Love Means Living And Dying
Disclaimer: Well, it's Christmas Eve. Who knows? By the time you read this, I might own them. But honestly, the closest I'm expecting is Season Two. I do own my very own phaser, though.
A/N: *Prostrates self* PLEASE DON'T KILL ME! I know it has been forever and a day since I updated and most of you have probably forgotten I even exist by now. I had the worst writers block that I have ever had, but I thought about this story almost every day. I knew exactly where I wanted it to go, and which episode I was going with, but I couldn't figure out how to finagle the ending into what I wanted it to be. Akili—my lame-brain fairy muse—seemed to think it was a good time for extended and involuntary hiatus. But I do SWEAR, no matter how long it takes, barring absolute tragedy, I will not give up on this story.
(Warning: Self-advertising. If any of you are Supernatural fans—and I hope that at least one of you is that cool—I have a short little fic up for the kick-ass Winchester brothers)
This chapter is a special Christmas present for my most exalted JJ—how would I get by without you? This one is yours. And I must also dedicate this to my Anda-nee, who kept kicking me in the pants to finish this chapter. I don't think I could have done it without their ever-forceful support.
Merry Christmas to all of you! And if you don't celebrate Christmas, I hope your holiday is happy!
Much love to anyone who's actually going to read this!
Chapter Six: The Savage Curtain
Space.
The final frontier.
These are voyages of the Starship Enterprise.
Its ongoing mission: To explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life, and new civilizations.
To boldly go where no man has gone before.
Captain's personal log. Our first mission was simple. Go to the edge of the galaxy and take readings, scans—basically, check out whatever might prevent us from intergalactic travel. We encountered an anomaly that gave strange psychic powers to the two people with the highest Esper ratings on the ship: Gary Mitchell, and Elizabeth Dehner. They both died in the line of duty. They are the first casualties of our official mission.
We are on our way back toward the Terran system, waiting for our next assignment. There isn't much to do, and I'm getting bored.
Spock and I are having some issues figuring each other out…"
There's the understatement of the year…
"Captain, he is a danger to the ship. We must incarcerate him before he does more critical damage."
"Spock, he hasn't done anything yet!"
"You are ignoring the critical part of that statement: yet."
"Spock, I am not going to throw him in the brig just because he can read really fast."
"Captain, all evidence and observation suggests the eventual manifestation of more harmful powers."
"You have any proof?"
"I do not have any concrete evidence with which to prove my suspicions to you. However, the tricorder readings indicate that such a progression is logical."
"Well, if you don't have proof, I'm not going to put him in jail."
"Then may I suggest that we at least place him in isolation, under the careful observation of Doctor McCoy and his staff?"
"He hasn't shown any sign of wanting to hurt anybody. He's already confined to Sickbay; I'm not going to cut him off from visitors unless I have to."
"His increasing symptoms of a god-complex are significant enough that it is ninety-seven percent certain that he will soon consider himself above the rest of the crew, and you as well. As such, he may attempt to overtake the ship—"
"I know Gary. He's a good guy, Spock. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt."
"Be that as it may, he is still merely human, and as such, vulnerable to his own ego. This is made all the worse by the fact that he himself does not truly understand his powers."
"'Merely human?' God, Spock, you sure know how to sound condescending. If it were a Vulcan in Gary's place, would you still be telling me to lock him up?"
"It was not my intention to offend you. I must admit that if a Vulcan were to have gained these powers, there would be far less danger. Vulcans have more command of their emotions and bodies than humans, and as such, would have far more control, and the sudden power would not influence their actions as greatly."
"Yeah, well, either way, I'm not going to toss Gary in brig without good, solid evidence. If you have some, I'll be more than happy to consider it."
"Captain, please, consider the psychological evidence—"
"Enough, Mr. Spock."
He and Spock had had one misunderstanding after another, and it felt like their relationship had taken a giant leap backward. The tentative beginnings of friendship, or at least a solid working relationship, had deteriorated into what closely resembled animosity.
They had different ways of thinking, and they communicated ineffectively—enough so to cause difficulties in the running of the ship. Spock was incredibly precise and correcting, which, while occasionally useful, was essentially irritating, and he seemed dead-set on questioning, extensively and thoroughly, the logic behind each decision Jim made.
Jim was, apparently, determined to oversee everything himself, and under the stress, his temper was at a short fuse. Mixed with his pride and his drive to be perfect (to give the Admiralty no reason to complain), he reacted with unnecessary force when Spock questioned his orders. He was apparently resolved to carry the weight of the ship on his shoulders alone.
"But maybe things will get better as we go…"
Jim drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. His chin rested in his other hand.
Sulu yawned. Chekov rubbed his eyes. Uhura was searching the Net for shoes on her PADD. The only one who didn't look bored to death was Spock, and his face was as blank as ever. Jim suspected that Spock could effectively daydream—maybe even fall asleep, who knew?—without his expression ever changing.
For the past week, they had been staring out at black, dead space. The monotony was broken only by the stars, which really just qualified as a different flavor of boredom. Everyone was getting a bit restive.
Finally, Jim couldn't take it anymore. He slammed his palm down onto the armrest. Sulu twitched, Uhura jumped, and Chekov emitted a strange combination of a yelp and a gulp. They all stared at him and his face flushed beet red. Jim threw back his head and began to laugh. Uhura and Sulu joined in, and Chekov began to giggle reluctantly. They laughed for a long time, glad that something had finally happened.
"That was awesome," Jim gasped as they wound down, wiping his eyes.
Sulu turned to his friend and said, "What was that, Pav?"
The Navigator shrugged. "I do not know. It just came out."
Uhura shook her head. "There is no word for that sound. In any language."
"Captain," Spock interjected. "Were you not preparing to speak?"
"Oh, yeah. Thanks Spock," Jim nodded. He addressed everyone on the bridge; "Okay, off-book here: Who's as bored as I am?"
All but Spock thrust their hands into the air. The Captain rolled his eyes at Spock and smiled at everyone else. "Good. Now. It's not dignified, it's not professional, and it would probably give Admiral Barnett a heart attack." The others exchanged nervous glances and Spock looked wary. "That said," he continued, "Who wants to play a game?"
Every hand shot up again, except Spock's. "Great! What do you wanna play? There's Twenty Questions, I Spy…" he trailed off as a chorus went up around the room. "Twenty Questions it is, then. Who wants to go first?"
Chekov raised his hand eagerly, practically bouncing in his seat. Jim indicated the Russian with a lazy wave.
"Are you an animal?" Sulu asked immediately.
Chekov shook his head.
"A mineral?" Uhura chimed in. Another head shake.
It went on until they only had one question left. They looked at each other uncertainly. Chekov looked as though he might burst with glee. "You're the theory of transwarp beaming!" Jim cried, eyes lighting up.
Chekov nodded, amazed. "Aye, Keptin, wery good!"
Sulu stared at Jim. "How the hell did you get that?"
He shrugged. "Lucky guess? Chekov's brilliant, so it had to be something tricky, and he's been picking Scotty's brain about it lately, so…" He shrugged again.
Uhura shook her head in disbelief. "If this wasn't Twenty Questions, I would swear he cheated," she said to Sulu. "As it is, I don't whether to be impressed, suspicious, or afraid."
Sulu lifted his hands. "It's Jim: I'm always a bit of all three."
Jim waved and they turned to him in mild surprise. "Uh, yeah, hi. I'm right here."
They stared at him. "What's your point?" Uhura asked. Jim glared and the other three began to laugh.
"Spock," Jim said, walking to the science station. "Your turn." They fell silent expectantly.
Spock folded his hands. "I thank you, but I have no wish to participate."
"Of course you don't," Jim agreed amiably. "Now pick something."
"Captain, I do not have any desire to join in your activities."
"Yeah, I know," Jim smiled.
"Then why do you insist on behaving as if I shall?"
Jim put a hand on his shoulder. "Spock, you gotta learn to lighten up a little, or no one is going to like you," the blond said seriously.
Spock's brow furrowed. "I assure you, Captain, that whether or not I am 'liked' is not a factor that affects my actions," Spock replied stiffly.
Blue eyes rolled. "Just do it, Spock," he said, irritation creeping into his tone.
"It is juvenile and purposeless," the Vulcan argued.
"But it's fun."
Spock raised a condescending eyebrow. "I do not believe that is relevant."
"Spock," the captain sighed. "Play."
"I will not." He turned back to his scanners.
"Just do it."
"No."
"Spock."
"Captain?" He lifted an eyebrow.
"Consider it an order."
"According to regulation, a captain may not use his authority for anything unrelated to the safe running of the ship, the mission at hand, or the safe handling of the personnel."
Jim's eye twitched. "For Pete's sake! Can't you just relax a little and play a game with your crewmates?"
"I am capable of doing so," Spock conceded. "It is willingness I lack."
"Why?" the captain demanded, frustrated.
"It is not logical."
Jim ground his teeth. "Yeah, but it's not illogical either."
Spock raised his eyebrows coldly. "I disagree."
Inhaling through his nose, Jim placed his fists on his hips. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the bridge crew listening raptly. He thought hard for a moment. "Okay—how 'bout this? Constant work is unhealthy. It's a scientifically proven fact, right?"
Spock nodded once, albeit a tad reluctantly. "It is."
"You never do anything but work. It's not healthy. So playing a round of Twenty Questions will be good for you."
"Your argument disregards the fact that I am Vulcan. The rest I achieve when I am not on duty is sufficient. I am in excellent health. Your concern, however, is appreciated," he added, a hint of sarcasm in his eyes.
"Don't Vulcans ever play?"
Spock pursed his lips. "We are taught games as young children," he admitted. Jim grinned. "However," Jim's face fell slightly, "They are games of logic, math, and strategy. They are intended to educate, not to entertain." The blond scowled. Then his face brightened.
"Well, Twenty Questions is a game of deduction."
The Science Officer hesitated minutely. "Explain," he requested.
"You have to find the answer by elimination, through the questions, and by what you know of the person."
Spock considered that for a long moment, while Jim held his breath. "I accept your premise," he said finally. "I had not considered that point of view." Got him, Jim thought gleefully.
"Does that mean you'll play?"
"I have agreed that there is a certain mental agility required to succeed. I have not acquired any desire to join you."
"Come on," Uhura broke in, batting her eyelashes playfully.
Sulu and Chekov took this as their cue. "Yeah, Mr. Spock, there's nothing wrong with having a bit of fun."
"Please, Mr. Spock," Chekov begged earnestly. "You are so smart, it would make the game wery challenging for us!"
The Vulcan blinked, somewhat startled by suddenly being ganged up on.
Jim smirked. "You're outnumbered."
Spock's left eyebrow went up haughtily. "Unfortunately, this is not a mathematical equation. The numbers do not change the result."
"Fine." Jim turned and marched back to his chair angrily. "Sulu, you go."
They had gotten to question sixteen and everyone was stumped. Jim pressed his lips together in concentration. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. His eyes wandered over the bridge, almost as though he was looking for clues. He stopped at the science station.
"Spock," he said slowly, realization creeping onto his face. "You know, don't you?"
"I believe I have come to the correct conclusion, yes," he acknowledged.
"Well?" the captain demanded eagerly. Everyone was looking at Spock expectantly. "What is it?"
Surprise entered his dark eyes. "You wish me to reveal the answer?" he queried incredulously. They nodded. "Does that not defeat the purpose of your questioning?"
Jim waved a hand impatiently. "We don't know."
"You have four questions left," Spock pointed out.
"We don't even know what to ask," Nyota returned. "Come on, Spock."
He looked at them all curiously before turning to Sulu. "The code of chivalry observed by knights in Earth's Medieval Period."
Sulu raised his eyebrows, impressed. "On the nose," he confirmed.
Spock regarded him confusedly. "I beg your pardon?"
Jim rolled his eyes. "It means you got it right."
The Vulcan's eyebrow twitched upward.
"Come on, Spock," Jim exploded. Spock blinked twice in shock. "Just one round!"
The others took up the chorus.
Spock gave a minute sigh. "Do you plan to continue to harass me until I agree?" he asked with a touch of weariness.
"I do," Jim verified easily.
Spock closed his eyes briefly. "Very well. You may begin."
A huge—almost indecent, Spock thought rather indignantly—grin spread across Jim's face. "Are you an animal?"
"Negative, Captain."
"Plant?"
"No."
"Mineral?" Sulu wanted to know.
"No."
Chekov spoke up. "Manufactured."
"No."
"Drat," the Russian muttered, and Sulu grinned at him.
"It is intangible?" Nyota asked.
"Yes."
"Wait." Jim put up his hands. "Intangible like oxygen, or intangible like the theory of transwarp beaming?"
"I was under the impression the questions are required to be phrased in a correct/incorrect format."
"Yeah, Captain," Uhura taunted. He glowered at her.
"Fine. Is it intangible like the theory of transwarp beaming?"
Spock inclined his head and Jim glared at the hint of amusement he saw in the brown eyes. "It is."
"Okay…" he mused, rubbing his chin. "Intangible like a theory…"
"Is it a theory?" Sulu wondered.
"No."
And it continued on in that vein, until they hit twenty.
"Are you the sound barrier?" asked Jim.
"I am not." There was definite amusement in his eyes now, Jim saw, resisting the urge to stamp his foot. "That is your twentieth inquiry. I believe that means—" How the hell can he smirk like that without moving his face? Jim wondered touchily—"I win."
"What were you?" the blond demanded.
"Thought," said the First simply. Jim blinked foolishly.
"Thought?" he repeated in disbelief.
"Thought."
Jim mulled that over, scowling heavily. "Pointy-eared bastard," he muttered sullenly, flopping back to slouch in his chair.
Spock cocked an eyebrow but offered no reply. "I found that exercise to be surprisingly mentally stimulating," he remarked, hands behind his back. "I may take part in such games more frequently."
The rest of Alpha shift passed pleasantly, with the games ranging from I Spy, to the Alphabet Game, to simple joke-telling. Jim was still laughing as they left the bridge and made their way to the mess hall in a group.
Somehow, the entire command crew ended up sitting together at one table. Usually Spock and Uhura sat off by themselves, occasionally joined by one of the nurses, who had quickly bonded with Nyota. Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov grouped together, and Jim sat with a different table every day in an effort to get to know his crew, and McCoy, wearing his habitual scowl, was never far from Jim's elbow. The doctor seemed to think that if Jim was out of his sight any more than was absolutely necessary, he would somehow trip out of an airlock. Of course, since he himself perpetually seemed on the verge of pushing Jim out of one, no one was one hundred percent sure.
Jim sat between Scotty and McCoy, who had been swept along as the group reached the cafeteria doors.
"Lemme get this straight," McCoy growled. "You spent the entire shift playin' games?" He looked as though he didn't know whether to be amused or indignant.
"Ah've got one question fer ya," Scotty piped up. Jim turned. The engineer stuck out his lip in a pout. "Why didja na invite me?"
Chuckling, Jim slapped his friend on the shoulder. "Her 'ample nacelles' not keeping you busy, Scotty?" he joked.
The Scotsman shrugged and forced out his words around a meatball sub. Since Jim had rescued him from the desolation of Delta Vega, Scotty had been wolfing down every type of sandwich known to man, and few known exclusively to Orions. "She's a fine lady," he insisted. "But things do git a mite slow, at times."
"Well, I'll comm you up next time. And you, too, Bones."
Bones spluttered. "Now, wait a minute—who says I wanna—"
A peal of laughter interrupted him, and they all looked across the table. The Chief Nursing Officer had sat down next to Uhura, and had apparently cracked a joke, because she and Nyota had their heads together in a fit of giggles.
"What's up?" Jim asked as they caught their breath. They glanced toward him and collapsed again.
The captain turned to his friends, but they looked equally bewildered.
"Women," snorted McCoy. "I'll never understand 'em."
Scotty and Jim nodded fervently in agreement.
"I believe, Captain," Spock spoke up, "That you are the source of their amusement."
"What'd I do?"
"Apparently, some members of the crew find you aesthetically attractive," Spock answered indifferently, almost shrugging.
Jim squinted at him. "Y'know something, Spock?" he said finally.
Spock's brow creased. "I know many things, Captain, though I do not understand—" Jim cut him off with an impatient hand gesture.
"No. I mean, only you could make me feel guilty and insulted with the words aesthetically attractive." McCoy gave another snort, shaking his head. Spock looked mildly startled.
"That was not my intention," he replied. "However, it is somewhat concerning that your emotional state is so unstable." Bones and Jim exchanged eyerolls.
"It was sort of a joke, Spock."
"'Sort of', Captain?" An eyebrow arched.
Sigh. "It was more of a comment on how irritating you are than a statement about my emotions," Jim informed him, piling his dishes onto his tray.
"I see." They stood simultaneously, and, after dumping their trays, strode in sync down the corridor.
"Where ya headed?" Jim inquired casually.
"To the deck six gym," was the stoic reply.
"Oh, me too." Jim's tone expressed surprise, and perhaps a hint of pleasure, as well as a bit of discomfort. He himself wasn't quite sure how he felt about it.
"Indeed? How do you intend to exercise?" Spock turned to face the blond as the turbolift rocketed upward.
The captain shrugged. "Not sure yet." His lips pursed in thought.
Spock clasped his hands behind his back as they made their way to the gym.
It took rather longer than it strictly should have, because Jim stopped to greet everyone he passed, and chat with those who wanted to. Every time he bid someone goodbye, and turned to find Spock waiting for him, a minor shock coursed through him.
Spock was curious. Part of him knew that he did not have to wait for Jim. He knew that Jim was surprised by it. Yet, he could not entirely suppress his amazement, because Jim was careful to address each crewmember by name and rank.
Spock saw him struggle briefly with more than one name, but each time, he pulled the correct one from somewhere in his head, and a sort of triumph lit his eyes.
The First Officer observed his captain, and was impressed. Despite Jim's obnoxious and often grating attitude, he was dedicated. To his job. To his duty. To his crew. It only confirmed Spock's initial observation. Jim cared more than he let anyone see. He was trying very hard to get know every person who worked under him. He greeted each with a courtesy that astounded Spock. He had respect for his crew, and he treated them not as a distant superior would, but as a personal friend.
And Spock was impressed. He could not bring himself to walk on, could not tear his eyes away from this display of devotion.
Eventually they turned into the gym and the locker room. They turned their backs to each other as they changed into black workout pants and, in Spock's case, a black muscle shirt.
Silently, they went through warm-up routines before Jim moved to the punching bags, Spock to the mats. Jim lost himself in the rhythms of complex mixed martial arts forms. Spock moved through the traditional forms of the Vulcan martial arts.
Jim rammed the heel of his foot into the bag and fell into a fighting stance. Finished, he still felt restless and tense. His eyes swept the room, searching for something difficult and fast-paced. Nothing. With a sigh, he shifted from foot to foot.
His eyes landed on the Vulcan. He paced over to his First Officer, who was whirling through intricate and alien martial arts moves. "Whatcha doing?" he asked, standing on the edge of the mat. Spock flashed past him, the Vulcan's heel slicing through the air mere inches from Jim's face. The captain flinched.
"It is the Vulcan martial art of Suss Mahn," he replied, never stopping.
"Cool." A pause. "Where did you learn it?"
"In school."
Jim was taken aback. "They taught you that in school?"
"Yes."
"Wow," he laughed. "I wouldn't think Vulcans would teach that kind of thing in school."
"It is a class similar to what you humans refer to as physical education," Spock said, a hint of annoyance in his tone.
"Still—it doesn't seem logical."
"It is quite logical to be in optimal physical condition at all times, as well to be capable of defending one-self, should the need arise."
Yep, definitely a bit pissed off, Jim thought. "What else did you do in Vulcan PE?" he wondered.
"Endurance, flexibility, and strength," he responded shortly. "I would appreciate it if you would allow to me to concentrate."
Jim ignored him. "Did you have any other non-academic classes?"
Finally, Spock came to a stop. "If you insist on remaining, please cease your incessant babbling," he requested firmly.
"Well? Did you have art classes? Home economics?"
Spock stalked up to Jim, eyes flashing in irritation. "Captain, is it not satisfying enough to pester me constantly when we are on duty? Must you continue this harassment even during my personal time?"
Jim's smile disappeared. "Harassment?" he echoed angrily. "Do I bother you that much?"
"You requested my presence here, Jim. Yet, you seem intent on driving me to request a transfer."
Jim laughed again, but there was no humor there now. He put his face up close to Spock's. "Why do you try so hard to be as frustrating as possible?" he retorted. "I can't do a thing without you right there, questioning whether my actions are logical."
"Perhaps if you paused to consider my words, you would not so often need to be reminded."
"If you would just chill out a little! Not everything I do is going to get us killed!"
"You become too emotional, too often. You must learn objectivity. Your emotions cannot be your single guiding force."
"And logic alone can't be effective in command. Some emotion, some intuition—" He broke off, eyes shining strangely. "Spar with me." Jim demanded savagely. He stepped onto the mat and fell into his fighting stance.
Spock blinked, taken aback. "Spar with you?" he repeated, momentarily stymied by this sudden change in direction.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"We can both let our aggression out a little," Jim said. Jimbo, what kinda moron are you? Oh great. Now his inner voice sounded like Bones. That couldn't be a good sign.
"That—would not be wise," Spock rebuked quietly, fists clenching subconsciously.
"Why on Earth not?"
"Have you forgotten the last time we engaged in physical combat?"
"Oh." Jim realized. "Whatever. You were out of control. I really wanna throw some punches at you. Come on."
Spock wavered, and then stepped into his own stance. "Very well. If I begin to injure you—"
"Let's do this," Jim commanded, face set. Spock nodded, body tensing.
They eyed each other for a long moment, intensity and barely contained wrath in their gazes.
Jim attacked, throwing a blurred right hook at Spock's left ear, but Spock was gone, jabbing his fist into Jim's kidney. His breath whooshed out and he doubled over. Spock hesitated for half a second, but it was enough. Jim whirled around and the bridge of his foot connected with the back of Spock's knee, which buckled and he fell heavily to his knees. Jim came at him, arms slamming forward toward Spock's throat and nose, but Spock grabbed Jim's wrists in a movement too fast to see, and stood smoothly, using his leverage to shove Jim back. He exerted pressure on the tanned arms, twisting them behind Jim's back. "Do you admit to defeat?" Spock asked in a low voice. Jim grinned fiercely and levered himself back, writhing, and Spock felt another flash of pain in his leg, matching the one now blooming in his stomach, and Jim wrenched free. He turned to face Spock again.
"Not by a long shot. You?" he answered cockily.
Dropping into their beginning stances, they circled for a long moment, eyeing each other warily. In another blur, Spock's leg lashed out. Jim barely flung an arm out in time to keep from being concussed. As it was, the kick numbed his arm, but he twisted, hooking the arm around his opponent's extended leg and sliding to put his back to Spock's chest, simultaneously driving an elbow into his stomach. Spock grabbed Jim's biceps and tugged, slipping to one side and yanking his leg away. Jim hit the mat and rolled, tangling his feet in Spock's and bringing the Vulcan crashing down as well. Immediately, Jim was on top of him, holding him down.
"You are quicker than I anticipated," Spock observed. Jim grinned.
"Come on, Spock," Jim taunted. "Don't hold out on me."
The First Officer merely said, "Very well," and brought his legs up, braced his shins against Jim's chest, and pushed. Before Jim realized what was happening, he was pinned to the floor, Spock's legs straddling him, feet pressing into his knees. Unusually warm, long-fingered hands were wrapped in an iron grip around his wrists, pinning Jim's arms above his head.
Their chests were heaving with exertion, and sweat glistened on their skin. Jim's hair was tousled, his eyes were dark, and his lips were pulled back in a feral smile. Spock's hair was only slightly mussed, but his eyes were bright and his lips were parted, his breath huffing through them audibly.
Jim nodded in consent, and Spock released Jim at once and rose to his feet. Jim clambered up less gracefully.
"I believe the victory is mine," Spock said, lips twitching.
Jim smiled and laughed. The tension was gone from both of them now. "I guess so. But that was fun. Sort of cathartic, really. We should do it again sometime."
Spock nodded. "I found the exercise satisfying as well. It presents a challenge formerly not present in my exercise routine. I would not be averse to making it a regular occurrence."
"Sounds good," he agreed as they exited the gym. "Now how about—" The wall comm chirped his name. He sighed and held up a finger to Spock before answering. "Kirk here."
"Captain, a small vessel has appeared, directly in our path," the Navigator on duty, a middle-aged man named Jacobs, reported. "It looks like a cargo vessel. However, there are no cargo shuttles scheduled through this sector at this time, and we are receiving no response to our hails."
"I'll be right up. Tell Communications to keep hailing, all frequencies. Try to determine if life support is operational, and see if you can detect life forms. Follow it if it moves away."
"Aye, Captain. Bridge out." The transmission cut, and Jim sighed as he made to contact the rest of the command crew.
He led Spock into the turbolift, and when it opened on their deck, he said, "Throw on a fresh uniform and meet me on the bridge." Spock nodded.
As they were the senior officers, their quarters were the only two on the hall, and they were the largest on the ship. The rooms did adjoin through a shared shower area, but as of yet, neither of them had crossed it. They had worked out a morning routine so that they never walked in on each other accidentally.
He stepped onto the bridge, and glanced around as he sat in his empty chair. Spock was bent over his sensors. Damn, Jim thought. Five hundred years ago he could've been a minute-man for the revolutionaries. Uhura was frowning.
"Uhura?" he asked.
She turned to him, looking vaguely annoyed. "Nothing. No response."
"Spock?"
Spock turned smoothly. "Life support is functional. Four life forms have been detected. Analyzing now." As if on cue, there was a beep from behind him. He checked the results and faced Jim again. "Human, Captain."
"Is it an Earth ship?" Jim asked, rising and moving to Spock.
"Difficult to say, sir. I'm getting no registration from it."
The comm chirped and Jim strode back to the captain's chair, though he didn't sit. "What do you have for me, Scotty?"
"He'll soon overload his engines, sir," Scotty replied.
"I agree. He is pushing his ship too hard," Spock added.
"He knows we're after him," Sulu said. "He's changing course again."
"Stay with him."
Spock spoke up. "Captain, we are approaching an asteroid belt."
"Deflector shields up, Chekov. Stay with him, Sulu. He'll probably try to lose us in the belt."
"I have a sensor reading on the vessel," Spock announced. "It is a small class J cargo ship. And his engines are superheating."
Jim turned to Uhura. "Warn that other Captain. If he loses power while in the asteroid belt—"
"Too late, sir!" Chekov exclaimed. "Unless we put a deflector screen around him, he will be smashed."
"If we do, our own engines shall overload," Spock stated coolly.
Jim thought for a moment. "Put a screen around him, Chekov. Scotty, ready in the transporter room. I want that crew beamed aboard as soon as you can get a lock."
"I'we got him, sir, but the screen won't hold for long."
"We are starting to overload. Engine temperature rising."
Jim said nothing.
"Cap'n, the engines are reaching the danger zone," Scotty reported, sounding impatient.
"Our deflector screen is weakening," Chekov added.
"I'll get you something, Scotty. Lieutenant Uhura, tell him we're screening him but it won't hold for long. Tell him we have to beam him aboard now."
"Yes, sir." She put the receiver into her ear and began twisting her dials.
"Asteroid approaching, Captain," Spock said. "On a direct course for the cargo ship. Impact in two minutes." He turned to face the captain. "Our shields won't survive the collision, sir."
"Uhura?"
She shook her head. "Nothing yet, sir, relaying on all frequencies."
Suddenly, the bridge lights flickered. "One of our dilithium crystals, sir!" Sulu called out.
"Mr. Scott!" Jim yelled.
"Sir!" Uhura cried, standing. "I'm getting a hail!"
"Scotty?!"
"Ah've got it, Cap'n. Locking on."
"Thirty seconds," Spock interjected.
The lights flickered again. "Another crystal," stated Sulu grimly.
"Have you got them, Mr. Scott?" Jim demanded.
"One, Captain. Locked onto three others, and transporting now."
"Ten seconds to impact."
The lights fluttered once more, and everyone on the bridge waited with bated breath.
"Three…two…"
The asteroid slammed into the cargo ship, which exploded in pyrotechnic light show.
Silence.
"And we are out of the asteroid belt, Captain," said Spock.
"Screens down," Jim ordered quietly. "Mr. Scott, do you have the crew?" He was met with more silence. "Mr. Scott?" Nothing. Jim cast a worried glance at Spock, who merely raised his eyebrows in return. "Scotty!"
"A-aye, Cap'n," came the shaky reply. Jim flopped back in relief. "I've got 'em."
"If they can walk, send them to my ready room. Correction—" he said icily, turning back. "I want them there whether they can walk or not." Turning, he jerked his head at the Science Officer. "Spock." Wordlessly, Spock rose and followed him into the turbolift.
When they reached his ready room, he ruffled through the stacks on his surprisingly organized desk and came up with a PADD. The door whooshed open, but Jim didn't turn.
"Cap'n," Scotty said. Jim looked up sharply at the strange tone in his engineer's voice. A moment later, his jaw dropped as three…entrancing…women, in borderline-indecent dresses, slinked through his door. At the very least, Jim thought numbly, indecently sparkly. He closed his mouth with effort and gulped, hard.
Somewhat helplessly, he looked to Spock, who merely stared back expressionlessly, but Jim could swear he saw a hint of amusement in those dark eyes. His irritation broke through the momentary—confusion, and he turned back to the women, setting his jaw. For the first time, he noticed the man that stood with them. He blinked. If the women were stunningly beautiful, the man accompanying them was stunningly ridiculous. He was pot-bellied and chubby-cheeked, and he was sporting a ludicrous mustache. His fashion sense left everything to be desired; he was wearing a puffy coral shirt, blue pants, a cowboy hat, and a long, dangly earring. He had an entirely too-jovial smile, and his eyes were shifty.
When he spoke, his Irish accent was as thick and preposterous as his mustache. "Leo Walsh, at your service," he announced, teeth flashing in a way that struck Jim as distinctly suspicious. Or maybe it was the man himself, whom Jim found suspicious, not the teeth. Hell, maybe it was both. Either way, Jim knew that the metaphorical alarm bells were ringing madly in his head.
Jim did not smile back. "I am Captain James Kirk," he replied authoritatively. "Is this your crew?" His gaze shifted briefly to the women, all of whom were giving him sultry come-hither looks.
"Eh, no, Captain," Walsh said. "This—is me cargo."
Jim and Spock exchanged startled glances.
"Captain, we must take this man into custody," Spock advised. He and Jim were alone in the ready room. Walsh and the women had been confined to quarters, two security guards posted inside the room.
"Not yet," Jim said as he tossed a small rubber ball into the air, reclining in his desk chair.
"Surely you do not—"
Jim caught the ball and sat up straight. "No, no, I totally agree that he ought to be locked up," he assured. "Something about him sends up all the wrong flags."
"Then why-"
"Frankly, Spock, as slimy as the guy is, I don't think the full force of the brig is necessary to contain him. He's more…con-artist, than terrorist. And he might be more cooperative at the hearing if he isn't sore from being tossed in prison."
Spock raised his eyebrows. "That is logical, Captain," he approved, sounding a tiny bit impressed.
"Gee, Spock, don't sound so surprised," Jim pouted. "It hurts my feelings."
An unimpressed eyebrow went up. Jim chuckled in response.
"There is another serious matter that must be addressed immediately."
"Shoot," said Jim, leaning back languidly, but adopting an intent expression.
He got a slight twitch of the eyebrow for the idiom, but otherwise, the First Officer declined to comment. "Our dilithium crystals, sir. I have spoken with Mr. Scott; we have only one crystal remaining, and even that is cracked. It won't last, sir. Not with all our power being channeled through it."
"Jim, Spock, it's Jim. I take it you already have a solution in mind?" He raised his eyebrows with a half-smile.
"There is a lithium mining operation on Rigel XII," he said in answer. "High grade ore, I've heard."
"Sounds swell," the captain replied smiling cockily.
"Your turns of phrase are most illogical," Spock remarked, brow furrowing.
The blond snorted. "Do you realize that 'turn of phrase' is actually a turn of phrase?" he inquired sarcastically. The Science Officer raised an eyebrow.
"Indeed."
"Then, if they're so illogical—" Jim clutched a hand to his chest in theatric horror "—why do you use them, O Quintessence of All Things Logical, Mathematical, and Statistical?"
Both of the diagonal brows arched upward. "Perhaps it is an unfortunate consequence of remaining in the presence of one so illogical as you, Captain."
Jim sat back, startled, and then laughed loudly.
Spock's mouth twitched slightly and the right brow rose a fraction of an inch. Jim's laughter faded, and he shook his head at the Vulcan. There was a moment of not-uncomfortable silence.
"And the women, Captain?" Spock asked, returning to business.
Jim sighed and tossed the ball up. "Yes, the women…What about them, Mr. Spock?"
"They have already escaped from the quarters we assigned them, and they now wander about the ship."
"They have a strange effect on the men," the captain mused. "Almost hypnotic. That must be how they got out. The guards just let them go…"
"Yes," the Vulcan agreed. "It is almost as if they were releasing the same pheromones as an Orion."
Jim shot up. "They aren't, are they?"
He shook his head. "None that I can detect. However, I believe it would be prudent to have Doctor McCoy examine them."
"Good idea. Okay," Jim said, standing in one swift motion. "We both need showers, so we'll do that and then we'll round up the women. After the good doctor gives them a check-up, we can go ahead with the hearing. Sound like a plan?"
"It seems acceptable."
"I'll use the gym showers, so you go ahead and use ours."
"Thank you, Captain."
"It's Jim, Spock."
An eyebrow went up.
Jim threw a towel around his neck on his way out of the locker room. He headed back to his room to grab a snack before going to hunt for the three women. His door swooped open and he tossed his towel in the laundry chute and turned to the replicator.
"Wha—?!" he yelped, jumping. The figure on his bed sat up slowly.
"I hope you don't mind, Captain," the blond in the glittery pink dress said in a low, sensual voice.
Jim tried to calm his heart, which was thudding erratically, though whether from fright or the beautiful woman before him, he didn't know. He thought it was probably the fright, since even to his mind, a woman whose name he didn't know lying in wait on his bed was slutty. Not to mention creepy.
"As a matter of fact, I do!" he snapped.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, batting her eyelashes demurely. "I had to get away. Your men…I could feel them watching me…following me with their eyes. I had to escape from it. I just ran into the first place I could."
Well, maybe if you didn't wear a sparkly, low-cut dress and give everyone those bedroom eyes, he thought in annoyance. Out loud, he merely said, "Yes, I'll have to talk to them about that."
"I suppose it's loneliness. I can understand loneliness," she continued, getting up and walking (read: slinking, he thought) toward him. Her eyes met his. "But it must be even worse for you," she said softly. "A ship's captain…" She reached out a hand and traced a pattern on his chest.
"Miss…" He tried to retreat but his back hit a wall.
"So much…responsibility." Her arms looped around his neck and she smiled flirtatiously. "I read once that a captain is supposed to be a paragon of virtue, I never met a paragon."
Jim couldn't help but smile back slightly at that. "Neither have I."
"Of course not, none of us are," she said sensibly. "But some of us try to be," she added, looking up at him.
He reached up and unlatched her arms, sliding away. "Miss…" he started again.
"Evie," she supplied. "Evie McHuron."
"Miss McHuron," repeated a cultured voice. Jim whipped his head around and felt a twinge of relief at seeing Spock standing there, hands behind his back, as cool and clear-headed as ever. "You were confined to quarters. Furthermore, even a passenger not subject to confinement is strictly prohibited from entering personal quarters without direct invitation from the crewmember to whom those quarters are assigned. That you have entered the Captain's quarters uninvited is all the more egregious."
Evie blinked. "I—What?" she asked, flummoxed.
"He said, 'you weren't supposed to leave your quarters, coming into anyone else's is a no-no, and coming into mine is a big no-no," Jim rattled off. "In other words…Bad girl." Spock cocked an eyebrow.
"Oh." She smiled, and then frowned at Spock. "I wasn't doing any harm."
Both of Spock's eyebrows shot up. "That does not change the fact that you have taken advantage of the Captain's hospitality." Turning his back on Evie, who was mouthing wordlessly, he faced the captain. "My apologies; I also should not have entered your quarters uninvited. However, I overheard part of your conversation and concluded that my interruption would not be unwelcome." His eyes twinkled and Jim smiled slightly in response.
"No," he replied. "It wasn't. Don't worry about it, Mr. Spock."
"I am Vulcan," he said. "I am not capable of worry." He wiped a droplet of water off of his cheek and for the first time Jim processed exactly what he was seeing. Spock was still damp from his shower and he was wearing only his trousers. Looking down, Jim saw his feet, toenails tinged slightly green around the edges, sinking into the carpet. The blue-eyed man did not even try to restrain his grin. For some reason, Spock's bare feet seemed to remove his dignity far more than his bare chest.
Jim turned back to Evie, grin dissolving. "Miss McHuron, do you know where the other women are?"
She nodded. "They're probably back in our quarters by now."
"Lovely," said Jim. He grabbed her by the elbow and nodded to Spock. "Meet me in the conference room with the others who need to be at the hearing.
"Yes, Captain." Spock went to the bathroom door and through to his own quarters.
Jim led Evie out of his quarters and down the hall. In the turbolift, she gently tugged her arm out of his grasp.
"I'm not going to run from you, Captain," she murmured. He spared her a glance before setting off again, at a pace that had her trotting to keep up.
At the quarters given to Walsh and the women, the captain scolded the security guards for letting the women out, and then had them escort the 'guests' to the conference room.
Entering the conference room, he nodded to Spock who responded in kind, and ordered the guards to stand by the door. He sat next to Spock, directly across from Walsh. Jim fixed his eyes on Walsh, staring at him intently. Walsh gave an awkward chuckle and avoided meeting Jim's eyes, but Jim kept his gaze locked on the mustachioed man's face, trying to unnerve him. It was working; he was sweating slightly, though he kept his unconvincing innocent smile plastered to his face.
It didn't take long to find out that Leo Walsh's name was not, in fact, Leo Walsh. Well, duh, Jim thought. 'Walsh' protested, but Spock didn't give an inch, and—Jim noted with certain sadistic satisfaction—appeared just as fed up with this con man as Jim was. His real name, they found, was Harcourt 'Harry' Fenton Mudd. No wonder he gave a fake one.
The more startling information they managed to wring out of him was that his "business", as it were, was 'wiv-ing settlers'. Providing wives for lonely settlers. Jim's disgust grew with every word (now unaccented) that oozed out of the slimy creep in front of him.
"Mr. Spock, run his background and credentials," he ordered.
"Aye, Captain." The computer whirred softly. It beeped and began reeling off the particulars of a long and not-very-glorious criminal history.
"Well. It looks like we have inadvertently done a great public service by following that cargo ship, wouldn't you agree, Science Officer?" the captain asked drolly, leaning and drumming his fingers on the table. Neither of the commanding officers took their eyes off the extremely jumpy man before them.
"I would indeed, Captain," Spock replied.
"Now, gentlemen," Mudd laughed anxiously. "Surely you aren't going to take the word of that soulless hunk of metal over that of a real, flesh-and-blood man?"
Both regarded him expressionlessly. He began to sweat profusely. "Mr. Mudd, you do not have the license required to pilot or captain a ship." Spock's voice was absolutely devoid of emotion.
Mudd leaned forward. "Yes, in fact I do—"
"Incorrect," the computer chirped. "License revoked for illegal trafficking of non-tradable substances."
Mudd gritted his teeth and muttered curses.
"We are going to stop at Rigel XII to replace the dilithium crystals we lost chasing your ship," Jim informed him icily. "After our repairs are completed we will bring you back to a Federal base to stand trial."
"On what grounds, Captain?!" Mudd cried.
"Ignoring hail from a Federation vessel, resisting capture, causing damage to a starship, illegally piloting and captaining what I am sure was a stolen vessel, for starters," Jim recited grimly. "I'm sure Mr. Spock and I can find plenty more when we examine your files a little more closely."
"Breaking parole, Captain," Spock spoke up then, augmenting Jim's threat. Jim raised his eyebrows at Mudd condescendingly. Mudd gulped, sitting back, and Jim turned, giving Spock a tiny nod and a shadow of a smile. Spock returned the nod.
All business, Jim turned his gaze impassively on the women, all of whom were attempting to look alluring. If you weren't trying so hard, you might actually get somewhere, he wanted to say. "And you are?"
Mudd jumped in again. "This is Ruthie, Manda, and Evie," he rushed. "Aren't they lovely?"
"We've met," Evie said softly, eyes on the captain. "Haven't we, Captain?" This time, Jim could not help rolling his eyes or the small huff that escaped his lips. He turned away from her and looked to Spock again. Relieved, he noted that the Vulcan too appeared exasperated by the woman's persistence. Their eyes met, and for once, they shared a moment of complete understanding.
"Mr. Spock, data on witnesses?"
"One moment, Captain."
"No data," the computer reported.
"Computer, go to sensor probe. Any unusual readings?"
"No decipherable reading on females. However, unusual readings on male board members." Jim shot a fleeting look down the table at McCoy, Scotty, and Hanson. "Detecting high respiration patterns. Perspiration rates up. Heartbeat rapid. Blood pressure higher than normal."
"That's sufficient," Jim said quickly, cursing mentally. Damn it all to hell, Bones! He glared furiously at the men, all of whom were looking extremely uncomfortable, and glanced at Mudd, who had a shadow of his smirk back. Jim cast an aggrieved glance at Spock, whose eyebrows were raised slightly with disapproval, and amusement. "Strike that from the record, Mr. Spock," he said quietly. Spock raised his eyebrows further as he complied, as if to say, 'I should certainly hope so.'
"D'you see, gentlemen?" Mudd said with his old swagger. "Three lovely ladies, destined for frontier planets. To be the companions of lonely men. To supply that warmth of a human touch that's so desperately needed. A wife, a home, a family." He clasped his hands on the table, taking on a serious expression. "Gentlemen. I look upon this work as a sacred public trust. I've devoted me whole life to it." He sighed for effect.
Unfortunately, the computer stole it back doubly by piping up with, "Incorrect."
His eyes shifted. "Well, I'm about to start devoting my entire life to it!" he said hotly to the computer, and Jim had to stifle a laugh at the man's obvious frustration.
From there, Jim found out that the women came from planets populated only by women, or their own families. That they came voluntarily. After Evie's little display in his bedroom, that wasn't particularly shocking. He was shocked when he found that the women not only didn't mind being sold to men they had never met, they were desperate for it. "Please, Captain!" Evie cried. "There are men willing to marry us, and you're taking us in the wrong direction. Staring at us like we were—"
"That's enough, Evie," Mudd said sharply, with a false smile that did nothing to soften the command.
Jim resisted the urge to rub his temples. Really, he thought in irritation, you would think women of the twenty-third century would have a little more self-esteem.
"The only charges are against Mr. Mudd," Jim replied tiredly. "Do you have any defense to offer?" he asked of the man.
"Only Heaven's own truth," Mudd said in a self-righteous tone. "Which I have just given you."
This is the twenty-third century, Jim thought again incredulously. He can't really believe that one will work.
The captain again glanced briefly at the First Officer, who looked just as condescending of the statement as Jim felt.
"This hearing is closed," he announced. "Mr. Mudd is to be handed over to the legal authorities at our earliest opportunity."
The crewmembers rose and filed out. Kirk, however, turned at a tug on his shirt. "And what happens to us?" Evie demanded. "Help us, please, all of us!" She shook Jim slightly by the shoulders pleadingly, but he grabbed her wrists.
"Miss McHuron—"
At that moment the lights flickered and everyone froze.
Scotty walked back through the doors, grim-faced. "The last crystal's gone, sir."
"Captain," Sulu's voice rang from the comm. "Engineering reports that our entire life support system is now on batteries, sir."
DAMNit! Jim cursed, brain speeding. Thank goodness we still carry those archaic things!
"Mr. Spock—" But Evie was still clutching at him, saying "Please."
"Miss McHuron—Mr. Spock, please have someone contact the miners on Rigel XII," he ordered, backing away and detaching himself with effort from the desperate woman. "Tell them we'll need the crystals immediately upon arrival."
"Yes, sir," Spock replied as they paced quickly down the hall to the lift where he relayed these orders to the bridge. From there, they headed to their quarters.
"There's no point in locking up the women," Jim reasoned, speaking quickly for no reason, Spock could determine, other than that his mind was working rapidly as well.
"Agreed, Captain."
"Jim. They'd just get out; they seem to have a magnetic affect on the crewmen."
"But we can isolate Mr. Mudd. He does seem to be the only one with malevolent intentions."
Jim nodded as they entered his quarters. "Agreed."
Spock sat at the table in the kitchen with Jim. The Vulcan pulled a smoky gray stone, uncut, with a large crack spiraling through it, from his pocket. He turned it over in his fingers. "Even cracked and burned, they're beautiful," he remarked.
"Well, Mr. Spock!" Jim teased. "I didn't know that Vulcan brain of yours could appreciate the finer things."
"On the contrary, Captain. Vulcans have a great appreciation for beauty."
Jim smile. "Nonetheless. It was another man's ship, or the crystal. I'd do it again."
"I do not disagree with that assessment of priority. However, we may have saved ourselves quite a bit of time and, on your part, exasperation, had we chosen the other. In this particular instance."
Jim chuckled. "I can't help but agree. He's a pain in the ass." Spock tucked the crystal away and Jim rose.
"You want some tea?"
Surprised, the Vulcan nodded. "That would be welcome."
"I don't suppose you need the headache meds, though?" he asked, shaking the bottle with a smile.
"Vulcans learn at an early age to suppress and erase pain," Spock answered. He started when the cup was set in front of him. "Captain, this is Vulcan tea," he said in astonishment.
"Yeah," Jim looked at the tabletop as he sat. "I loved that stuff you made me, so I found out what it is and tricked the replicator into making it for me. It's not as good as the real thing, but I haven't had the time to make the replicators make me a stove, or a hot-plate yet. Being a captain is time-consuming." He smiled and raised his mug. "And it's Jim, Spock."
"As I have said, it would not be appropriate—"
"We are off-duty, Spock. I can't believe I have to twist your arm to get you to do something as simple as call me by my first name when we're not even doing anything official. We're in my quarters drinking tea, for Pete's sake. That's about as unofficial as it gets."
There was a pause. "I will endeavor to acquiesce to your request in the future…Jim."
Jim smiled. "Was that really so hard?"
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I do not understand why you are so insistent upon this. It seems highly unorthodox."
Inhaling sharply, and letting it out again, the Iowan rolled his eyes. "On Earth, Spock, friends call each other by their first names."
"This is a familiar practice on Vulcan as well. It conveys trust and intimacy. I did not realize we were, as you say, friends."
Jim couldn't help but laugh. "But I want us to be friends, Spock. How's that gonna happen if you can't relax around me enough to call me Jim?"
Spock cocked his head thoughtfully. "I see. Why are you so adamant on developing a personal relationship?"
Jim shook his head. It was his turn to look pensive. "I don't know, Spock. I just think you're interesting and I'd like to get to know you. Isn't that enough?"
"I suppose it is...Jim."
"Well, then." Jim smiled and took a big gulp of tea.
Upon reaching Rigel XII and beaming up the head miner and one of his partners, they discovered, to their displeasure, that one of the women had swiped a communicator off a crewmember, and that Mudd had contacted the planet. The miners, three men who had been at it for several years, refused to give up the crystals for anything other than Mudd's women. You freaking Neanderthal bastard, he thought furiously. But the women were pleading to go and he couldn't very well keep them aboard unless he wanted to press charges. So he had no choice but to agree. After transporting the women down, they went back to a cabin, and the men put on some music.
Jim, beginning to feel the desperation of his dying ship, demanded that the head miner, Childress, give him the crystals now that he had what he wanted. Childress brushed off his command and tried to flirt with Evie, who, despite being the most insistent about getting a husband, was in a bad mood. When she did not respond to the man's advances, he cut in on Ruth and his friend, who were dancing. "Hey!" the other man protested. He punched his partner, and the third man jumped in to pull them apart.
Evie ran from the cabin, yelling, "Why don't you hold a raffle and the loser can have me?!" Jim didn't understand her attitude, but pulled the miners and some crewmen together for a search party when Evie was not found in the immediate vicinity. The wind started to pick up.
Childress, who was his search partner (Jim wasn't happy about it, but someone had to keep an eye on the jerk) called, "There's a wind storm coming! Anyone who's not undercover won't have much chance!" Reluctantly, Jim pulled out his communicator.
"Crewmen, the locals say a storm's coming. Get back up to the ship and we'll continue the search when the winds die down." Only after receiving an "Aye, sir," from each team did he comm Spock, who was using the ship's sensors to sweep the planet.
"Keep working the scanners, Mr. Spock. I'm ready to beam up."
"Yes, Captain."
"Childress, will you—?"
"My house isn't far, Captain, I'll make it in plenty of time."
"Very well. Beam me up."
The familiar tingle surrounded him, and he found himself back on the Enterprise, windswept and grimy, but otherwise unscathed. He went straight to the bridge. "Mr. Spock."
Spock spun in his chair. "Captain, the storm seems to be interfering with our scanners. I can detect nothing from the planet below and our transporter will be blocked if we attempt to beam anyone up."
"Crew safe?"
"You were the last to beam up, Captain."
Jim closed his eyes briefly in relief. "And the ones on planet?"
"All but Childress and Miss McHuron were located within dwellings prior to sensor failure."
"They're on their own now," Jim stated grimly.
"Indeed, Captain."
Four hours later, the ship was down to three-quarters of an hour of battery power, and the winds were beginning to die. The Captain, dragging Mudd along with him, beamed down outside of Childress's house, where the scanners had detected two life signs. As they approached, they heard loud yelling from within. Jim, in no mood at all for pleasantries, shoved open to door to be met with abrupt silence. Childress and Evie (who looked rather haggard) stared at him.
"I didn't touch her," Childress said immediately. Jim wanted to sneer at him. A captain's supposed to have dignity…a captain's supposed to have dignity…he repeated to himself, praying that they could soon move on from this daunting episode.
"Thank Heaven you found her," Mudd said genially.
"Yeah, she's been bubbling with gratitude ever since," the miner replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. Evie looked up expressionlessly.
"Tell him," Jim ordered suddenly as Mudd and Childress sat down. "Tell him, Harry."
"Ah." Mudd shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. Well—"
"The Venus drugs, Harry."
Childress perked up, and said he'd heard of it. "But only in stories."
"It exists," Jim assured him, casting a nasty glance at Mudd. "Illegally."
"It's actually harmless—" Mudd began.
"Harmless?" Evie repeated, for the first time showing emotion. Her voice was tinged with anger.
"It gives you more of whatever you have," Mudd explained. Jim planted his fists on the table, leaning over them imposingly to hurry the confession along. "For men it's muscles, for women it's femininity."
"He gave it to the women before you met them," Jim revealed impatiently.
Childress looked at Evie in fascination and disgust. "Does that mean others really look like she does?" Jim was really tempted to hit the man for being such an ass—Evie was right there, after all.
"Mr. Childress, I—" Mudd hedged.
"Is that what it means?" the miner said loudly.
"Yes, that's what it means!" Evie answered in annoyance.
"What about my partners?" he asked.
Jim answered this. "They left for their quarters during the storm. They're married—subspace radio marriage." This whole thing is just bullshit, he thought angrily.
Childress lunged at Mudd, but Jim pulled him off. "It was a fraud. They can get out of it, if they want."
"Why—" Childress growled, scowling at Evie.
"You can't blame the women!" Mudd panicked, trying desperately to salvage his deal. A fruitless endeavor, as he was headed straight for a Federal penitentiary when they got the crystals.
"I can," Childress retorted. "A man goes out and fights, we all almost died, and now we've got the good life in our hands, you bring us women for wives that—"
"You don't want wives, you want this!" Evie cried, grabbing the Venus pills and holding them under his nose. "I hope you remember it and dream about it, because you can't have it." Jim thought his eyes might very well pop out from how much they'd been rolling over the last few minutes. "It's not real!"
And then, for some reason that Jim could not fathom—she was just getting a backbone—she spun and tossed back the pills, and when she turned again, she was once again a beauty, smile sultry and eyes smoldering. "Is this the kind of wife you want, Ben? Not someone to help you, someone to cook, and sew, and cry, and need. This kind. Selfish, vain, useless." She slid into his lap. "Is this what you really want? All right then, here it is."
Jim smiled despite himself. "Quite a women, eh, Childress?" he said, approving of the new, self-valuing Evie.
"But fake," Childress said. "Pumped up by a drug."
Jim shook his head. "By herself. There was no drug."
"I took it!" she said defensively.
"That was colored gelatin."
Evie looked sharply at Mudd, who said, with a look of distaste, "Yes, they took away my drug and substituted that."
"But that can't be," she replied.
"There's only one kind of woman," Jim said.
"Or man, for that matter," Mudd cut in, and for once, Jim didn't glare at him.
"You either believe in yourself, or you don't. And now, Miss McHuron, you are the former. All right, Childress," he said, tone changing to demand and authority. "I've had enough of you trying to toy with us. I'll have those dilithium crystals, now!" he pulled out a communicator. "Enterprise, this is Captain Kirk."
"Spock here, Captain."
"Stand by."
He looked expectantly at Childress. "Should I beam down a search party?"
"No. Uh, I'll give you the crystals. You're welcome to them."
"Stand by, Mr. Spock; we're coming aboard—with the crystals this time."
"How many coming, Captain?" The captain stared at Childress and Evie.
"Eve'll stay," the man said instantly. Does she get a say in that? He wondered. "We want to talk."
Jim, though, looked to Evie for consent. She sighed at him. "You've got someone up there…called the Enterprise."
Oooo-kay, Jim thought confusedly. Whatever that means. "Just the two of us, Mr. Spock. Evie is staying." He collected the crystals from Childress and shoved Mudd roughly out the door.
As they prepared to depart, Mudd asked, "Could you possibly, by accident, arrange to leave me here? On this planet, isn't that punishment enough?"
"I can't do that, Harry," Jim said, in a friendly tone. His look changed to that of someone having an epiphany, and he continued earnestly; "But I will appear as a character witness at your trial. If you think that'll help."
Mudd looked at the Captain as though realizing a true evil. "They'll throw away the key," he said in horrified awe.
Jim couldn't contain his smirk as they were caught in the transporter beam.
Two days later, they dropped Mudd off at a starbase, and to the person in charge of Mudd's new cell block, Jim muttered, "Your problem now…poor bastard," giving the frightened-looking man a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before departing.
When he returned to the ship, he headed immediately for the mess hall and enjoyed dinner with his command crew, something that was fast becoming a regular occurrence. As they went their separate ways for the evening, Jim found himself once again in step with the Vulcan. "Hey, Spock," he said thoughtfully.
"Yes, Captain?"
"Jim. Do you play chess, by any chance?" Amazement crossed the impassive face.
"I do. I programmed this ship's computers for it myself. Why do you ask?"
"Would you like to play? I haven't had a decent chess partner in a long time." Jim smiled persuasively.
Spock hesitated. "I…believe that would be acceptable."
"Great."
Settled in with two cups of tea and a three-dimensional chess board, Jim assessed his opponent. "You can be white," he said. Surprise flickered in the dark eyes, but Spock merely nodded and moved a piece up a level. Jim pursed his lips and retaliated. There was silence at first, but as the game continued, they began to talk about Mudd and the havoc he had wreaked. "Two days, but it felt like forever," Jim sighed.
"I must concur," Spock said evenly. "His was a very disruptive presence."
"That's the understatement of the year."
Expecting a rebuttal for the illogicality of the statement, Jim looked up. Spock merely shrugged slightly in a way that conveyed agreement.
Jim snickered. "Well, we handled him. I thought it was particularly inspiring when you nerve-pinched him this morning."
"Thank you, Captain."
"It's Jim. And the nerve-pinch thing is funny when it isn't happening to me. You'll have to teach it to me someday."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "It is very difficult for a human to master. It requires precision that your species lacks."
Jim raised his own eyebrows and flashed a grin. "You forget—I'm Jim Kirk. That means I'm bad-ass."
Spock looked about to reply, but instead regarded the board coolly and said, "Checkmate."
"What?" Jim scowled at the board as Spock plucked up his king. "Well, at least you'll keep me humble, eh, Spock?" Jim finally said sardonically.
Spock lifted his eyes to the captain. "I am exceptional, Captain," he said. "But even I cannot accomplish the impossible."
There was a pause as his words sunk in.
"Sp—Spock," Jim stuttered weakly. "Did you just—" It hit him, and he threw back his head, roaring with laughter. "You just made a joke!"
One black brow rose. "I assure you, I did no such thing."
"You did!" he crowed. "I knew it!"
"What did you know?"
Jim smiled triumphantly. "I knew you had a sense of humor! How very human!"
The eyebrow rose higher over a dancing brown eye. "I see no need for you to insult me, Jim."
Jim's grin widened.
A/N: I hope you guys still with me get everything you asked for for Christmas, or Hanukkah, or whatever you celebrate. If you leave a review, you will make this the best Christmas of my life! I promise that it won't be so long between chaps this time. Assuming I can finish this stupid project for my Bio teacher…
If you guys see any weird errors, please tell me, because this computer is a BITCH. I just spent fifteen minutes trying to undo the fact that every instance of the word 'Spock' had, for some unfathomable reason, been replaced with 'I'. And no, I never told it to do that.
Love you guys!
And Happy New Year!
EDIT 5/25/13: I realize that for those of you who have read the Countdown to Darkness graphic novel, this is a bit un-canon. Sorry, but I couldn't cut a whole chapter. I did try to make some minor changes to make it a little more in keeping with the Darkness verse.