Day 9 - Onboard the Cardassian Patrol Ship - 2.1 parsecs away from Cardassia Prime
Shit happens.
James T Kirk, man of (self-proclaimed) resource and conviction, finds more wisdom in these two words than the whole of Surak's teachings (read: ramblings) combined, and sometimes, even Spock has to agree.
"What do we do now?" Kirk whispers, as they are led down the corridor of the Cardassian patrol ship.
Spock gives him a look. "I admit I did not plan for this eventuality," he says.
"Right," Kirk says, nodding. "So what do we do now, Captain?"
Spock stops briefly in his tracks, which prompts the security guard to shout at them in a language neither of them understands. "Silence is always a good option," Spock murmurs, once they start moving again.
Beside him, Kirk makes a point of laughing silently towards the ceiling.
The Cardassian Lieutenant, by the name of Bretav, finds the situation considerably less amusing. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he barks, circling Kirk like a predator circling prey.
"Eh," Kirk says. "Depends? Do you read The Interstellar Scoop?"
"Please refrain from getting us executed before the trial," Spock says exasperatedly, as Bretav recoils in disgust.
"Gossip," he spits out in contempt. "Journalists. You are not welcome on Cardassia."
"We are not journalists," Spock tells him. "We also have no plans on Cardassian space. We are headed for Beltane XII."
"On an Orion ship?" Bretav says suspiciously. "Most unorthodox. I do not believe you. You will be tried at court!"
Spock says nothing.
"You will be assigned a public defender," Bretav continues, and flips through his PADD quickly. "Aha. Zokukt! That's right. Our best public defender in the history of Cardassia."
"Um, that's very kind of you?" Kirk ventures.
Bretav snaps the PADD shut. "Zokukt has never failed to convince the accused of their rightful charged crime," he says. "Justice will be served!"
Kirk stares at him. "You and I have very different definitions of justice," he says.
Bretav merely cackles. "Federation journalists," he says. "Always think they are so funny. Our justice will serve you right, mark my words."
"Right," Kirk says, dubiously. "Just out of interest — what is the appropriate sentence for trespassing on Cardassia?"
"Three months on a mining colony," Bretav says, already beckoning for a security guard. "Take them to their cells!"
"And where exactly is this mining colony?" Kirk asks over his shoulder. "Seriously, like, is it close to Beltane XII?"
The guards shove them unceremoniously into a dark, hot and humid room, and Kirk finally quiets down when he realises the guard outside their door does not speak Standard, and is not equipped with an universal translator.
"Great," Kirk says, slumping down against the wall. "I think I saw a porno that began in a room like this."
"You do not seem particularly affected by our capture," Spock comments.
Kirk snorts. "Neither are you," he says. "They haven't even searched us or anything. Pretty arrogant bunch, aren't they?"
"The Lieutenant does not appear to know who we are," Spock says. "His ignorance works in our favour."
"Maybe he's only seen that god-awful picture at Rigel," Kirk says, looking hopeful.
"Cardassians have eidetic memories," Spock tells him. "If he has seen a picture of either of us, it is unlikely he will forget."
"Then I am glad he hasn't seen that picture on Rigel," Kirk says. "Man. You really know how to cheer a guy up."
"The Cardassians take pride in their justice system," Spock continues. "They do not execute prisoners at random."
Kirk peers at him sideways. "Is that supposed to be cheering me up?"
"Affirmative," Spock says.
Kirk grins wide and shakes his head. "It's not working," he says.
Spock gives him the eyebrow.
They fall into companionable silence for a few minutes, and Kirk shuffles himself against the wall.
"What brief does Starfleet provide for information on Cardassia?" Spock asks after a while.
"Not much," Kirk says, heaving a long breath. "Military dictatorship, neither friend nor enemy, ruthless as fuck. Oh and, an extra four pages in the classified database that basically says 'Don't piss one off, and if you do, don't argue with their judiciary process'."
"Yet you did not know that their judiciary process is unbalanced," Spock remarks. "There is, as they say, no such thing as a fair trial in Cardassia."
"I am so gonna hack into that database and rewrite that entry in red, angry letters," Kirk vows, pulling at his collar viciously.
"Are you well?" Spock enquires.
"It's too hot for me in here," Kirk says, grimacing. "And sticky. Ew. It's like a poorly lit sauna."
"Cardassians prefer their environment dark, hot and humid," Spock replies. "The condition of this cell does appear too uncomfortable for humans."
"And you?" Kirk asks, "Probably just the right kind of toasty in here, right?"
"Vulcan was a desert planet," Spock replies.
"I bet you can control your sweat glands," Kirk says morosely.
"I will attempt meditation," Spock says. "Perhaps you should consider it too."
"I think I'd rather eat Klingon Rokeg blood pie," Kirk says pleasantly.
Spock inclines his head. "As you wish," he says, and closes his eyes.
Spock comes out of his light meditation three hours later to find Kirk half-naked, slumped and spray-legged against the wall and staring at him.
"I had nothing to do," Kirk informs him sourly.
"The heat is making you agitated," Spock observes.
"That's one word for it," Kirk says. "I'd go with 'baked and crusted', but whatever."
Spock reaches for his universal translator and twists open one end. After a few minutes of reconfiguration, the indicator lights flashes green three times.
"You are mistreating the human prisoner," Spock says into the universal translator, which spits out some guttural vowels and a few unrecognisable constants. "Terrans are ill-adapted to the climate onboard Cardassian ships. Kindly reduce the temperature and humidity in this room."
The guard yanks open the door, stares at them, snorts, yells something, then disappears off the corridor.
"Not that I don't appreciate the effort," Kirk begins. "But for all we know, you could've just insulted his mother."
"I should hope not," Spock says calmly. "Cardassians hold their families at the highest regard. To insult one's mother would incur their most extreme wrath."
"I'm just gonna shut up now," Kirk says miserably.
"Wise course of action," Spock says.
Ten minutes later, the guard returns. With another indecipherable string of yelling, he sets down an enormous bucket of water on the ground, and slams the door shut once more.
"Cool," Kirk says, although he makes no attempt to move. "Big enough for a bath."
Spock furrows his brows and moves closer: Kirk's skin is hot to the touch, but dry. In the dim light, Spock can see Kirk's breathing is laboured, shallow; a telltale sign of heatstroke.
With one agile motion, Spock takes off his shirt and crumples it up, dipping it in the water. Kirk regards him with hooded eyes, and grins lopsidedly.
"Definitely saw a porno like this," he mumbles.
"Be quiet," Spock advises, and rubs the soaked shirt over Kirk's torso. The water evaporates easily, and Spock can feel the flurry of Kirk's heartbeat under his palm. Without a word, he carried the bucket over and dumped half of its contents onto Kirk's half-naked body.
"Hey!" Kirk protested weakly. "I'm still awake!"
"You will not be if you do not lower your core body temperature," Spock informs him. "Remove yourself from the wall."
Kirk slumps forwards, groaning, and Spock rubs his back with the wet shirt. After a few beats, Kirk chuckles.
"This is kinda nice," Kirk says. "I feel like I'm having a dream."
"Delirium is seldom a good sign," Spock tells him. "Do you know where you are?"
"Nowhere I'd rather be," Kirk says, slumping backwards again and beaming at him, unfocused.
"State your name for me," Spock says.
"I'm your Captain," Kirk says with a concerning deliberation. "Is the mutiny over? I'd like my chair back now."
Spock regards him in the low light, and finds Kirk's pupil blown worryingly wide. "If your core temperature does not lower in the next five minutes," he says lowly, "I will have no choice but to override your homeostatic control system via a mind meld."
Kirk licks his lips and squints. "Is that what you did, before? To put me out so I don't scratch my face open?"
"That was a light meld," Spock says. "It was preferable to the nerve pinch that you requested."
"Best sleep I've had in years," Kirk tells him, beaming sloppily. Then, "Why can't you do that to the guards? You can control all of them and we can take over the Cardassian Empire," he says, voice dropping low at the end of each sentence.
With a small exhale, Spock arranges his finger on Kirk's face. "Mind melds are not the same as mind control," he says patiently, soft. "Some Cardassians are also immune to them."
"Huh," Kirk furrows his brows. "Imagine that."
"Most species object to having their minds accessed by an outsider," Spock murmurs. Kirk's eyes are drooping, but they still have some clarity in them which Spock finds difficult to look away from.
"You're not an outsider," Kirk whispers, and his eyes flutter close.
Spock's gaze linger on the long lashes on Kirk's face, and closes his eyes as well.