Chapter 53- Plan B
Everyone in the sickbay heard it: the Romulans had found them and the Klingons responded by sending out a fleet of ships like a swarm of Africanized bees whose hive was being attacked. Jim had stopped by looking for Noah and he heard the chatter from the com system. Although all non-essential systems were shut down on the ship, the sickbay was the one area that was considered sacrosanct and was kept fully functional at all times. Jim only knew a few words in Klingon, but he most definitely made out "Romulan" and "attack." He fled the sickbay and raced to the bridge as fast as he could go only to see his worst fears confirmed. He had inadvertently started another war.
It wasn't exactly his fault, he reasoned. As near as he could tell the Romulans came of their own accord and who was to say that they wouldn't have followed him when he rescued the Klingons in the first place? In fact, they certainly would have if they knew that the prisoner was being held- so it was an inevitability in his estimation. And it wasn't like the Klingons were coming to the defense of the Federation ship: they had their own axe to grind with the Romulans, so it was a personal matter that Jim was comfortable staying out of. He just hoped that none of the Romulans spotted the Enterprise helplessly docked and defenseless. Each passing second now was a gift because at any moment they could be found and destroyed.
"Could the evolved humans help us?" Chekov asked hopefully. He wasn't afraid of battle, but he didn't like being a sitting duck either.
"We have already asked too much of them." Spock responded sternly. "The agreement was to give them shelter and safety in exchange for biographical and physiological data. I am afraid that so far we have not been able to hold up our end of the bargain as we had intended. Each time they intervene on our behalf, the more danger they ultimately place themselves in by risking exposure of their abilities and the personal harm that can come from using them. Sylar and Peter are still recovering from their attempt and the doctor has warned Mr. Nakamura against further teleportation although I understand he disregarded this directive to get us here."
"He did!" Chekov eagerly agreed. "He and Ando stood right here next to me and vith a blink of the eye ve vere here." In some ways he still couldn't believe his own eyes. As a navigator he knew exactly how much distance had been traversed in a mind boggling short period of time. "It simply isn't possible by the laws of physics as I know them. By my calculations, ve have traveled something approaching twice the speed of light and by all accounts ve should have suffered being stretched infinitely thin vith infinite mass much like sitting on the edge of an event horizon of a black hole."
"And yet here we are." Sulu mumbled in awe looking down at his perfectly formed hands as though it were some miracle they held their shape. It kind of was, really.
"Spock's right." Jim sighed defeated as he leaned on Sulu's station. "We rely on them too much and this isn't what they signed up for. They aren't soldiers and no matter what they can do, we have to man up and do our jobs to protect them like we said we would. But Chekov might be onto something. As long as we sit here defenseless, we can be blown away without a second thought. We might be able to use them just one more time if they can and I know just who can help here."
"You cannot be serious." Nathan deadpanned with a stunned look in his eyes. "No way, I'm not having it this time. No, and that's final."
Peter turned to look incredulously at his brother. "Since when did you become Ma?" He nearly howled. "How about letting me decide since I'm the one he's talking about here?"
"Pete, you have been through and done enough here." Nathan scolded. "Why not let your new BFF over there take one for the team for once?"
Sylar glared at Nathan with red rimmed eyes. He just woke up from his self imposed hibernation to hear Jim asking Peter if he thought he could create a force field around the ship in the event they were fired on. While he was a little put out at first because it seemed that being burned alive wasn't good enough for him, he was even more incensed by Nathan's sarcasm. He wasn't anyone's BFF but he would make Nathan his bitch if he kept it up. Sylar was generally a very patient man, but as of late Nathan was leaning on his last newly regenerated nerve.
Jim turned to take in the death stare the killer was emanating and it really was terrifying. If he was as angry as he looked, he didn't know what was keeping him from doing something very bad to Nathan because he knew firsthand that he was capable of some pretty wicked badassery if he wanted to be. "Sylar." He nodded in a half-friendly, half please-don't-kill-the-messenger tone. "How are you feeling?"
Sylar's dark eyes flickered over the Captain's face, but he didn't bother answering. He knew he probably didn't really give a damn. What he really wanted to know was if he was up to being roped into yet another impossible task…with Peter…again. "The problem here," he began to lecture in a bored tone, "is that our telekinetic force is useless against laser weapons, remember?" He smirked slightly in acknowledgement of initially being shot by Jim. "Light does not have mass and without mass we can't stop incoming fire."
Jim had forgotten about that little snafu. "Jesus, you're right." He sighed hanging his head. "We can't raise the shields while we are docked. We have to find some other way of protecting the ship." In a way he was disappointed because he had come to believe there was nothing the evolved humans couldn't do, but he was also relieved because he didn't feel right relying on them so much. Perhaps this was the push he needed to get inventive.
"We could always evacuate the ship." McCoy suggested darkly. "I know it would look like we are tucking tail and running, but I think that's our best option right now."
"The question is, will the Klingons let us go down planetside?" Jim mused. "They are all for letting us dock, but being on the surface may be problematic for us and them." He paused to glance at Peter. "We are in deep enough as it is. At this point we can still spin this all in our favor, but if you guys go down and are put in a position where you have to use your powers we are screwed."
"Why would we have to?" Claire inquired. "If we just mind our own business, we'll be ok, right?"
"You obviously didn't meet the Klingons while they were on the ship." McCoy grumbled. "They'll challenge you to a fight for wearing green on Tuesday. It doesn't take much to piss them off and the only way out of it is to fight."
"They sound like charming people." Nathan mused. "Isn't there anyone out here that is not trying to kill you?"
"Spock's people: the Vulcans." McCoy scoffed. "But I think they just tolerate us more than anything."
"I think that's the best we got, then." Jim nodded. "Bones, are all your patients able to be moved?"
McCoy looked around the room and shrugged. "Peter and Sylar were the last ones on hold, but I think we can let them go now." He quickly and lightly ran his finger along Peter's exposed arm looking for him to flinch, but he didn't. "Seems like you're all intact again. No stinging or burning pain?"
"Nope." Peter smiled. "I think all's well again."
He turned to Sylar, but stopped short at the warning glare he was getting that clearly said he didn't want to be touched. "I will be fine if I can just get some clothes." He said in a confidently low voice. Of course the inferno he had created burned off all of his clothing and he was uncomfortably nude under the linens. Sylar wasn't a prude, he might not have minded just jumping off the table to go about his business, but he was very close to Claire and he really didn't want an audience. There was no reason to show all of his cards as it were- some things should be left to the imagination. He frowned when he realized that Peter was probably in the same predicament, but he really didn't want to think about both of them being nude in the same room without a damn good reason for it. He sure as hell didn't want a peek at the Petrelli family jewels.
McCoy made clothing for them both from the replicator and everyone left the room to let them get dressed in relative privacy. Still, Sylar didn't throw the blankets off until he had his underwear on which was a bit more challenging than he had bargained for. It seemed so much easier taking them off under the covers on the occasions he had 'company' and the situation called for it… Peter hopped out of bed and only made a fleeting attempt at modesty; he at least had the decency to turn sideways while he pulled on his drawers. In the end it left Sylar feeling very much like a prude because Peter's approach was sensible and much easier than his own silly solution. It was like gym class all over again and Peter was the jock while Sylar- or rather Gabriel- was still the nerd. At least Peter wasn't a dick about it and pretended not to notice while he slipped on his shirt even though he did wonder exactly what the hell Sylar was doing under the blankets.
Sylar held out the fresh red shirt that vaguely smelled of ions and shook his head. Peter was the absolute picture of perfection in his crisp blue uniform and Sylar secretly hated him for it. He considered himself a fairly fashionable man, given to darker colors and subtle contrasts in his clothing for variety, but altogether he usually looked sharp no matter if he was fresh off a kill or lounging in his apartment reading books. The bright red shirt was a bit too loud for his tastes and clashed with his dark features. It just wouldn't do. Not again. He pulled it over his head for the time being, but only long enough to get the clothes from his quarters that he had come with: the dark jeans, black button up with an understated wave pattern in a slightly lighter shade of black, and his black trench style overcoat made of a lightweight wool that was perfect for unpredictable weather- and hiding blood stains. It was also easy to spot clean which was important. His clothes had been cleaned of his own blood from when Hiro and Bennet had ambushed him in his own apartment and he felt like his old self as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Yes, Sylar was back.
"Hey there." Claire smiled as she came upon Chekov in the hallway. "Are you busy?"
He glanced up from his PADD where he had been taking inventory of each crew member who was assigned to the next trip on the shuttle to the surface and blushed. "Um…no, I just vas making sure each person gets to safety."
"Yeah, that sounds kind of important." She laughed. "I'll let you get back to that."
He quickly dropped his PADD to his side and countered, "The last group just left and the next group von't go for at least 20 minutes. I have already finished the manifest, so I have some time." He trailed off bashfully because it seemed presumptuous on his part to assume she would want to stick around and talk to him in the first place.
"Ok." She nodded. "If you promise I'm not keeping you from doing your job. I don't want to get you into trouble."
He stood at attention and replied, "I swear it on my mother's life." There was nothing more precious to him than his mother.
Claire's eyes twinkled in amusement. "You sort of disappeared there for awhile. Are you ok?"
It took a minute for him to decipher what she was getting at, but he smiled broadly in embarrassment. "I vas called to the bridge. It happens sometimes, but Dr. McCoy said I am fine now. He always does a vondeful job in fixing people." He swallowed anxiously and debated his next words. "Vas Sylar released?"
She looked confused. "Yeah," she answered slowly, "the doctor told him he could go. Why do you ask?"
"Vell, vhen I came back you vere sitting vith him and I just thought…" He shrugged.
"Thought what?" She asked with a knowing smile. "That he and I have something going? I can promise you the answer is most definitely no. In fact we pretty much hate each other."
"But vhy then…?" He asked perplexed.
"It's complicated." She smiled. "Anyway, so we are leaving the ship to go down to the alien planet." She tried not to look apprehensive, but she couldn't help it. "That sounds…fun."
"It vould not be my choice for the first planet for you to see, but ve really have no choice." He said darkly. "The Klingons can be wery frightening, but it is better than sitting here vaiting to die."
"We all have to die sometime." Sylar's ominous voice rang down the hallway. He slowly approached and looked down at Claire with a menacing smirk. "Well some of us anyway."
"What are you doing here, Sylar?" Claire sneered.
He brushed it off as though he didn't notice the contemptuous way she glared at him. "To get my ticket punched." He lightly replied. "We are going down to a hostile alien world and I for one can't wait to meet the natives."
"Sylar, you heard what Captain Kirk said!" She hissed. "You can't go down there and cause trouble!"
She was panicked as though they were about to get caught smoking in an airplane bathroom and it amused him to no end. He feigned a hurt look and gently placed his hand over his heart. "Claire, who said anything about getting into trouble? From the way it sounds, we should get along rather well." He gave a low chuckle as he patted Chekov on the shoulder on his way past to the shuttle bay.