Here we go... This chapter is from Uhura's POV, which I'm kind of worried about. Hopefully I didn't make her too weak. Anyway enjoy and please review!


The inside of the city was horrible.

They had reached the perimeter with no problem, and a group was waiting for them as Kabul had promised in their communication.

The streets were relatively deserted, save for the soldiers under Kabul's command and several survivors running from place to place. Several faces stared at them through windows as they passed.

Nyota fought the urge to gasp and bring a hand to her face when they reached the second block. Several dead bodies were decomposing on the side of the street, bugs fluttering around them. The takeover had obviously not been peaceful. She swallowed roughly, and looked around at the rest of the group. Unders looked green, and Little also looked like he was fighting the urge to lose his lunch. McCoy was looking around stony faced, only his eyes reflecting the horror he saw. Jim only stared at the bodies impassively for a moment, and then looked up again, motioning for their guard to keep moving.

The Central Palace was located in the center of the city, with gleaming white walls despite the ash swirling around it. Dark revolution flags were hanging over the usual red and yellow ones. The building was surrounded with even more guards. However, the inside of the building looked just as pristine as it would have when the city was under government control. That is, except for the throne that had been pushed to the ground and the bullet holes in several of the walls. It looked like the resistance didn't have the technology for phasers, and were using old-fashioned guns.

As they entered a back room, a man wearing a horrible satin gown stood up from his chair and gave them a small smile.

"Captain Kirk!" He greeted, spreading his arms wide. "Starfleet has come to us at last." With this comment came the noise of what sounded like someone holding something over their mouth while they screamed. Startled, Uhura looked around, her phaser drawn in front of her. The noise was coming from another corner of the room where a man was tied and gagged to a chair. Four guards stood around him. Kabul smiled wider. "Don't mind him; he's harmless."

"Kabul!" Kirk growled. "You told us you wouldn't harm him!"

"And he's perfectly unhurt. I don't play with my food, Captain."

Stunned, Nyota turned back to the man tied up in the chair. It must have been the king! She stepped closer to Jim, her heart beating loudly in her chest.

"You've really got something going here, don't you?" Jim asked, scowling. "How did you get this many people to join your crack haired scheme?"

"Now, now, Kirk, you cannot attribute all of this to me. I had help."

"Why would you admit that?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Kabul countered, his eyes glinting darkly. "Now you know there's one more person you should be concerned about."

"And who is this helper?" Jim asked.

"He'll show himself eventually," the resistance leader assured him. "Now, if you'll walk with me over to King Draken, I'd like to explain a few things to you."

The group followed cautiously. Nyota noted that Jim seemed to be checking over his shoulder every other moment now.

As they approached the King, the guards moved themselves away. Kabul placed a hand on Draken's shoulder, and the older man flinched violently, moaning from underneath his gag.

"You're right, Captain Kirk," Kabul began, "we do have a strong resistance. But for good reason." He paused. "I've worked hard all my life, as my father did before me, and his father before them. But all my family has ever managed to achieve is the development of a single farm outside of the city.

"Five years ago, there was a terrible famine here. All of our crops died, as did both of my parents. I lost all of my money, and my farm. But even as I lived on the streets of the capital, I was reassured. The king," he paused, shifting his hold on Draken's shoulder. "Had promised us that we would be protected, and that he would help us.

"But he never helped us. He sat in his palace and ate the fruits of our labors. So I helped myself, as did everyone else who supports me. We saw our chance for change and took it." He smiled. "And now, I am the one wearing the silk! We are the ones with the power for change! And we'll have it," he added darkly.

"Great story," Kirk countered. "Now can you tell us any real reasons to help you?"

Kabul's smile faded. "Yes, I think I can think of a few." Before anyone could react, even Jim, he had put a pistol to the King's temple, and a shot rang out. Draken's blood splattered against the floor, and against them.

Uhura unfroze herself a second after the others, and turned her phaser to the guards surrounding them. But there were many more there than the four that had been guarding the king. There had to be at least fifteen, all holding guns pointed at their heads.

Jim snarled, his own phaser directed at Kabul himself, who seemed unfazed.

"Captain, be careful," he warned. "If you want your friends to keep their brains off the floor, I'd recommend standing down. We're all excellent shots."

"Is this really how you want to act?" Jim tried, forcing his voice to calm. "We're trying to help you!"

Kabul chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure you are."

Suddenly a loud blast went off, and Uhura looked around frantically. One of the guards had been shot with a phaser. Seconds later, the sound of a gun fired off. Unders was lying on his back, blood streaming out of the back of his head. Nyota clapped a hand over her mouth, her gaze locked on the body.

Jim was white faced.

McCoy raced forwards and kneeled to check his pulse. Shaking his head, he yelled, "You fuckers! What did that do for you?"

"McCoy," Jim growled. "Be quiet."

"Now Captain," said Kabul, "Are you going to cooperate, or are you going to watch your team die?"

"You need us you little shit!" the captain roared. "What about the virus you and your planet are not immune to? You cooperate, we give you the drugs!"

Kabul looked at him impassively before shooting Little.

"Fuck!" Jim snarled. "Stand down, now!" He barked to the rest of them.

Uhura looked at him incredulously. He was giving up?

"Jim," McCoy growled, not dropping his weapon.

"Lower your weapon, doctor. That is an order."

Shaking with fury, his eyes darting between the two fallen soldiers, McCoy lowered his weapon to his side. Uhura did the same.

Almost immediately, the group closed in on them. In a flurry of almost unfollowable activity, the side of Kirk's head was hit by the butt of Kabul's gun. McCoy cried out, his hand stretching towards his friend. Uhura raced forwards, but hands grabbed her shoulders and arms and pulled her back roughly, securing her wrists in iron manacles. McCoy was likewise restrained.

They were going in opposite directions.

"Jim!" McCoy yelled, his face a mixture of hatred and anguish.

Jim didn't respond; his head lolling on his shoulders as a door slammed shut in front of him.

Uhura and McCoy were thrown into another cell, the iron door's clash seemingly condemning their fate.