I will not carry a gun... I'll carry your books, I'll carry a torch, I'll carry a tune, I'll carry on, carry over, carry forward, Cary Grant, cash and carry, carry me back to Old Virginia, I'll even hari-kari if you show me how, but I will not carry a gun! ~Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H (9/24/74)

Dinner was an unqualified success. Spock was gracious and engaged and accepted easily by all present. They told stories about Jim and Bones, everyone contributing their favorite memories. They took the good-natured abuse in stride, Spock expressing his amusement in his prototypical Vulcan fashion.

He shared enough about himself that everyone felt like they had a chance to get to know him but he in no way monopolized the conversation. He was the perfect dinner guest, fitting in without taking over.

When the food was eaten, the wine drunk, the table cleared, they adjourned to the living room, to continue telling tales, some true, some partially true, some out-and-out lies. The more wine they consumed, the less truth there was to the stories. The Pepsi Jim drank gave him permission to call the lies lies and the tellers liars. No one minded - his umpiring brought fresh gales of laughter.

Hikaru and Pavel called dibs on the empty guest room, Scotty deciding to go home for fear he'd be stuck there for another indeterminate amount of time. Nyota left reluctantly. She had an early meeting on Saturday and needed to be home for it. Chris wanted to stay but didn't think it was in the best of taste to sleep with Winona in Jim's house. Jim pointedly didn't mind but Chris left after a chaste kiss on Winona's cheek.

"Can you spend the night?" Jim asked Spock softly as they put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher.

"I can," Spock said, his hand lingering on the back of Jim's before getting the next dish.

"And you will?" Jim asked with a smile.

"I will. If there is an unusual amount of noise from your bedroom, will Leonard notice?"

"Nope. I remodeled the house and added soundproofing. I didn't want me or Len to ever be embarrassed."

"Wise," Spock agreed.

"Will there be extra noise in my bedroom?" Jim whispered in Spock's elegant ear.

"I certainly hope so," Spock responded, making Jim laugh.

"Me too," Jim agreed.

When they were satisfied that the kitchen was again spotless, they adjourned to Jim's bedroom, extra noise not heard outside the confines of his bedroom.

The insistent ringing of his cellphone abruptly brought Jim out of the deep, comfortable sleep he had been enjoying. He rolled away from the warmth of Spock, regretting having to leave his personal heat source.

"Yeah," he said when his groping hand had finally found the source of the noise.

"I need you to wake up. Then I need you and Leonard to get to the airfield," Chris voice said, a tone of urgency penetrating Jim's brain.

"Right," Jim agreed, sitting up and looking over at Spock who was watching him in unhidden curiosity. "We'll be there in 20 minutes."

"Make it 10," Chris corrected, disconnecting.

"I… have to go," Jim said to Spock. He knew it was inadequate but there was nothing of substance he could add. Spock continued to stare at him, unblinking, uncomprehending.

"Where? It is 3:30 in the morning," Spock finally said in his even, slightly tight voice.

"It's complicated," Jim said, looking over at his door when Bones opened it, already fully dressed in black head to toe. Jim blinked at the bright light that spilled into his bedroom from the hallway.

"Hurry up," Bones said, frowning in at him.

"I… I'm… I'll be there in a minute," Jim said, turning from Bones to Spock who was still staring at him. Bones closed the door, leaving them once more in the dark, alone except for Spock's simmering anger. Jim reached over and snapped on the lamp, Spock blinking once, his eyes never wavering from his intent study of Jim's face.

"Explain," Spock requested. Ordered. Didn't matter. There was nothing Jim could say.

"I'm not able to explain, Spock. I have to go. You can stay the rest of the night. No one will bother you."

Spock shook his head, leaving the bed and putting on the clothes he had worn to the dinner. Every movement was compact, not a wasted motion. He did not look over as Jim pulled on his black jeans, black turtleneck and sturdy black boots.

"I'll call you when I have the chance," Jim said, standing by the door. Spock looked at him before minutely shaking his head.

"I do not know what it is you would say," Spock said.

"I don't know either. But I can't say anything right now. I have to go."

Spock remained completely impassive, waiting for Jim to open the door. Spock went directly to the front door, pausing only long enough to pull on his coat before leaving without a word or a backward glance.

"Well," Bones said. "That didn't go especially well."

"That's an understatement," Jim said, going into his office for his secure cell phone and his gun. "Here."

"No," Bones said in refusal when Jim extended a second gun to him. "I have the knives. I'm good."

Jim frowned but silently put the second gun in his waistband, the first in the holster down his back. "You are the most stubborn S.O.B. I've ever met."

"Thanks," Bones said, zipping up his black jacket.

"Did you call the hospital?" Jim asked.

"Geoffrey is going to cover my shift. If I can't be there Sunday, they'll work it out," Bones said.

"You make those arrangements?"

"Chris did. Or possibly Tahla. I'm not entirely sure," Bones said with a shrug. "Since Tahla's chair of the board, chances are very good I won't be fired."

"Thank goodness. I don't want to have to support you completely," Jim claimed before he went back to peer into the safe. "Do you know where we're going?"

"No. Bring them all. Chris will secure the passports we don't need," Bones said. Jim nodded, taking out all of their passports, sorting them to give Bones his.

"So much for our sabbatical, huh?" Jim said as they went to the garage to enter the black Mercedes.

"Must be serious for Chris to call us," Bones agreed. "I'm sorry about Spock."

Jim could only shrug. "Yeah. Well. I'll deal with it when we get back. There's nothing I can do about it right now."

"I know," Bones said as Jim pulled out of the garage and into his narrow street.

It was 12 minutes later that they arrived at the airfield, the gates sliding open when Bones input the code. Chris was standing outside the hanger, waiting.

"Grigory Illich-Svitych has the opportunity to be reinstated as Prime Minister of Tajikistan. The citizens are agitating for his return to power," Chris said, not rushing but speaking quickly to get all the information to them. "He specifically asked that the two of you take him from the safehouse back to Dushanbe. Then you'll stay until after he's inaugurated again. The Kremlin isn't thrilled with it. There may be an assassination attempt. You have to have your eyes open all the time."

"Shouldn't we at least take Pavel with us?" Bones asked as they entered the hanger.

"I said that to Tahla. She said two's plenty, considering the two he requested. Jim will do the heavy lifting. Leonard, you only have to keep them all alive. They are in safehouse Vaccariello. The codes will be sent over secure channel when you're ten minutes out. Get them to Dushanbe safely. Stay until he's reinstated. Jim, you may have to stay through the vetting of his security detail. If so, Len, Hikaru will come get you. If he doesn't need either of you to stay, you'll fly home together."

"Got it," Jim said with a nod.

"Anything else we need to know?" Leonard asked as they stood beside shuttle #315 Qui-Gon.

"That's everything," Chris said. "I expect you home safe and sound in a week. I'll call the hospital and Spock."

"Spock probably won't talk to you," Jim said. "He's no longer speaking to me."

"That's unfortunate," Chris said. "I'm just your lawyer. I don't know why you suddenly had to leave or when you'll be back."

"Good luck with that," Jim said, waiting as Chris input the correct code for the shuttlecraft door to gracefully lower.

"I'll talk to him," Chris said. "If it comes to it, I'll have Tahla call him."

"Not yet," Jim requested. "I want to try first. When we get back."

"Sure," Chris agreed automatically.

Leonard settled into the co-pilot's seat as Jim did the preflight checks. When they were ready, Chris left, the door closed and the shuttle left the hanger to disappear into the dark night.

~o0o~

"Kirk, James T. Serial number 54989-Zulu-Lima-Hotel-November-332. Requesting permission to land at Airfield Hencke." Generally these requests were transmitted electronically but those in charge of Airfield Hencke preferred verbal authorization. And it wasn't because they were in the middle of no place Arizona. That's just how they did things.

"Airfield Hencke confirms identity of pilot. Copilot, please provide identification."

"McCoy, Dr. Leonard H. Serial number 99784-Delta-Kilo-Bravo-Whiskey-879." There was a pause before Airfield Hencke responded.

"Received and confirmed. Permission granted. Proceed to hanger 53-Romeo."

"53-Romeo. Acknowledged," Jim said.

"Why don't you ever introduce yourself at Dr. Kirk?" Bones asked as Jim piloted the shuttle to the indicated hanger.

"Because I'm not really one. I mean, a PhD isn't like an MD. If I didn't live with you, I might. But we only need one doctor in our house," Jim said.

"A PhD is as much a doctor as an MD. Just different," Bones said.

"Yeah. Well," Jim said, piloting the shuttle into the open roof of the hanger. "We arrived before we left," Jim laughed, pointing to the shuttle's chronometer that said it was 2:13 in Arizona.

"The wonder of shuttles. At least the Vulcans let us have that technology," Bones said as Jim landed flawlessly and with the smallest of thumps.

"Thankfully," Jim agreed. He entered the code to open the shuttle door before shutting down all of the systems. When the shuttle was secure, they left for the hanger, greeted by Patrice January. They suspected that wasn't her real name but they sure weren't going to ask. She was smart and all business, of indeterminate age – somewhere between 30 and dead.

"Kirk. McCoy," she said in her distinctive staccato voice.

"January," McCoy responded. Kirk held his tongue, always a little afraid she wanted to pull it out with her bare hands. And he didn't doubt for a second that she could.

"The Prime Minister and his wife are still in the safehouse. We were not willing to move them until you arrived. We have transportation. It will take you 19 minutes to arrive. They know you are coming."

"Right," McCoy acknowledged. "Any circumstances we need to be briefed on?"

"None. They are ready to leave. When you have them, you'll return here and take them to Dushanbe." They were walking out of the hanger as January explained, leading them over to the black Hummer.

"We won't be too conspicuous in this," Bones said with a shake of his head.

"It's reinforced, McCoy. Bulletproof windows. Not that you need them here. Still."

"Yeah," Bones agreed, waiting as Jim accepted the keys. "You be here when we get back?"

"No need. You have your orders. Good luck." With that, she disappeared into the dark surrounding the hanger.

"Charming as ever," Jim whispered when they were inside the Hummer.

"She is the only person I've ever known that scares you. Did she threaten to emasculate you at some point?"

"No. She is utterly immune to my charm," Jim joked, starting up the car.

"We all are. You are not nearly as irresistible as you believe."

"I am so. I have references to prove it," Jim said as he pulled up to the gate of the airfield. Leonard input the correct code, the gate sliding open.

"You really should be committed somewhere. Preferably soundproof. Safe from the rest of the world."

"You'd have to come see me. You couldn't live without me," Jim reminded him.

"I'm willing to give it a try. Then I could have a sabbatical. One that lasts longer than six freaking days."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "And maybe I could have a meaningful relationship with someone other than my hand."

"Sucks to be you," McCoy said with an utter lack of sympathy.

"Glad you finally realize it," Jim laughed, carefully driving through the Arizona night.

~o0o~

As Spock drove home from Jim's house, he could not stop replaying the events which precipitated his abrupt departure. Where could Jim and Leonard be going in the middle of the night? That they could not tell him? He could not stop from thinking that the 3:30 call was inexorably intertwined with the multiple scars on Jim's body. No writer should have so much evidence of a life not lived behind a typewriter. Well, computer. There were other facts about Jim's life that he was learning which did not add up. Why was he friends with such an eclectic mix of people? Montgomery Scott was clearly not just a handy-man. He could more than hold his own in the conversation they had had about warp drives and shuttle mechanics.

Then there was Hikaru Sulu. Certainly Spock believed that he was Jim's assistant. But surely he was also the same Hikaru Sulu who was a champion swordsman. Spock knew for a fact that he had been a fraction of a point away from being included on the Olympic fencing team.

And Pavel Chekov. Where did he fit into this puzzle? He was a certified genius, one semester away from graduating with honors from Northern Polytechnical University at the age of 19. Spock only knew this because his father sat on the Board of Trustees and Chekov had been the topic of several conversations.

Also puzzling was Jim's friendship with Tahla Uhura. There was something more to it. Tahla and Kheri Uhura were a true power couple. Between them, they controlled over half the city. The half that Sarek did not currently control. Spock had never met Tahla before and had not expected to find her so charming and down-to-earth. The rivalry between the Uhuras and the Shi'Kahr Clan was understated and rarely played out in public. They were unfailingly civil. And the Shi'Kahr Clan had barely succeeded in purchasing House Net'no'kwa, defeating the Uhuras plans to acquire it. Spock and Tahla had not discussed any sort of business at the party for Madame Kel'pol, silently acknowledging it was neither the time nor the place.

Why was Jim so close to Tahla? What was their real connection? It wasn't because Leonard was dating Nyota. That seemed to be an outcome of Jim's relationship with Tahla. Jim was at the opening at which Leonard had intervened when Jim went into anaphylactic shock.

Spock pulled into his private parking space, securing the Jaguar before entering the penthouse. He went directly to the office that was right off of his bedroom, sitting behind his computer. After checking his private messages, he accessed the Shi'Kahr Clan database. It was the largest privately held storehouse of information anywhere, one rivaled only by those maintained in Washington DC. One that only a handful of people could access, very few of whom were not members of the Clan.

The window for his instant messaging opened, his mother's icon smiling statically at him. What are you doing up, love?

Researching. Why are you awake? Spock responded, an inner smile at his mother's electronic presence.

No particular reason. Sarek is in California.

I did not know. You could have come to stay with me, he reminded her.

I know, dear. I'm fine. Just lonely. He'll be home later today. Are you well?

I am quite well, Mother. What do you know of the Uhuras?

Nothing more than you do, she said. Spock could tell there was a thoughtful pause on her end. How he knew was unclear but he was certain she was considering his question. I believe Sarek has a file in the database.

Is it confidential?

I don't think so. I'm sure if you access it, he will be fine with it. Why the sudden curiosity, dear?

You know that I have been working with James Kirk.

Yes, she agreed. I heard he's quite charming.

That has been my experience, he had to agree. Because he would never lie to his mother. There is more to him than meets the eye.

How so?

I went to the party he hosted for Madame Kel'pol. Tahla Uhura was there. What would be their connection?

I don't know, she said. Again, he waited, certain she had more to add. Check Sarek's file, dear. It may answer your questions.

I will. May I come over for lunch?

Of course. You don't need my permission to come for a visit, she responded, including one of those annoying smiling blobs.

Thank you. I will see you at noon.

I'm looking forward to it, dear. Good night.

Sleep well, Mother.

He closed down his instant messaging program, doing a database search on Tahla and Kheri Uhura. The first information he found was that which was publically available. On the file was an icon which indicated there was additional, password protected information. He followed the link, his password immediately accepted and allowing him access to the confidential information. He knew his access was logged and if Sarek had any concerns about him seeing it, his father would request an explanation.

The second file on the Uhuras was hardly more helpful. It contained very little information that he did not already have. He stifled the momentary impatience that he felt surging, rereading the information for a second time. As he reviewed it, a casual reference to something called consortium caught his eye. He had never heard of it and searched the data warehouse for further insight. It turned out to be a futile search, only three references found. Two of those concerned a collection of investors who were considering purchasing one of the oil reserves unexpectedly available due to tribal unrest. The third reference was speculation that the Consortium may have been responsible for the disappearance of Sheik Siraj Khalil-Gheisari. No further information was available.

Spock nearly frowned at the computer, wondering how it could be so unhelpful. Where else could he find the information he was seeking? His father, perhaps. But it was very late even in California. He would have to wait until morning to speak with him.

Dissatisfied with the results so far, Spock typed James T. Kirk into the search box of confidential information. He discovered very little of interest except for the one sentence, buried deep in Kirk's profile, that said Speculation has swirled for several years that he serves at the pleasure of Kheri Uhura. What could that mean? Serve as what?

A search on Winona Kirk revealed nothing except a reference to her deceased husband George Samuel Kirk. That reference indicated that George Kirk had died under mysterious circumstances in Arizona. No other details were available concerning Jim Kirk's father. The other George Samuel Kirk listed was Jim's brother, a fashion designer, married to Aurelan, traveled extensively, no children.

After his fruitless search, Spock turned off his computer and retreated into the sanctum of his bedroom where he settled down to meditate. Calm did not come as quickly as it normally did, a state he knew could be contributed directly to one James T. Kirk.