I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural
Impala
"You're sure I'll be recognised?"
"Dude, do you want to be caught because one of your fangirls glomps you in the street and some police officer notices?"
Dean glared at his brother, sitting far more calmly in his chair.
Well, he seemed calm at least, because the true state of Sam Winchester's mind became apparent when he cursed viciously and slammed a fist down on the console.
"What?"
"They've cut the Impala out of the network entirely. I'd love to send the Los Angeles and the Washington to go help out the Enterprise but I can't even contact Starfleet Command. It'd take Ash at least forty eight hours to crack this and we don't have that kind of time."
"So? Enterprise is a big girl, she can look after herself. We've got a mole to hunt down in Starfleet right here otherwise we're going to end up on the lam. Permanently."
Sam stared at him. "And how exactly do you plan to get off this dead-locked ship?"
Dean grinned, bounding out of his captain's chair. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. I never thought you'd ask. Cas, you have the con. If anyone asks, we're sequestered in the ready room, awaiting our fair representation. Ash, you're coming with me and Sam." And then Dean Winchester smiled with all of his teeth in an expression that boded ill for any who crossed him. "Sam. I think it's time we introduced alpha shift to the rest of the world, don't you?"
Sam looked confused for a brief second and then matched his brother's grin. "Sure. Why not?"
Alpha Shift
"Okay, so this is how it goes," Sam began, surveying a room full of colourful characters, most sporting interesting hair dye jobs, chemical-stained fingers and singed lab coats. Alpha shift perked up their ears. "It's a very detailed plan, one that will take all of your considerable attention and skill."
Alpha shift started to droop. The last time Sam had said something like that, they had had to recalibrate the long-range sublight scanners and it had taken them a very boring week.
Sam planted both hands on his desk and leaned forward.
"Raise hell."
Dean, Sam and Ash
"You turned the mad minions loose?"
"Yep."
"Dude, we ready?"
"Let's do the impossible."
"So dramatic, Sammy. Wait for it…"
There was a bang several decks above and the thud of security feet materializing on the transporter pad before running off after alpha shift.
"Right. Down the garbage chute," Dean said with a flourish, holding the door open.
"I hate you so much," Sam grumbled, wriggling his big frame into the hole in the wall. Bobby had redesigned this particular chute just for situations such as this although it wasn't exactly what you'd call regulation. At all. In fact, it was downright illegal.
And it stank.
Sam landed with a dusty 'oof' at the bottom, landing on a pile of old Earth mattresses. Apparently Bobby thought the antique approach funny. He rolled out of the way just in time, his brother clearly aiming to hit Sam like a bulldozer. Ash slid down a few seconds later. "Just missed a patrol. Their uniforms are pink now, by the way. Alpha shift seems to be having fun."
Dean stood up, patting himself down. "All right. Disguises. Then we go spy-hunting."
Enterprise
Kirk experimentally prodded at a loose tooth with his tongue. The command crew sat morosely around him, Uhura in the darkest, safest corner. Call it chauvinism if you like, but she was the one who spent the least amount of time on an away team. The rest of his people were probably locked in the hold. He hoped. Gain probably wouldn't pass up on the chance to pick up four hundred or so live test subjects.
And in the meantime whenever she felt stressed, she got one of her goons to beat the shit out of him. At least she hadn't turned to organized torture and drugging again. Yet.
Of course, the instant he thought that, the cell door swung open and several burly thugs entered. "You," the lead thug grunted, pointing at Spock.
"NO!" Kirk shouted, bolting up off the floor only to stare down the nose of a phaser.
"Sit down or we start killing," the thug growled, thumbing the phaser from stun to kill and shifting until the phaser pointed at Sulu. Kirk clenched his fists but at a quiet "Captain, please," from Spock, he reluctantly sat back down on the floor.
His best friend and first officer was led away to a psychotic witch known for her cruel treatment of entire planets and Jim Kirk let it happen.
He let it happen for hours. No matter what he thought of, no matter what crazy batshit plan he tried to concoct, none of them had a snowflake's chance in hell of succeeding. So when Spock came back oozing clear green blood and covered in bruises, dark eyes glazed with pain, Kirk smacked himself around the head several times with the figurative hammer.
And when they pointed to a grim-faced Bones, Jim Kirk rebelled to the point where they had to beat him into unconsciousness with one of the stools from the security office.
He came back to himself listening to Uhura berate Scotty for defending the captain and gaining a black eye of his own. Taking internal inventory, Kirk guessed he had several busted ribs, a fractured hand, a pounding concussion and the only part of him that didn't hurt was his hair. Maybe.
Slowly pushing himself to a sitting position against the wall, he surveyed the room. Uhura was paler than a sheet (quite a feat for her), Spock was an odd color of greenish salt and Scotty was red with rage. Chekov was already hovering at his captain's side as Sulu kept watch by the door. "Where's Bones?" Kirk slurred.
Uhura shrugged helplessly. "They haven't brought him back yet and I need him to help me with Spock." Kirk tried to get up, to go over and Chekov gently pushed him back.
"He vill be all right, keptin. Ve need you as vell."
Kirk glared at the kid with no real heat. The wide-eyed teenager was turning into a sensible, solid Starfleet officer who refused to flinch when he knew he was right. And Chekov was rarely wrong, so Kirk reluctantly slumped against the wall, trying valiantly to ignore the drumming in his head.
Ignoring the drumming didn't work so well, especially considering it beat out a tattoo of accusation. His ship was taken, his friends beaten and he still didn't know if the rest of his crew was still alive. He needed to get out of this damned call.
He needed to get out of the cell.
It became a mantra as consciousness slipped away again.
Scotty growled in consternation as the captain passed out.
Sulu took a deep, measuring breath. Time to kick things into gear. He had been hoping that the captain would come around long enough to think up the plan but clearly that wasn't going to happen. "Pavel," he said lowly. His friend nodded. Chekov had been working for hours on the door lock with the tiny, under-powered computing device that had been hidden in the sole of his boot.
Now, Chekov almost had the code cracked and Sulu had to calm down the excitable Montgomery Scott, which was a feat and a half in itself. By the time Scotty was listening to Sulu, Chekov had the cell door open and was waiting for the next phase of the plan.
"Uhura, can I have Spock's right boot please?" Sulu asked.
A confused communications officer handed Sulu the boot. Popping two pellets out of the lining, Sulu quickly clicked them open. Both were only half full and pouring one's contents into the other resulted in an odourless gas. Pitching it down the corridor, Sulu soon heard the soft thump of guards falling prey to the knock-out drug.
"Scotty, go lock those guys in a cell and break the lock panel so no one can get them out," Sulu ordered. "Chekov, change that lock so it can be opened from the inside but not the outside." Chekov nodded, locking their captain and first officer safely into the cell as Scotty gleefully and not-carefully-at-all dragged, bumped, shoved and kicked the guards into their new residence.
Once the quartet of free officers stood staring at each other uneasily in the security office, Sulu put Phase II into action. "Scotty, can you and Chekov stop this ship dead in its tracks?" Scott stared at him mournfully.
"Oh aye laddie. But she's going to hate us something fearful."
Sulu acknowledged this but didn't change the request. "Better she be in the right hands and hating you than scattered across space as slag junk. Hop to it. Uhura, you and I are going to rescue Dr. McCoy."
Uhura took a deep breath, picked up a phaser and nodded. "Ready. Let's roll."
"Bloody Gain and her bloody ham-handed jackass guards," Scotty mumbled under his breath, yanking out wires by the fistful and disassembling various essential pieces of machinery as Chekov sent a rampant computer virus into the control systems of the Enterprise. "An' one an' two three," he grunted, pulling out the final key part.
Enterprise shuddered, groaned, dropped out of warp and screeched to a blinding halt, sending Chekov pinballing into the console across the room and Scotty smacked his head off the floor hard. Rubbing his sore noggin, the engineer extracted himself from under the warp cores as Chekov staggered to his feet. "Ve must hide," he said quietly but urgently. "And not in de wentilation shafts. Dat vill be the first place they look."
Scotty agreed so they hid themselves in with the still, behind a cleverly hidden secret panel, designed to be sensor-proof and thus avoiding the notoriously stringent Starfleet inspectors. "Does de keptin know about this?" Chekov asked curiously, squashed between the still itself and a pile of full bottles.
Scotty glanced about shiftily. "We have an…arrangement. He's got a love for fine alcohol. An' it's got medicinal properties." He dropped one of the computer chips he had taken from the console into an open-necked bottle and shook it about. "Also verra good at disabling delicate machinery."
Chekov grinned. "I must try some after this."
"Good lad!"
Sulu was really kind of wishing he'd paid attention all those times when Chekov had volunteered to teach him how to hack doors and the like. He was watching Uhura do it the Starfleet way, since their lives up until joining the Enterprise had been rather more mundane than the rest of the crew.
Which was supposedly a good thing but only ended up being a pain in the ass when they needed to save Dr. McCoy, somehow capture Dr. Gain and preferably save the Federation in the process somewhere along the way.
Decisions, decisions.
Uhura let out a soft cry of delight and the door to the security department's surveillance room slid open. A quick scan of most major camera views showed that they were indeed beating McCoy in the ready room while Gain swanned about the bridge. Starc and Walker flanked her, almost grovelling at her feet.
"Bitch," Uhura hissed just as the ship jolted to a very violent, very unnatural and rather Enterprise-punishing halt. Uhura barely kept herself from pitching face-first into the console as Sulu cursed, arms waving wildly in an attempt to brace himself. "Take that," Uhura continued as if she had single-handedly stopped the ship herself.
Thankfully, the idiots stopped beating Dr. McCoy and ran out to consult with the crazy lady. Uhura pulled up the volume on low just in time to hear "search engineering! I want the saboteur found!"
Uhura sent Sulu a worried glance but he shook his head. "Scotty and Chekov aren't stupid. They won't get caught. We have to get to Dr. McCoy." Thankfully, the pilot knew one very useful computer trick that he had scammed off Chekov in an attempt to impress a tech-savvy girlfriend.
When Gain's men piled into the lift and the door shut, Sulu typed a long string of commands into the computer and watched in satisfaction as the elevator promptly rode to the very bottom level of the ship and opened. It would stay there on the garbage disposal floor until someone figured out how to unlock the elevator controls. That someone would have to be Chekov. Therefore, Gain's men weren't going anywhere.
Hypothetically.
Assuming Gain wasn't as clever as Chekov.
Sulu could always hope.
"Well laddie, do we sit here now that they've missed us or do we go adventuring?" Scotty had cooled off significantly after a short time in the still room although the temptation to sample his latest micro-brew was growing overwhelming.
Chekov picked up a few extra tools that Scotty had been using to adjust the still and popped on the portable plasma-torch. "Obwiously ve go help Sulu and Uhura!"
"Agreed! Where to first?"
Chekov thought for a moment.
"Perhaps ve should flood de bridge with a sleeping agent?"
Scotty thumped the thin young man on the shoulder. "That's what I like to see, initative! All right, first we'll need to stop off at Ensign S'mth's station, the laddie's measuring the effects of various gasses on the warp cores. He's got sommat in there for us to use."
"And I vill pick up a fan and piping. Meet you at the wentilation shaft in five?"
"Make it three."
Sulu had left Uhura in the surveillance room so she could warn him away from the thugs. Luckily, security liked Sulu and had given him both the combination and thumb print access for the sword cabinet and now he was satisfactorily armed.
"Take the next left!" Uhura said calmly but definitively.
"It's a dead end," Sulu pointed out.
He might have heard a faint snort. "Just trust me." Swallowing a retort, he jogged down the next left.
"Dead end," he said, trying to keep the "I told you so" out of his tone.
"Ventilation shaft, you unimaginative person," Uhura drawled, disdain rippling through the comm.
Oh. Right.
Sulu boosted himself up and into the shaft, pulling the grate into place just in time to hear a few goons check the corridor. Following Uhura's mystifying instructions, Sulu managed to reach one of the great open air shafts leading straight up the core of the ship. "And now you climb. Several levels," Uhura told him, trying to sound sympathetic through a small giggle.
Sulu squinted into the distance. It was a long way up, damn it. "Uhura," he said warningly.
"Sulu, I promise it's the only way to go."
"This is going to be so much fun."
Dean, Sam and Ash
"Sam, I am so going to kill you for this. Very, very dead."
"Hey, at least no one will recognize you as Dean Winchester."
"I look ridiculous!"
"Well then, you shouldn't be upset. It's just business as usual." Sam grinned and dodged his brother's punch.
Ash strolled ahead of the bickering pair, not exactly in his element but definitely more comfortable dressed as a dirty sewer repair man than his captain, whose jumpsuit was too small, exposing strips of space-whitened skin around his ankles and wrists. Dean had tried to tuck the legs into the work boots but hadn't really been successful and right now he looked like every reject delinquent dragged to a job he hated, complete with sullen face and clenched fists.
Sam's suit fit him. Sam's suit covered his ridiculously long arms and legs. Sam didn't look like a retard. Sam was going to find that coffee chip missing when they got back to the Impala and then when anyone asked, the chip had been lost by Sam, not Dean.
When they reached the appropriate sewer, Ash pried the cover back and the three spy-hunters dropped down into the system. For all of Starfleet's advances, sewers were still dark, drippy, smelly and nasty. Sam led them unerringly though, finally stopping at a rather blank, exit-less stretch of tunnel. "All right Dean, do your thing," he said, scratching an 'x' on the roof.
Dean popped the big tool case open and pulled out a plasma-torch. "You sure no one will hear this?" he asked. Sam shrugged.
"Anything with vibration will set off the sensors. I'm pretty sure no one has ever thought of using a torch on concrete. Just be careful. If you melt the servers, we're screwed as well as traitors."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Sam." Dean popped the portable torch into its active configuration, pulled down a dark pair of goggles and hit the switch. A blue-green flame hissed into existence, its soft roar warning all and sundry that this particular tool could cut through just about anything less dense than a star ship's hull in less than ten seconds flat.
Including concrete.
Dean paused just before he closed the four foot wide circle, leaving Sam to chip at the last bit with a chisel. Dean and Ash caught the chunk of concrete, lowering it soundlessly to the ground. And that left them staring up into the basement of one of Starfleet's most secure facilities.
"Costume change," Ash drawled as Sam tossed a grappling hook up into the room. Dean stripped out of the maintenance suit as quickly as he could, happily pulling on a Starfleet janitor's outfit. They swarmed up the rope and into the computer room, careful to stay out of camera range.
Ash pulled out a PADD and hooked into the mainframe. "Now then," he said coldly. "There's never any real hiding in cyber-space. You can always be found."
Impala
Cas twiddled his fingers idly. Dead ship, dead computer, no captain and Starfleet had promised to flood the Impala with gas. A thought occurred to Cas – currently, alpha shift had all the security officers occupied.
Perhaps it was time for Cas and Bobby to see what they could do about that gas application. "Bobby?" he asked over the comm.
"Yeah kid?"
"I think it's about time to get creative." Castiel twiddled with a few ideas, mimicking Ash's prediction skills for a minute. "I think it's safe to assume someone's trying to take down Starfleet and we're going to need the Impala."
"What did you have in mind?"
Twenty minutes later, the electronic triggers that would allow Starfleet to send a signal releasing gas or taking control of the Impala were effectively deadlocked. Jo happily spun a spanner as she and Bobby surveyed the last trigger. "All secure," she reported.
Cas, still up on the bridge, drew just a phantom's shadow of power from the dilithium chambers, just enough to bring up the sensor array and give the Impala back her eyes. "Now all we can do is wait for the captain."
Enterprise
Sulu had been climbing forever, it seemed. When he finally reached his destination and wriggled into the ventilation systems as Uhura instructed, he paused to catch his breath.
Then he caught the first whiff of something off in the air and cursed his clever best friend six ways to Sunday. Chekov was looking to incapacitate the whole ship and he was going to accidentally knock out Sulu in the process. Scrambling through the shafts, Uhura encouraging him the whole way, Sulu almost made it to the ready room when his head started to swim and his body stopped listening to him.
His last conscious thought was of the virulent verbal mayhem Uhura would wreak on Chekov and Scotty for sending him off to la-la land.
Uhura wasn't sure whether she should kiss the two idiots down in engineering or tear a strip off them. Enterprise was now dead in space, full of sleeping foes and enemies. And Sulu was passed out in the ventilation system. Uhura had had the presence of mind to slam the security office shut and enact environmental protocols but now she was stuck wearing a mask and watching Chekov and Scotty skip through the ship up towards the bridge.
Then Uhura realized she hadn't seen Walker for a while. He'd actually disappeared off the cameras after leaving the bridge and she remembered belatedly that he'd been IO, a spy. Double-checking her door and the captain's cell/safe haven, she let herself feel a thin smidge of relief before scouring the video files for anything resembling Gordon Walker.
Zilch.
Not good.
She filled Chekov and Scotty in on the problem as they stepped over sleeping guards. "Make sure you're armed and don't go off by yourselves," she said, trying to keep her voice calm like any good communication officer should.
"Aye aye, mother hen," Scotty teased and she bristled, punching irritably at a few extra buttons.
"Where are you?" she muttered, running every scan she could possibly access from the security station. She could really use Gabriel's advice at the moment. This would be right up his alley.
Gabriel
"You're certain the coordinates are correct?" Gabriel asked with cold seriousness running through every syllable spoken.
"Positive."
Gabriel hummed in thought, trying to fathom the most prudent course of action. He had a pretty good idea where the Winchesters went and they were going to get themselves caught at the very last second and then they'd be screwed.
"Look," the shadowy person shifted, "I know you've got no reason to trust me but I want to do this. I really do. And you're running out of time."
He pushed the chair back, leaving his latte on the café table. Bright, sunny San Francisco afternoon, everyone going about their business with absolutely no idea that their lives could be ending in very short order if this didn't go off right.
It hadn't been difficult to slip off the Impala and even easier to avoid Starfleet's security goons because really, if an IO couldn't avoid the goons then he didn't deserve to be IO.
"Fine," he said slowly. "But if you screw this up, you'd better find a small dark hole in the back corner of the universe and hide there for all eternity because if you betray us I will find you and I will end you. Is that clear?"
"Crystal."