Chekov arrived in the Transporter room to find no sign of Ensign Carpenter, or even of the supposed traitor Lieutenant Carol Marcus. The only ones who lingered were other members of the crew who had also arrived too late to see the action. Scotty sat at his desk, his fingers playing with something in small, a container of sorts... his eyes met the Russian's, and the information passed silently between them. So Chekov went to talk quietly with one of the others of the crew, a redshirt he'd befriended in his brief time down in engineering, while the room slowly cleared. Eventually, the redshirt - who was named Bran - made his apologies and scooted off to his post, leaving just Scotty and Chekov in the room.

"You have it?" Chekov's voice was quiet as he stood next to the man. This was the closest he ever got to mutiny, and it was strangely exhilarating. It would be fun, if there weren't lives at stake.

"Aye. Marcus passed it off to meh before she was arrested." And without any more words, he passed the tubes of serum over to Chekov, who tucked them away in his pocket. "Get 'em to Bones fast."

"Yessir." Chekov took off immediately, hoping he could pass this absence off on the excitement of the arrest. Because otherwise he'd be joining Marcus and Carpenter in the brig, no doubt.

Bones practically flew from his chair as Chekov entered, his face full of hope that was ready to be crushed, should Chekov have bad news. Spock was harder to read, but there was a glint of that same hope in his eyes, and he slowly, hesitantly stood and followed Bones.

"Did you get it?"

"Yessir." He produced the six little vials, and Bones grabbed them so quickly Chekov barely had time to figure out what was happening. He scurried away to his little in house lab, pulling one of the vials open and beginning all the science-y things he would do to produce a cure for the Captain. Spock, on the other hand, set a surprisingly solid hand on Chekov's shoulder and said a quiet, "Thank you."

"I really didn't do anysing, sir, it was ze Ensign Carpenter and Lieutenant Marcus-"

"Thank you." He said once more, before he went to the table Bones was already working at and offered his advice. Chekov watched the two at work, dreading his return to the bridge. But it had to happen sometime. And now everything that he could do for the Captain was already done, so he supposed going to the brig wasn't the worst thing that could happen to him.

A heavy sigh before he straightened his spine and made his way proudly to the bridge, ready to face whatever punishment awaited him.

When he arrived, it wasn't exactly surprising that he was immediately handcuffed by the two guards that stood on either side of the entrance. Sulu glanced at him, saw the action, and made as encouraging a face as he could before he returned to his work. He was the last one on the bridge who was actively involved in the rebellion. He couldn't be connected to Chekov.

"You've disobeyed your orders, Chekov. Do you understand that?"

In a moment of brave heroism, or perhaps just loyal idiocy, Pavel puffed up his chest and said proudly, "I apologize, sir, but I have not. My captain did not order me to be a traitor."

That earned him a nice punch in the side, which made his feet give out beneath him. Sulu did his best not to get up and defend the younger man, but his entire body tensed at the surprised "Oof" as Chekov was hit. When he heard another thud and Chekov's whimper, he stood and turned towards the Captain. "Sir. Physically punishing a crew member for disobedience is against Starfleet regulation."

"Excuse me, Mr. Sulu?"

"You heard me, Captain. Chekov should be escorted to the brig, where he will be able to think on his crimes. But physical violence is frowned upon."

Briggs stared hard at Sulu, his eyes contemplative as he took in Sulu's stance, his expression, the tone of his voice. And once he'd decided he was satisfied, he nodded. "Thank you for the reminder, Sulu. He will be escorted to his new home, until we arrive at Starfleet and I can do away with the undisciplined members of Kirk's crew."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir."

Briggs nodded at the two guards, who dragged Chekov away like the worst of war criminals, not the innocent boy that he was. Sulu sat down at his post, staring straight ahead and focusing intently on not letting his breathing speed or his face show the fear he had for his friends, all of them.

"If you would please just let me in to see her, I could make sure she doesn't need medical attention. We're both prisoners, it's not like locking us up together is going to-"

"I can't, Lieutenant. I'm sorry."

The guard did seem sorry. He looked miserable, in fact, standing at his post. This was clearly not something he wanted to be doing, and the fact that Carpenter was in her cell, out cold because of the pain from being drug to the brig, wasn't setting well with him. But Carol couldn't figure out how to play that the right way to allow them in the cell together.

"She could be seriously injured, and it's against Starfleet regulation to allow a prisoner to be in that much pain, especially a member of Starfleet." That was probably true. It would make sense, anyway. And she doubted this guard was any more well-read on these matters than she was.

"But Briggs-"

"The Tyrant doesn't care much for regulation, from what I've seen. Which will get him in trouble, but you don't have to be included in that group. You can do the right thing."

"If I end up in a cell like you, you'll be just as out of luck. It doesn't do anyone any good for me to break rules."

"It doesn't do anyone any good to follow rules, either, if we're honest."

"I can't, Lieutenant."

"Of course not, because you have no spine." But she sighed and stopped asking, because clearly she was going about it all wrong. "Carpenter, you awake yet?"

When she was met with only silence, she sighed again. She couldn't even see the girl, stuck in a cell beside her. The glass wall only let her see the guard, leaning against the wall opposite her, and the three cells directly across from her, empty at the moment. She had no doubt there'd be more coming in soon, judging by the way things were going.

And as she thought it, the footsteps became audible coming towards their cell block. She scooted a little closer to the glass wall, watching to see who else was unfortunate enough to get on the Tyrant's bad side.

The gasp as she saw them dragging Chekov couldn't be stopped. The guard had a similar reaction.

The boy already had a black eye forming, and the swelling had started on the left side of his face. He hung limply between two guards, his head lolling. There seemed to be more bruising disappearing under his shirt, and his lip was bloodied.

Carol stood and leaned against the glass, watching as they set him gently in his cell. One of the new guards had a look of intense regret, looking at the boy. The other seemed entirely unaffected, but Carol was fairly certain this was one of the few who had come with the Tyrant. He had the same entitled demeanor about him, and the fact that he cared so little that dear Chekov was unconscious because of what was surely an unasked for beating...

The guard who'd been standing by with them looked as distraught as Carol, if not moreso. And as soon as the door was closed and the guards had left, he went over to see the boy.

"How is he? How badly did they...?"

"Promise me you won't try to run off." He said quietly, turning to look at her with ghosts in his eyes.

"Of course."

And without another word, he went to her cell and punched in the code to let her out, and then opened Chekov's cell as well.

"Thank you."

"You can go see to Carpenter once you're satisfied the little guy's okay." His voce was gruff, taking back his earlier rejection with a little trepidation. "Just let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you so much."

"The name's Corey Willard. Pleasure."

"Carol Marcus." He already knew that, but she wasn't sure what etiquette demanded with her jailer. So she hurried to the Russian and began running her fingers softly over the bruises, taking a look at his pupil response, checking breathing and heart rate. "As we're prisoners in the worst way, I'm sure we don't have access to a regenerator or anything?"

"No ma'am."

"Then there's not much I can do, but he'll be fine. Just a little beat up, is all."

"It's not right."

"No, it's not. Which is why we need Kirk back up on his sorry feet as soon as possible, and get this Tyrant off the Enterprise." She said as she stood.

"Any word on him?"

"Chekov was the only one who went in to see them on a regular basis, but since Carpenter brought back the serum, maybe..." She shook her head. "I don't know. He wasn't doing well, last I heard. Bones didn't have much hope unless he could find a way to reverse whatever they gave him or find a new super gene."

"I'm sorry."

"I am too. But let me go see Carpenter, make sure we won't..." But she couldn't say anything about death, or burying, or anything dark, not when that could be a reality for several of her crewmates. And Kirk. But every time she thought of him, she forced herself to think of him as her Captain, and not her lover or her friend or anyone particularly important to her. It had worked to keep her in one piece so far, but she knew she had to be careful. She wouldn't let herself go to pieces, not when they were in such a rough spot.

Willard escorted her to Mia's cell, where she lay in the corner, her back to the glass. At least they'd let her have some privacy.

"Mia?" Marcus let her voice be quiet, as if waking a child. And the girl stirred, but she didn't roll over, and she didn't look up. Carol frowned and placed a hand on the girl's shoulder.

"What...?" Mia's voice was full of sleep, and when she looked drowsily at Carol the blonde smiled.

"Hey Mia. How're you feeling?"

Mia frowned as she processed the question, and that seemed to be when the pain reared its ugly head. She cringed, her body shrinking as she curled up on herself, trying to keep the pain at bay.

"Mia, I know it hurts, but I need you to tell me what. I need to see what you need."

"Legs. Wrist." She gasped. Carol wasted no time, looking at the girl for signs of damage. And when she saw, she shook her head.

"There's nothing I can do for her. We need Bones. As soon as possible."

"I can't do that."

"I know." And she couldn't blame the man for not even attempting. It was one thing to move prisoners around within the brig, where no one else could see. But to break out one of the higher profile prisoners and bring them to a different part of the ship would definitely end in Willard the sympathetic guard being Willard the prisoner, which, as he'd said before, wouldn't do any of them any good.

"I'll see if I can find someone else."

"Thank you." She smiled at the man, wishing she knew him better. As he escorted her back to her own cell, locking the door behind her, he gave her a weary smile.

"You're welcome." He said quietly. And then he left, on the hunt for a doctor who wasn't being held prisoner somewhere.

Carol had no idea what had happened to Mia, but she knew she there was no way she could even begin to diagnose the problem, let alone fix it. But it was very wrong, and potentially the poor ensign wouldn't walk again, if what she'd seen was any indication. The poor girl.

But if it saved Kirk... it probably made her a horrible person, to think it was worth it to sacrifice a girl's mobility for Kirk's life, but it didn't change anything. Because she'd give up a whole lot to save Kirk, and clearly she wasn't the only one.

AN/ Hello lovelies! Thank you so much for continuing to read, and for all the nice comments you've left me – I really appreciate it. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter!