no use to you?"

"Seeing you squirm is enough, Kirk. More than enough. Your concern alone makes this planet of much interest to me. Bij'Kah! Scan the planet again, this time a full scan. We will see what we see. And after I destroy this planet, I will destroy your ship. Jegh!" His menacing face suddenly blinked off the viewer, and Kirk was left with an almost dizzying sight of space again. The Klingon warbird was clearly visible now, and it looked as friendly as a cobra as it too orbited the harmless, defenseless planet below. Kirk rounded in his chair.

"Uhura…"

"They've cut all transmissions, Captain. I tried to get them back, but they're refusing to take our hails. Should I issue a red alert?"

"No," he managed, standing because he could no longer force himself to sit. "No, we can't do that. What's the status, Spock? Did you get that message down there? They have to be here by now."

"Unfortunately no, Captain. I was able to contact one of Dr. Blackwood's team, a Ms. Bennet, who assured me that they were all evacuating into the transporter room. I relayed our situation up here, and after some frantic whispering they agreed to beam over quickly. I took it that Moira was not among the others."

Banging the railing that ran around the middle of the bridge Kirk cursed vehemently. Nothing fancy, and it didn't really make him feel any better, but when he looked back up he knew Spock wouldn't judge him too harshly.

"What could that woman possibly be doing down there? Go down to the transporter room, Mr. Spock. I need to stay here in case Korus deigns to speak to us again before he tries to knock us out of the sky. Keep communications open at all times."

"Yes Captain."

Body humming with adrenaline that had no place to go, Kirk slid himself back into his seat and jabbed a finger at Uhura.

"Put me through, damn it. I need to know what's going on, right now."

((Reviews are always appreciated, thank you for the people who reviewed on Chapter 1! Been busy here, but I use this story as a sort of release from everything else, so

although it may not be updated with any sort of regularity, be assured I won't forget it. At the very least I have the entire next chapter planned out, and probably most of

Chapter 4 as well. Fun times are ahead on the Enterprise-- or, well, tumultuous ones, anyway! Thanks again, Loserx0rz.