Chapter 41- Death Before Dishonor

It really was easier than it should have been Peter thought to himself as he stood over the unconscious body of the Romulan guard panting slightly from spent adrenaline and energy. Gabriel glanced over now and again as though he too thought it was too good to be true while he worked on the restraints that held Spock captive. All Peter did was quietly open the door and sneak up behind the humanoid to use his shirt as a device to choke him out. He tried to walk the line between oxygen deprivation sufficient enough to cause a black out and choking the being to death, but it was a very fine line because given the amount of force he had to use it still took far longer than it should have which was unpleasant for both parties involved. He had never before used his medical training to harm anyone and he felt slightly guilty about it, but he had to remind himself it was for the greater good. Still, he felt compelled to kneel by his fallen foe to check for a pulse just to assure himself that he didn't cause too much damage.

"I assume you used your abilities to escape." Spock weakly noted. It wasn't Jim who came to his rescue as he had imagined, but he was grateful nonetheless.

"No." Gabriel shook his head while he concentrated on the locks that held the manacles shut. Thankfully they were very simple devices, so he sprung all of them in short order. "They are temporarily out of order."

"No time to explain." Peter stated rushing to Spock's side to help him sit up even though he didn't seem to need assistance- or he was trying very hard to convey that he didn't, Peter didn't know which was the case. "Will you be able to walk on your own?" He asked quickly checking him over for any serious wounds or injuries that would prohibit him from moving around.

Spock was silent for a moment as he took stock of his physical being. He was sore to be sure and weak from blood loss, but on the whole things could have been much worse- and probably should have been if they didn't come for him. Logically he knew that there was only a .006% chance that the rescue attempt was Sylar's idea which left Peter. He wanted to tell the young human that despite his antiquated medical training if Dr. McCoy found treating him a challenge then there was no way he could figure him out, but judging by the look on Peter's face he probably had already thought of that. "I will be able to carry my own weight," He assured him in his most confident tone, "however, I am uncertain how long I will be able to do so."

"Well, just do what you can and we will do the rest." Peter smiled. Sylar didn't seem so sure.

Nonetheless, the trio slowly snaked their way through the remaining hallways until the entrance came into view. Gabriel squatted low to the ground and whispered, "Now what?" He was referring to the two guards that stood watch by the door, talking lightly amongst themselves about the low pay the position provided which might have been funny if the situation weren't so serious.

"I believe I have a solution." Spock volunteered. Despite his fatigue and general state of weakness he had to remind himself that he was still an officer and responsible for the other two men. The sense of duty alone gave him enough strength to carry out his plan. Before Peter could protest, he silently approached the two guards from behind and simultaneously gave each a nerve pinch that sent them directly to the floor before they even knew what happened.

"What the hell was that?" Gabriel asked in awe. He wasn't sure if Spock had a power too but whatever it was, he wanted it.

"I have no idea." Peter chuckled. "But it was pretty bad ass." Peter stopped laughing when Spock had to lean against the wall for support when his own strength was no longer sufficient. He didn't hesitate to run to his aid and wrap his arm around his shoulders to help him the rest of the way. He would have carried him if he thought Spock would allow it, but he was fairly certain he wouldn't abide that kind of indignity no matter how weak he was.

Gabriel peeked outside to see chaos. A very large ship marked "USS Enterprise" hovered not far away and the Romulans were running about like a beehive under attack. "Spock," Gabriel called over his shoulder, "what is the 'Enterprise?' Are you familiar with that name?"

"Very much so." He nodded with just the slightest smirk.

Scotty didn't know what to make of the scene that played out on the large screen on the bridge. He got a transmission from Jim stating that an agreement had been reached with the Romulans. He was ordered to meet the delegation team on the mining planet to pick up the away team as well as Peter, Spock, and Sylar, but judging by the way the residents of the mining colony were gearing up for war it didn't seem like they got the memo. "Hold 'er steady, Sulu and raise the shields just in case they get it in their heads to attack."

"Aye, Sir." Sulu nodded as he reached past Claire to arm the shields with the push of a button. "Sorry." He smiled when he realized it was rude.

"No problem." She smiled. "Just doing your job, I get it." After a moment of silence she got up the courage to ask, "Do you think this will work? Do you think they really gave up?"

Sulu gave her a tense smile because if there was anything he had learned while onboard it was one should never take anything for granted until it was all over with. Things weren't always what they seemed and even the surest bets sometimes fell through, so he couldn't find it in himself to lie to her or give her false hope. "I hope so." Was the best he could do.

She understood the intent in Sulu's response, but it didn't make her feel any better. There were so many people down there that she cared about in one way or another that she felt helpless and frustrated. There was Peter and her father, her real father Nathan with whom she was never really close but for better or worse he was still her flesh and blood, and Chekov- he seemed like such a nice guy she would feel guilty if something happened to him while he was trying to keep her father and Matt safe. And then there was Jim. She had to admit that she didn't really know him, but he did stretch out his neck to help them when he didn't know them either, so that had to count for something. Even Spock worried her. She wouldn't have said he was nice in the conventional sense, but he wasn't exactly a jerk either and there was something about him that she found calming even though he kind of looked like Sylar. That last part did take away a few points even though he couldn't really help it and at least he managed to wear the dark and brooding look without seeming like a maniac. She imagined he was more of an emo type- the kind of bad boyfriend that you sneak out at lunch with to smoke cigarettes in the alley behind the school. But the more she thought about it, it occurred to her that he was emo without actually being emo and somehow that just made sense.

"They look like angry ants." Ando commented lightly nudging Hiro in the side.

"Yes, but ants can sting and destroy everything with their collective power." Hiro nodded seriously as he watched the black clad figures scurry about on the ground.

"Then let's hope they have a huge can of bug spray on this ship because now we are without powers to help." His friend replied darkly.

Uhura was busy monitoring the communications that flew like darts between the Romulans. Despite patching through the communication from Jim herself, she still questioned the reality of it given the reaction and near panic that was going on. She had no reason to question Jim- not on something like this anyway. No matter her personal feelings on the captain or his various and numerous shortcomings as a human being, one thing that was certain was that he would never place his ship and crew in direct danger without them knowing what was going on. She was at first elated to hear that Spock and the others would be released and made a mental note to give Matt a huge hug for his efforts because he seemed to be the kind of guy that would appreciate such a thing without taking it the wrong way, but the more she listened, the more skeptical she became that this would all end neatly with a cherry on top. Especially when she heard the order go through to execute all prisoners before they could be liberated by the Federation.

Matt didn't really like flying, but by the looks of it Dr. McCoy detested it even more. The ship was small and cramped- so much so that all occupants nearly sat on one another in order to fit and once more Matt was reminded of how much more space he required than everyone else. He tried to read the minds of others to see if they noticed as well, but his powers were gone. The only person that he could be sure minded was Chekov who was sandwiched between him and a solid metal wall. The shallow breathing that could be mistaken for gasps and weak attempts to shift position were the only indication of the stoic Russian's suffering.

Jim tried to keep a neutral expression on his face even though he too was miserable. He was sweating profusely from being wedged in like a sardine in a tin can and the whole joint smelled vaguely like wet garbage. He was sure that given his current situation and the time he spent in the sweltering Klingon ship that he was no doubt contributing to the overall stench and he very much looked forward to a nice cool shower when all was said and done. The only respite he had was to turn his head slightly to the left where Nathan sat with his elbow wedged into Noah's chest and concentrate on the lightly fragrant scent of his cologne that was holding up remarkably well given the circumstances. It didn't make him gay, he reminded himself, it was practical because it was just no good to throw up and add to the problem.

Funny that McCoy was also thinking of throwing up, but he didn't give a damn about appearances and if the mood struck him he would let fly. Better out than in he always thought. It was just a shame that Jim was too far away since this was all his fault in the first place. As it was, a Romulan was his neighbor and if anyone deserved retribution more than Jim it would be a Romulan so second best would have to do. Rather than choose a target, he took a deep breath and shifted his medical bag while Nathan glanced at him nervously.

Noah sat patiently with Nathan's elbow in his chest and tried his best not to take deep breaths- both because of the smell and the discomfort. He told Scotty that he had seen worse before when he volunteered to come, but he was starting to rethink that statement. After all that he had witnessed and been part of in the Company's dirty dealings, he had never experienced anything quite like this. He felt naked despite wearing the standard uniform of the ship along with Nathan and Matt because he didn't have his gun. There was simply nowhere to conceal it in the snug outfit and he felt like less a man without it.

When the ship finally landed on Dahel, each man nearly trampled the next in an effort to reach fresh air. But what they walked out into was no better than where they came from because all around them chaos reigned supreme and blood flowed like water across the dark ground.

"What the hell is going on?!" McCoy yelled over the din between explosions.

"I am not certain." Koval stammered watching bodies running to and fro and occasionally falling dead right before his eyes.

Nathan watched the horror with a detached sense of calm. He had seen war before and he had led his men against the enemy. He knew the brutality with which one man could treat another and neither time nor distance could separate the laws of basic human greed. The Romulans may not have been humans, but they were similar enough to fall prey to the same desires and instincts. So it was not surprising to him when he realized that the Romulans were setting off bombs themselves- it wasn't the Federation ship that floated peacefully above the fray, it was a desperate attempt to deny final victory by destroying their own. It had happened before in history and it was all happening again. Death before dishonor.

In crisis situations, time really does slow down- or at least that was how it appeared to Matt as he watched Chekov, Noah, and Jim run toward the chaos. It was only after they were almost to their destination and too far away to hear the rest of them yell that a bomb was incoming did he realize why they had fled in the first place. In a small clearing among the running and the blood and the dead, Peter struggled to help Spock walk while Sylar led the way toward what he assumed would be a safe place behind a large rock. In what could only have been a second but seemed like hours, all involved were enveloped by flying dirt and debris when the bomb hit its target and the darkness swallowed them all.