Title: Home (Multichapter fic with 35 parts)
Beta: Lissaea at Livejournal
Warnings, Themes and Tropes, etc.: bondage, torture, prostitution, explicit sex, drug use
Summary: The Vulcans need a new home planet, so the Enterprise and her crew set out to find one for them.
"They'd come all the way for this? Which mad astronomer had sent them out here? Whose twisted idea had it been?"
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters.
– Home-Part 6 of 35 –
"Captain, we are still at warp, we can't beam you back," Isabaev protested as she raced after Jim towards the transporter room.
Jim looked over his shoulder, Spock wasn't behind him. He hadn't expected him to follow-Spock still had to go over the course change in detail, otherwise their two ships might end up crashing into each other. Still, he wished Spock was with him.
"You can't?" he shouted back over this shoulder.
It seemed Starfleet still didn't trust the equations.
"Well Commander, let's just say I have a very good chief Engineer." And with that he increased his pace; Isabaev couldn't keep up with him.
In under half a minute he was back onboard his ship and thanking Scotty. When he got to the bridge Sulu was talking to Pravit on the main screen. He couldn't see Spock there.
If Pravit was surprised at how fast Jim had managed to get back to his command chair, he didn't show it. When the call ended the main view screen changed back to the familiar, serene image of stars shooting past. Jim bit his tongue; there was a bitter taste in his mouth. It seemed to him the admiralty had failed-most spectacularly so.
"We've just entered the Heuygens system, sir," Sulu said. "ETA to HUY-98-6 is three minutes."
"Is Spock back on board yet?" Jim asked.
"I just received a message from the transporter room," Uhura said. "He's here now."
"Shields up, yellow alert."
It wasn't long until the turbolift doors swished open and Spock strode onto the bridge. Jim noted that he seemed to have found his composure again.
"Dropping out of warp now, sir," Sulu said.
Jim braced himself.
There was no phaser fire and the ship wasn't shaking. They had avoided falling into a nest of Klingon warbirds.
He let go of the armrests and as he did he felt everyone (minus Spock) collectively let out the breath they'd been holding. In place of the stream of stars on the view-screen a reddish-orange planet lazily rolled into view. The sight caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end-although the planet was beautiful, it was an eerie sight, so similar was it in appearance to an untouched version of Vulcan.
"Sir!" Chekov said. "A Klingon sheep!"
Jim saw it heading towards them fast-there was no need ask any of his officers to speculate on the Klingons' intentions as the bridge shook with the impact of phaser fire.
Chekov held onto his terminal with both hands. "Shields down twenty percent, but holding."
"Is there just one ship?" Jim asked.
Sulu looked up from his station. "Our sensors only detect one, sir."
The ship shook again and Jim held onto the armrests tightly. "How's the Excalibur?"
"Their shields are holding," Sulu replied. "Sir, shouldn't we fire back?"
"Not yet, just continue to evade as much of their fire as you can. Lieutenant Uhura, open a channel."
"Open, sir," she replied.
"This is Captain James T. Kirk, from the USS Enterprise. Please cease fire. You are in Federation territory."
The Klingon ship didn't reply.
"The Excaliburis hailing us, sir," Uhura said.
"On screen."
"Captain," Pravit said, "I think they might be trying to provoke us into using our photon torpedoes."
Jim gave a quick nod. "To make us destroy them and look like the aggressor."
The ship shook.
"Shields down to fifty percent now," Sulu reported.
"Seems your ship's the primary target," Pravit said. "We'll try to draw fire."
"We've got to find a way to disable their weapons," Jim said.
"And preferably without them self-destructing," Pravit added.
Spock turned to face Jim. "I will attempt to boost power to the science station to analyze our sensor readings. Maybe looking at third order effects will enable us see through their shields, allowing us to target only their weapons and defense systems."
"Get to it."
Spock got down onto his hands and knees ready to unfasten the screws to one of the panels below his station. The bridge shook again and the connection to the Excaliburwas terminated.
"We can't take many more hits like the last one," Sulu said.
Jim leant forward in his chair. "Send a warning shot across their nacelles."
"Yessir!" Sulu replied.
Jim watched as the red line of energy missed the bird of prey. "And another one!"
The Klingons didn't even try to evade.
"Lower phaser power to fifty percent and hit them!"
"The impact hardly even grazed their shields," Sulu said. "Our own are now down to ten percent."
"Keptin, we must act," Chekov spoke up.
A ball of red came streaking towards them. It illuminated the bridge in the ghastly shade of fresh blood as it filled more and more of the view screen. Time slowed down.
Jim snapped his head away from the screen. "Spock, hurry!"
His heart was pounding furiously in his chest.
Then the light was gone, as the view screen went black. A heartbeat later it lit up blue as the Klingons' photon torpedo crashed into the Excalibur's shields as she flew between the enemy ship and the Enterprise. As she passed across the screen, the next volley was already on its way.
The sound of metal against metal alerted Jim that Spock had replaced the panel. As the entire screen was filled with red light the impact lifted him out his chair. Jim slammed back down, hitting his back on something hard. Work stations and overhead panels exploded. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Spock lose his footing and crash to the floor.
"Spock!" Jim's cry echoed around the bridge.
Spock staggered to his feet, but one tentative step saw his knees buckling, although he was able to hold onto the railing in time to stop himself falling. He turned, checked the sensor readings and stumbled over to the helm, where he swept Sulu's hands out of his way.
On the view-screen Jim saw the Klingon vessel gather speed. It was heading right for them. Spock's fingers flew across the console, sending a beam of Federation phaser fire its way-a burst of light as it hit Klingon shields-and again Spock fired their weapons. Once more he hit the other ship in the same spot.
Tendrils of black smoke were curling through the bridge, spreading into every corner; they sent Jim into a coughing fit. The air smelt toxic-an electrical fire somewhere! He had to ignore the stinging of his eyes and lungs.
"Again, Spock," he shouted.
A thin line of fire was heading for them. The view changed by almost ninety degrees as Sulu used his best evasive maneuvers.
"Spock, now!"
Jim watched on as their phaser fire rushed towards the Klingon ship. It passed through their shields without resistance, scorching their hull black. Then another beam appeared. He drew in a sharp breath that burnt his lungs-the Excaliburwas joining in!
The Klingon ship went still.
"What's their weapons' status?"
"They are down," Spock replied, "and so are their shields."
Jim stood up and brought his sleeve to his mouth to keep the smoke away, surveying the bridge. Uhura was lying limp on the floor; her head resting in a pool of dark blood.
"Ensign Galand, I need you over on comms. Get me those Klingons on the view screen. And alert sickbay of our casualties."
Galand pushed his way past the debris. "On screen now, sir."
The Klingon was grinning. Jim took another painful breath and opened his mouth-.
"This is the Klingon war bird Hiran. We accept this … time out," the Klingon said. "Captain Kirk, you will meet with me on my ship in thirty of your standard minutes to discuss the situation."
And the screen went blank.
"Their position is unchanged," Spock said.
"Open the channel again," Jim barked.
He looked over to comms, but quickly averted his eyes again when they glanced on Uhura's still form.
"They aren't responding," came Galand's reply, "but the Excalibur's hailing us."
"On screen."
At that moment the turbolift doors hissed open. He turned his head-it was the medics. Jim snapped his head back to the screen. He sat up straight and explained the situation to Pravit. They quickly agreed for Pravit to beam over so they could hold talks with the Klingons together. Hopefully they would have time to come up with a strategy.
"Spock, you have the con," he said as he made his way to rendezvous with Pravit.
Next to Jim, Pravit clasped his hands behind his back. Red light illuminated his features as the alarm sirens in the transporter room sounded continuously.
"I don't trust them," Jim said, "but I think we should do it."
"The Enterprisewill have to lower her shields again," Pravit said. "Right now their ship might be floundering in space uselessly, but their main fleet might be just around the corner."
Jim nodded and jumped up onto one of the transporter pads.
"Every second we aren't searching for a diplomatic solution we risk both ships."
Pravit frowned. "What, you want to go now? They aren't expecting us yet."
"As you said-let's not risk their friends knowing exactly when we'll be dropping shields again."
Pravit joined him, phaser drawn.
"Energize," they both said in unison.
Jim had been very specific with the co-ordinates he'd given the ensign at the transporter controls-they materialized right on the Klingon's bridge,
"Captain Kirk! Very good," the Klingon captain growled.
He was a good two heads taller than Jim and staring down at him from a few feet away.
"I can tell you are an astute tactician," the Klingon continued. "But now you are trapped here!"
He walked over and eyed them both suspiciously. "Don't remember me, do you, Kirk? Oh don't worry, I forgive you. You'd had too much blood wine."
Kirk wracked his brains. He didn't remember him, but he'd read everyone else's reports from their last mission with the Klingons. Spock had mentioned someone who hadn't been drinking, who'd just been observing; obviously military, not a politician … the name was Farog!
"Captain Farog", he said, "you underestimate humans. That is your weakness."
The Klingon captain rushed at him and threw him against a wall. Jim felt a shooting pain in his chest accompanied by a damp cracking sound. There was nothing to hold on to and he crumpled to the ground. Calling a Klingon weak may have been an insult too far-or maybe he'd simply gotten his name wrong.
"Ah, Captain Patel of the Excalibur-we have not yet had the pleasure I believe. I hope you are less insolent than the whelp."
Jim didn't see Pravit's reaction, as he had to wipe the blood out of his eyes. A Klingon woman tried to pull him upright but he shook her off and got up on his own.
"Let's talk," he said.
The Klingon Captain, who was probably named Farog, Jim had decided, laughed but did gesture them towards a door. They followed his lead through the tall corridors; the familiar stink of the interior of a Klingon ship was assaulting Jim's nostrils and forcing him to control his gag reflex. He could feel cold hatred welling up inside him.
They came to a small room with a table and a few chairs in it. Jim was glad it was him at the table and not Admiral Burrows. Ha! Who did that guy think he was, anyway? He just liked bullying people from afar because he knew he was no longer important … because he was no longer out here, on the frontier of exploration and diplomacy. Now, the only person able to turn this incident around was James T. Kirk.
He wiped some more blood out of his eyes. Was he suffering from a concussion? His head felt a bit … light.
Almost as soon as the Klingon captain got them seated Jim asked, "So, when is the rest of your fleet arriving?"
Farog snorted. "Soon enough."
He leant down towards Jim, so close that their noses were almost touching. Jim stood his ground, though the heat of Farog's breath on his face made his stomach turn.
"You must make a choice," Farog said.
His face contorted into a grimace, his teeth bared, and, turning, he looked at both of them. "Do you want to see the fleet, or do you not want to see it? If you want to fight, you will stay here and I will force you to watch as your ships are destroyed. Or you could surrender now and run away like a scared jilkat with your tail between your legs."
"Surrender? We? No, never!" Jim slammed his fist down on the table.
He could feel the vibrations move all the way up his spine and into his skull; it hurt.
Pravit was signaling to Jim. He could see it somewhere just at the edge of his vision, but he kept his eyes glued to Farog's.
"We can't surrender this system, we don't have the authority," Pravit said. "You're intruding into Federation territory. I suggest we both withdraw our ships peacefully. Then we can arrange to set up another meeting on neutral ground between yourself and Federation officials."
No, that's not what Jim wanted. If they arranged another conference, what good would that do? This planet was the best candidate they'd found so far for the Vulcans, he couldn't let it fall into Klingon hands. They'd never give it back unless something was done now-unless he played his cards right. And seeing as Captain Fargo seemed to be holding a pocket pair of aces, and all he had were a two and a seven, he'd better get them playing a game in which aces scored low.
"This is not Federation territory, it is Klingon. You must surrender or we will blast you out of existence."
"As I said," Pravit continued, "in accordance with the current peace treaty that exists between the Klingon Empire and the Federation we will withdraw and set up a conference to discuss the-."
"You can have it," Jim said.
He could feel the heat of the glare Pravit was directing at him. And, yeah, he wasn't sure where he was going with this one yet, but he'd get there.
Farog laughed. "Are you so easily scared, Kirk, that you change your mind so quickly? One moment you won't surrender, the next you give us the system!"
"Yes, it's a … a gift," Jim replied. "Quite a large one! It's the only solution to this problem that I can see."
"Are you scared to die? Afraid to see your little ship burn?" Farog's eyes were wide as he sneered at the men.
"No. I'm prepared to lay down my life if need be, just like any other Starfleet officer. Take my life if you want it!"
He threw his hands up in the air, exposing his chest. Hopefully it was a universal gesture. Pravit kicked him under the table-hard. Hot pain shot up from his shin, but he ignored it; the adrenaline had reached his brain.
Jim stood up. "I will die knowing that my honor is still intact. I'm not a coward-like a Klingon who would take a planet off the Vulcans. Yes, you heard me correctly, this system is Vulcan, this will be their new home world, they took ownership of it months ago; it belongs to a people who wouldn't even raise a weapon in defense as they don't have any left. What magnificent and glorious battles you pick, Farog. But don't worry-the system is our gift to you. It is the only solution: your name will not be tarnished and the Vulcan's pride won't suffer."
Jim took a deep breath. This had to work, it just had to. He didn't know what the likelihood was the Farog would shoot him, but if he did, well, at least Pravit would still be able to do it the correct way.
Fargo spat on the table between them. Anger flashed across his dark eyes; he pulled an energy weapon from his belt. Ah ... this was it, Jim thought as he stared at the glowing red tip of the weapon, this was the end-he was going to die. But he'd rather die like this than take back what he'd just said and look an idiot.
"Go on!"
If Fargo didn't shoot him soon the slight tremors that were starting to run up his body would become noticeable, or he'd simply collapse on the spot.
"Get them off my ship." Farog's voice was a low growl.