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Dean, Sam and Mal

"Sammy?"

"I'm thinking."

"Think faster, Scotty's going to put great fat holes in my ship," Dean growled, trying to stare a plan into his brother's skull.

"Well, we could pull the switcheroo Ash and co. were going to try back when they surrendered the Impala only this time we can play Enterprise's shield failure off as a 'lucky shot.' Starc should buy it, he's clever but not thinking ahead. He's not the real leader – he's the man who carries out orders and is confident that the plan will not fail no matter what. I'm pretty we can convince Kirk and his crew to surrender, subsequently and 'accidentally' beaming the rebels into the Enterprise brig." Sam stared at Dean. "In short, your standard plan B with a little Enterprise thrown in to liven it up. Good enough?"

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around and tolerated your girly hair. Put me in contact with Kirk on the Serenity."

A grumbling Sam punched a few buttons on his new console and slapped the transmit button. "You could have totally thought of that idea all by yourself. And don't insult the hair, scrubhead."

Dean shrugged and ignored his whinging brother. "Kirk! Listen up, I've got a plan!"

"You've got a plan?" Sam squawked. "It was my plan, jerk!"

"I'm the captain, it's my plan. Live with it, bitch."

Enterprise

"Ye want me tae wha?" Scotty yelped as Chekov stared at the captain wide-eyed, the secondary bridge crew decidedly nervous and wishing the captain was actually on the ship to instil courage and craziness. Or at least more than the command-hating engineer or the teenaged whiz kid who kept forgetting to explain his odd actions (even if they usually had something to do with contributing to the end goal).

"You can do it Scotty, I've got the utmost confidence in you and Chekov. Don't forget to beam us all to our correct ships while you're at it. Kirk out." Kirk nodded cheerfully to someone off screen and the connection cut.

Scotty and Chekov stared at the screen in abject dismay. "Bloody captains and their buggering impossible plans," Scotty swore under his breath as Chekov irritably waved Spock's second in command out of the science officer's chair.

"I vill need the flexibility of dat station," he explained, "and I believe you are also trained in nawigation? Excellent. Take my position. Prepare to switch back on my mark."

Scotty glared at the screen, thinking furiously. "Uhura, you can handle the surrender, aye lass?" Uhura nodded, hiding nervousness behind a stone-smooth neutral mask. "Excellent. Re-writing the automatic transporter patterns of a Constitution-class ship in five minutes, utmost confidence my ass. Keenser! Ah need you, ye blithering little alien! Uhura, you have the conn." The grumbling engineer disappeared into the lift as Chekov hammered away at the science station, swearing softly but virulently in Russian.

"Amen to that," Uhura muttered in response to one of Chekov's more interesting curses, settling into the captain's chair with grace and composure, hoping she could pull this act off as well as her captain. "Mr. Chekov, we're going to need you for that 'miracle hit.' In position, everyone?"

Chekov cracked his knuckles and waited at his original position. A favourable hit spattered against the Enterprise's solid shields and Chekov obligingly wavered them, dipping the protection percentage low enough that the shot slipped through and hit the cargo hold, causing the ship to shudder alarmingly. Playing with the shields and running several complicated routines, Chekov managed to futz the readings enough that it seemed like Enterprise was suddenly shield-less, floating defenceless in space.

"Ve are ready, Commander, but de illusion vill not hold for long," he reported.

"Hail the Impala," Uhura ordered before adopting a slightly panicked look.

The rebel leader seemed surprised to find a woman in the command chair. "Where's Captain Kirk?" he demanded in a demeaning tone of voice. Any woman worth her salt could see he disdained the fairer sex and Uhura decided to use his arrogance to her advantage.

Widening her eyes and letting her chin tremble just that much, she bleated out "Captain Kirk's missing." Internally, the strong woman cringed at the weak sound of her voice but hey, if it worked and the man actually didn't notice whatever it was Scotty was doing to the transporter, she wasn't going to complain. Much.

Starc settled into the Impala's captain chair as if he owned it and Uhura had the sudden, strong urge to introduce her wicked heeled boot to his smug, ugly face. Preferably the eye. "Captain James Kirk is missing," Starc drawled. "And they left a cute little thing like you in charge?"

Oh hell yes. Boot to the face. And then the manhood. Assuming he had one and wasn't overcompensating massively. Which was probably the case. "Your last hit took out our shields. Spare the crew and I'll surrender the Enterprise," Uhura wavered pitifully and swore that her captain so owed her a round of drinks on their next shore leave for this rigmarole.

Starc leered at her and Uhura felt her skin crawl. "Promise to surrender to me personally?"

"I swear as long as you let us live," she wobbled even as she made plans involving hot tongs, a torture rack and lots of little pink ponies. Helping Spock wrangle the Impala's alpha-shift had clearly been a good influence on her, improved her imagination and all that. Maybe she'd get alpha shift to glance over her work when she was done, see if they had any suggestions.

"We will be beaming over to Enterprise in five minutes," Starc gloated arrogantly. "Impala out."

The screen snapped off and Uhura's face twisted into a mask of calm, vengeful anger. "You are not the Impala, you bastard and I'm about to educate you on how far you have to go before you can even approach Impala's level," she hissed to an unhearing Starc. "Chekov, stand by on the transporter. I'm heading down to the brig to make sure this goes…smoothly." The infuriated communications officer stormed off the bridge, leaving a stunned bridge behind.

"Should she be allowed near the brig?" Crawford ventured fearfully.

"Do you vant to get in her vay?" Chekov asked with more than a little awe. "I do not tink it vise to make her angry."

Dean, Sam and Mal

"Standing by for transport. You sure you don't want to stick around?" Dean asked and Mal grinned.

"Hey, it's been fun but the first thing we learned in this galaxy was that Serenity's a fair sight faster than most ships but those shields of yours make Starfleet a nasty thing to tangle with. You're going to get into a throw down and we'll be of no use to you. Although I do appreciate the fair and honest treatment." He shook the case full of credits. "If you or Kirk ever need our unique talents, I'm pretty sure Sam knows how to find us."

"Come on man, poke around behind the nearest moon or something and come have a beer with us after," Dean cajoled.

Mal shrugged. "Sorry. We're moving on, it's what we do. But I'm sure we'll meet up again and," there was a quick grin, "it sure as hell won't be boring."

"Damn. Hey, if you get into trouble, feel free to drop Kirk's name," Dean urged as he busily punched buttons into the ship's transporter console.

Mal laughed as Dean slapped a hand down on the final sequence. "I'll be sure to drag Kirk down with me." He flipped Dean a quick salute as Dean hit the initiate button.

The Impala crew was left staring at an empty transporter platform. "Good dude," Dean said wistfully. "Too bad he'd never work for Starfleet."

Serenity

Mal blinked a few seconds later and glanced around his ship's cargo hold. "Hey, I'm back!" he called.

"Sir," Zoe replied, clattering down the stairs, followed closely by Kaylee. "They paid us?"

"And well," Mal informed her happily, spinning around to take in the area. "Have any trouble with our Enterprise guests?"

Zoe shot him an exasperated glance. "Well, I've determined that you and Captain Kirk will get along swimmingly. But other than that, no, they've been ideal passengers." Mal handed her the case of credits and she popped it open, whistling in surprise.

"I know," Mal shrugged, "they paid us in full, up front, in solid credit without me even bartering. I think they like us."

"Of course we like you," an unfamiliar voice said and Mal glanced up at the blond man standing in the cockpit doorway. "You hauled our first officers and my pilot out of trouble solely on their word that we'd pay you. And you've been a damn good sport about it." The newcomer with direct blue eyes rattled down the stairs and stuck out a friendly hand. "Captain Jim Kirk, Enterprise."

"Captain Mal Reynolds, Serenity. You the crazy one they've been telling me about?"

Kirk looked vaguely affronted. "I'm not crazy. My definition of normal's just a bit broader than most." There was a subtle snort from the cockpit door. "No one asked you, Mr. Sulu," Kirk shot back briskly. Mal decided that for once, everybody was right – he liked this man.

"Mal, you sure we can't keep Jimbo here?" Kaylee asked, poking at the gold-shirted man. "He's loads of fun and helped me stabilize our engines again. Turns out if you use forks, a salt shaker and River's shower head, you don't need that essential part." Kirk and Kaylee grinned at each other companionably.

"Although I'm not real sure how long it'll hold," Kirk warned. "That salt shaker looked a little dodgy – you said it had been a cup in its former incarnation? And it's been fun Kay, but I've got an entire ship to run and if I'm not there, well," he shrugged importantly and Spock cut in.

"Life is pleasant without Captain Kirk but decidedly uneventful and problems only Enterprise is capable of solving are given to other ships, complicating the original situation further when they inevitably request our help. Thus, we cannot allow you to 'keep' Captain Kirk, even though it would allow Commander Winchester and I to complete our experiment on subspace frequencies and sonic resonance."

Everyone paused. "Was that a compliment, Spock?" Kirk asked, frowning in an attempt to make sense of the statement.

"It was both a compliment and an insult, right Spock? Oh and would you send me the results of that experiment?" River asked, her eyes bright with curiosity. "I'd love to apply it to a similar theory I developed in our universe."

"Certainly. I would be interested in viewing your research as well."

River turned pleading eyes on Mal, who resisted valiantly for about five seconds before giving in with a mighty sigh. "Fine. You can be penpals with Spock. But only if you're positive we can't be tracked by the correspondence."

"I'll make sure, I promise!" River smiled beautifully, pecked Mal on the cheek and bounced happily over to her brother, who had so far held his peace, watching the newcomers warily.

A communicator beeped at Kirk's belt and the captain plucked at it, eyeing the screen. "Ah, our ride's here. It's been fun, gents, Zoe, River, Kaylee. Hopefully we'll meet up in a bar sometime when the world's not in imminent danger."

He, Sulu and Spock whirled out of existence in a shower of light, leaving the Serenity to digest what had just happened over the past few hours.

"Well, that was fun. We just keep getting closer and closer to legal and I don't know how I feel about it," Mal summed it up. "Still, I think this universe is a definite improvement over the last."

Enterprise

"Mr. Chekov!" Kirk greeted cheerily, stepping off the transporter pad. "Report."

"Uh, keptin, perhaps Mr. Spock could go ensure dat de leader Starc is still alive?"

Chekov looked decidedly uneasy, an occurrence that was growing rarer and rarer these days as the sensible kid gained experience. Kirk quirked an eyebrow. "Explain."

Chekov chose to wordlessly play back the encounter between Uhura and Starc on the small transporter room screen. "Oh," was all Kirk said. "Carry on, Mr. Spock. I'd hate to have to hide the evidence of a murder. Chekov, Sulu with me to the bridge. I assume we were successful in the transporter mission."

"It appears so, ser."

Kirk sank happily into his captain's chair and listened to the reports roll in. Sulu cheerfully booted Crawford out of the pilot's seat as a disgruntled Uhura joined them on the bridge a few minutes later, plopping into her station with graceful disappointment.

"Impala hailing, sir," she reported a minute later, long fingernails tapping on her console irritably.

As soon as the screen popped on, Dean leaned in close. "Please tell me you have Bela Talbot in your hold," he snapped out tersely. Kirk paused and glanced around the bridge.

"Mr. Spock, is Talbot in the brig?" he asked over the comm.

"Negative, Captain."

Kirk turned to a confused whiz navigator. "Chekov, didn't I say to beam everyone on that ship into the brig?"

"But I did, ser. There vas no vone in de brig vhen I actiwated de transporter."

Kirk and Dean exchanged glances.

"Then where's Talbot?"

There was an awkward pause in which everyone stared anywhere but at their incensed captains.

"Great. Just great."

Impala

"I want the entire damn ship combed! She's here somewhere, find her! Sam, turn your alpha shift geeks loose if you have to, Talbot is on this ship and we need to know where!" Dean's harsh voice electrified his crew into motion. Soon the Impala was crawling with dedicated crew members as Dean and Bobby brainstormed in the ready room.

"All right, we blew the base sky high. That should stop most of the plan in its tracks, right?" Dean growled.

"Not if they've already put it into action. If that's the case, we may have just wasted three hours instead of helping," Kirk's tinny voice echoed from speaker on the table.

"Oh bravo boys, you're not nearly as slow as I thought you were."

Dean whirled, pulling a phaser on a long, languid shadow in the corner. "Oh come on Dean, aren't we past that point?" Talbot asked, not budging from her comfortable slouch in his favourite chair.

"I don't know, are we? Are you planning to take another Starfleet ship and sell it to a bunch of crazy fundamentalists?"

"Dean, Dean, Dean, I did say I was on your side."

"Yeah, after you sold us out."

"I told you, you didn't pay me. That's the only way to secure my loyalty."

"Or there's alternative methods of persuasion," Sam growled from behind her, causing Talbot to jump almost a foot in the air. He clamped a firm hand on her shoulder, big knuckles wrapping around the tiny delicate phaser she tried to stick up his nose. "None of that, if you please."

"When did you get in here? How did you know where to find me?" she demanded sharply, voice showing the first real sign of strain.

Dean smirked, relaxed and in control. "You seem to be interested in me. Sam follows me, you show up, Sam sneaks behind you and presto. Sam's good like that. Now, you help us or I swear I'll have Ellen drug you to the gills right now and then dump you off at the closest IO station. Pretty sure Gabe's friends can hold you for a very long time even if the average Starfleet prison can't."

"Even if I have important information that I refuse to divulge until you hand me my freedom on a silver platter with my full fee beside it?" Talbot tried to stretch sensually but Sam's hand was heavy and immovable. "Ouch, let me go!"

Dean's smirk grew wider as Sam pointedly ignored Talbot's attempt at an attractive pout. "There's always Supervisory Intelligence Officer Gabriel, he's been bored for a while now. And failing that, we've got your friendly neighbourhood Vulcan over on the other ship. I'm sure Spock would assist in an interrogation."

"Not a problem," Kirk volunteered readily. "He's more than a little irritated that Starc was hitting on his girlfriend. I'm sure I can convince him to come up with a mind-meld if it promises to make Starc writhe in agony. Or squirm at the very least."

For the first time, Talbot quailed just a bit and the three sharp-eyed Impala officers realized there was something deep in her past, something she'd hidden very far far down, an event or action she didn't want anyone else knowing, an occurcence that a highly intelligent Vulcan wouldn't miss.

Dean leaned over the table, looming threateningly in her direction. "What do you know, Bela Talbot?"