A tense silence had descended onto the bridge after Kirk had announced to the Romulans that he would surrender the ship, and had ordered to drop the shields. McCoy had forced himself not to watch Chekov, as if doing so would direct the enemy commander's attention to what they intended to do, so he had the dubious privilege to observe the visual effects of a transporter beam delivering the boarding crew directly onto the bridge. They hadn't bothered with a shuttle.
Three Romulans, including their sardonic commander, emerged from the shimmering veil, disruptors already drawn. They took aim at the crew immediately, as if they didn't have to reorient themselves after materializing. Either the Romulan mind was less sensitive to the transporter effects, or they had done this often enough to be used to it; McCoy didn't know which possibility was more disturbing, but neither beat looking into the muzzle of a disruptor. He raised his hands in surrender without thinking.
Then the floor swayed under his feet, and for a mortifying second, McCoy thought he was fainting.
"Romulan wessel destroyed," Chekov announced smugly.
The commander's head whipped around, as did McCoy's; everyone stared at the main screen, where a cloud of debris was drifting where a moment before the Bird of Prey had been. Chekov had, by sheer luck, not only penetrated the shields, but hit something critical; McCoy was sure Kirk would study the sensor logs later to see how exactly he had done it.
If they survived that long; currently, McCoy still wouldn't bet money on that.
Chekov must've raised the shields immediately after firing at the ship, or they'd have been taken out by the wreckage. Little flashes indicated where smaller pieces were disintegrating as they came into contact with the Enterprise's shields.
"If you thought this would save you from the Empire's justice, you were mistaken," the Romulan said. He raised his brow. "I had alerted the fleet to our position; they will be here shortly."
Kirk was smiling, but McCoy could see how tense he was; he just hoped the Romulan couldn't see it, but not much seemed to escape that green-blooded bastard's notice. "Well, we won't be here anymore when they arrive, and right now it seems you're in a bit of a quandary, Subcommander. You seem to be missing a ship and a crew to wield the Empire's authority here."
The Romulan's expression shifted subtly; to McCoy it looked slightly pissed, but uncharacteristically subdued for a Romulan. They usually didn't leave their mood to their victims' speculation.
"I am Commander-General Spock," he corrected a still-smiling Kirk.
McCoy suppressed a groan. Spock. Of all the green-blooded devils to board their ship...
"And I am in no way without a ship or a crew." Spock made a small gesture with his disruptor. "Step away from the command chair."
Kirk didn't move. "I don't think so."
Commander-General Spock slightly raised his chin. "Captain, much as it would pain me to do it, I have no qualms executing you right here and now. Step down."
"Vell, I have no qualms executing you right now, either," Chekov snarled. Somehow, he had not only managed to get hold of a disruptor somewhere, but also to hide it from the boarding crew. Now he was aiming it at Spock's head. One of Spock's guards, presumably the one whose job it had been to keep an eye on Chekov, hastily swung his disruptor in his direction, but stopped when Uhura jumped up from her station with her own disruptor aimed at his head.
Why is everyone but me carrying a disruptor? McCoy wondered.
Then he stopped having coherent thoughts at all, because Uhura pivoted towards Kirk, and suddenly her disruptor pointed at Jim's head. "Please lower your weapon, Mr. Chekov," she said in the same lovely voice that she had used to introduce herself to McCoy.
What a lady, McCoy had thought then.
... a lady who was working for the Tal Shiar.
Chekov's face showed the same mix of shock and betrayal that McCoy felt — and also the devastation of a broken heart. He dropped the disruptor.
Just then Scotty's voice boomed over the intercom. "Jimmy, we—"
"In a moment, Mr. Scott," Kirk said. His voice was calm as always, but Scotty's response — "Aye, captain..." — indicated that he had caught on that something wasn't going according to plan on the bridge. Maybe because there had been no '"Jimmy." — "Scotty."' banter going on.
McCoy hoped that Kirk had a plan B. Or C, or even Z — anything that didn't end with them all in a Romulan interrogation room. Maybe Kirk had just told Scotty what to do in code?
Right now, Kirk was talking plain English with Uhura. "Your friend down in engineering will be gravely disappointed in you."
"Sulu and I aren't that close," Uhura retorted. Her smile was gone. "But we're all on the same side in this matter."
So Sulu and Uhura both worked for the Romulans. Well, they had joined their crew on Rand's recommendation; McCoy had never fully believed her sob story about wanting to leave the Tal Shiar who had abducted her as a child to train her for undercover work among her fellow humans.
She had probably concocted that story because of what had happened to his own daughter. McCoy was surprised about the lack of bitterness that accompanied that insight. Maybe his baseline of general bitterness was simply too high to register this additional blip.
If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.
And for once, even Kirk seemed to be at a loss for words.
It was Chekov who broke the silence. "Another ship has appeared on our sensors, keptin."
"Hail them," Spock said without taking his eyes off Kirk. His disruptor was still aimed steadily at Kirk's head.
At a nod from Kirk, Chekov fumbled with the controls. "Hailing frequencies are open," he finally announced.
"Spock to Independence," the Romulan said. "Have you received the package?"
"Positive," came the reply via audio; the screen still showed the unknown ship, a curious design McCoy had never seen before — a round, saucer-like hull with two nacelles attached like an afterthought. "But I'm afraid we need you to figure it out in the short time we have before we have to give it back."
"It is necessary that I stay here to orchestrate my return to the Empire," Spock said. "But I have found an adequate substitute for the task. Sending you the coordinates now." He holstered his disruptor and strode to Sulu's orphaned station to tap in a rapid sequence of whatever directions he was sending to the...
... the Resistance ship. McCoy finally remembered to close his mouth again. They were all working for the Resistance? Uhura and Sulu... and Spock? T'gai Spock, whose clan had insinuated itself to the Romulans as soon as they had conquered Vulcan, and had sat in the senate ever since? Whose clan matriarch T'Pau was said to have the ear of the Praetor himself? That Spock?
If that was true — and from what was taking place before his very eyes, McCoy had no choice but to assume that it was true — it was a masterpiece of political maneuvering and deceit, truly worthy of a Romulan, even if he was fancying himself to be still a Vulcan.
"They beamed out Mr. Scott!" Chekov yelled. "They abducted him!"
Kirk jumped out of his seat and was in Spock's face in a second. At the communication's station, Uhura jerked her disruptor at him, but didn't pull the trigger; Spock had merely held up a hand to stop her, and McCoy didn't know if he should admire Uhura's discipline and reaction time, or grate at the unquestioning obedience a human showed to a Romulan.
Vulcan. Whatever.
"Return my engineer at once!" Kirk snarled.
Spock regarded him coolly. "Your Mr. Scott will be reunited with you as soon as he has integrated the replica of the cloaking device with Commodore Pike's ship," he said. "Since replication as well as integration are rather time-consuming, I suggest you drop your insubordination and accept my command for the time being." He nodded towards the screen. "Your Orion pursuers will be back shortly, and so will be the reinforcements I had to call in. It would be wise to direct the attention of our enemies to this ship to give your engineer the opportunity to fulfill this task."
Kirk stared at him. "You want me to put my ship in the line of fire so these people can make a copy of the cloaking device? How long do you think we can put up a fight? Two years? Five?"
Spock raised a brow. "I do not follow your calculations here, Captain. Of course we already assembled a copy from information that had been channelled out of the research facilities on Ch'Havran. We only need the working prototype you retrieved from the Orions to correct some small but crucial details. I am confident that Mr. Scott won't need two years for that. He seems to be reasonably competent as an engineer."
"Mr. Scott is an absolute tech wizard," Kirk snapped. "He's a lot more than 'reasonably competent'!"
Spock nodded slightly. "And I assume you are comparably competent as a gunner."
Kirk stepped even closer, until they were almost nose to nose. If Spock found their sudden proximity unpleasant, he didn't show it. His face was absolutely expressionless.
"I," Kirk said in a low voice, "am comparably competent as a captain. This is my ship, and if you want me to send it on a suicide mission so that your friends can hook up our booty to their dreamboat, you'll accept my authority while you're here." He turned abruptly and went back to the command chair.
"Otherwise," he continued as he let himself fall into the protesting chair, "I'll just sit this out. I'll let the Orions haul us back to their moon, and take us all into custody. Including you, and then I'll tell them everything about your little scheme to thwart the Empire. I'm sure T'Pau will be thrilled to explain that to the Praetor."
"Four ships approaching... no, five. Six," Chekov announced nervously.
Spock rubbed his chin. "I do not recall any mention of extortion as your business model in your file. For someone who supposedly makes his living by smuggling contraband, you are curiously versed in its use."
Kirk smiled slightly. "Only when it comes to extorting what's already mine."
The first ship fired a tentative shot. It glanced off the Enterprise's regenerated shields, but the hit was still strong enough to make everyone sway in place. "Time's up, Mr. Spock. Do you accept a field commission as the Enterprise's gunner, or not?"
The Commander-General allowed himself a small sigh. "Very well. For the time being, I will accept this as the most pragmatic solution to our situation."
"My God, Jim!" McCoy couldn't hold back any longer. "There are six ships out there, with more on the way! We'll never stand a chance!" He swallowed the rest of his words when everyone turned to stare at him.
Kirk was the only one who smiled. "If there is no chance, we'll make one," he said. "It's how Scotty and I survived for so long. Mr. Spock, man the weapons control. Uhura, see if you can hack their sensors once Commander Spock has penetrated their shields. Chekov, evasive maneuvers — now you can prove if you're really a better pilot than me. Spock, if your guards can make themselves useful in the engine room, I'm sure Sulu would appreciate it. Bones—" He hesitated.
McCoy grabbed Chapel's hand and pulled her towards the door. "We'll be in sickbay, awaiting our deaths, or the wounded, whichever comes first."
"I'm not a nurse," Chapel protested as he directed her down the corridor.
"You studied BioSciences before you decided to traipse around the galaxy," McCoy growled. "You're the closest thing to a nurse I have on this ship, you might as well make yourself useful." And stop mooning over that Romulan-Vulcan defector, if he really is one, but he didn't say that aloud.
Halfway down the corridor, Chapel pulled her hand free and turned on her heels. "You know what? Screw it, I want to know what's happening." She strode back towards the ladder to the upper deck .
McCoy hurried after her. "You... we'll just be in the way."
But he said it without any real force, because if he was completely honest with himself, there was no point hiding in sickbay. Six ships had been closing in, and God knew how many warships — Romulan, Klingon, or otherwise — were already on their way. There would be no wounded to treat. They were all going to die.
He could as well watch as it was happening.
Nobody paid them any attention on the bridge this time, and McCoy made sure that he and Chapel stayed in the back to keep it that way. The bridge was tiny enough that 'staying in the back' still meant he was breathing down Kirk's neck, but Kirk was busy directing Chekov in ever crazier evasion patterns.
Spock had been left to his own devices at the weapons station, but seemed to have no difficulties finding his way around its unfamiliar layout: one of the Enterprise's torpedos had just broken through one of the Orion ships' shields and taken out some apparently vital part of its engines: the ship went dark and listed so heavily that McCoy thought for a moment it would roll over its axis completely.
Despite her official designation, the Enterprise was not a freighter; as Kirk had confided in McCoy one late evening, after several brandys too many, Scott had cobbled it together on the side from dozens of derelict ships on a ship graveyard, while they had both been working for an Orion scrap dealer. You could still see the seams — or at least Chapel had seen them — but there had been a method to the madness: Kirk had known even then what he'd need that ship for, and Scott had dutifully obliged him in his selections of spare parts.
They had named her Enterprise because that's what her one and only purpose was: make them a living. Make them successful. Make them a name in the quadrant, at least among the other smugglers, thieves, and soldiers of fortune trying to outwit and outgun each other. The ship was faster than it should be, and more heavily armed than it legally could be .
It still made this fight a hopeless endeavor, but they weren't as helpless as they looked at first glance. They would go down, but they'd go down with a bang. It wasn't how McCoy had imagined his life to end, but he suspected that Kirk had always envisioned a spectacular death for himself, and now it looked as if he'd get his wish.
The deck shook as the Enterprise took another hit, and McCoy grabbed the backrest of Kirk's seat with both hands to keep himself upright.
"Shields holding," Chekov announced. His cheeks were red, but his voice was calm and focused, and the Enterprise dove, port and down, so quickly that the internal dampers couldn't keep up and everyone had to lean to the right and grab onto the closest wall or console to compensate for the tilting deck under their feet. "It vas just a glance."
"Keep her a moving target," Kirk ordered. "A quickly moving target. We're smaller, more agile than those Orions, let's use that to our advantage."
"Aye, Keptin!"
How did he do it, McCoy wondered, projecting the illusion that they could prevail against half a dozen ships firing at them, and entangling everyone on the bridge in it, too? For a second, even he had entertained the hope...
"That was a nice shot there, Subcommander. Think you can do it again?"
"I do not want to risk a torpedo if there is no clear line of fire." Spock was drilling one ship in particular with disruptor beams — trying to saw through its shields, McCoy speculated. Space combat hadn't been on his study plan at university. "Your ship's supply of them is limited."
"I trust your expertise, Mr. Spock. Just as I trust your self-interest in this situation."
"My only interest is to serve the cause, captain."
"Of course. Just remember, if you, Uhura, and Sulu survive this day, you can go on serving your cause. Just as we can go on serving ours."
Spock had apparently succeeded in dismantling the ship's shield, because it suddenly went dark and shot past them as if it was unable to correct its course — the latter was Uhura's doing, McCoy guessed.
"Captain, your 'cause' is entirely synonymous with 'self-interest'," Spock continued the conversation calmly, as if he wasn't currently embroiled in a fierce battle with the remaining four Orion ships.
"Well, we each serve in a way that fits our innate talents."
Subdued chuckles arose from the stations around the bridge, and McCoy shook his head. Kirk's quip had sounded like a joke, but after Sulu had beamed out the Romulan cloaking device to that Resistance ship of theirs, it was probably a good idea to keep the rebels motivated to at least try and survive. It was curious that they had stayed on board after they had handed over their prize to that Commodore Pike, but Spock's remark about having to orchestrate his return to the Empire had indicated that the Resistance still had plans for this ship and her crew. Right now, though, it looked as if all their plans had gone sideways, and for some people, death was preferable to captivity.
Still, leave it to Kirk to crack a joke in the midst of battle. At least it seemed to have relaxed the tension somewhat between him and Spock, who was now firing one of their precious torpedos into the third Orion ship whose shields he had hammered with the disruptors. The ship blew up in a blindingly bright explosion.
They were down to three enemy ships now, and McCoy dared to hope against all hope that—
Something hit the ship with the force of a small asteroid and all the lights went dark. McCoy found himself sitting on the deck, blood in his mouth.
"We've been hit," Chekov's voice sounded from the darkness.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious," McCoy muttered. He groped in the darkness until he found the command chair and pulled himself upright. "Why haven't they blasted us into hell yet?"
"We still have their Vulcan swords," Kirk reminded him. McCoy flinched; Kirk's voice was directly at his right ear. "And as far as they know, we also have the Cloaking Device. We're too valuable to be destroyed. I guess they'll tow us back to the station for processing." He sounded absent-minded; calculating their escape, McCoy hoped.
"Sulu, status report!" There was no response. "Where's Scotty when you need him... oh right, they beamed him out." Kirk sounded as if he wanted to curse, but was holding back for the sake of the crew; for someone who had spent the majority of his adult life on a two-man ship, he had good instincts about how to lead a bigger team, McCoy thought.
"Spock." Kirk's voice sounded resigned, but determined. "Go down and help Sulu to fix whatever you can — your station is offline anyway. Life support. Sensors would be nice. And if you can coax the engines back on..."
"I'll see what I can do."
The next thing McCoy heard was the mechanical whine of the override on the bridge doors. Spock had found his way without bumping into anyone, a talent that failed to endear him to McCoy. Bad enough to have people on board whose loyalties were not what they had seemed; worse if they could sneak up on you like cats. Worst of all if those people were Romulans.
Suddenly Kirk's hand was around his arm, and he was pushed through the same doors and into the corridor. "Listen," Kirk's voice whispered. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this. There's a lifeboat in the back, and Scotty had outfitted it with a sensor-reflecting hull; you'd float away undetected and could signal for help once everyone's gone. Use the emergency frequency that's already pre-programmed into the computer, it's one that's not easily picked up, except for this old buddy of mine who still owes me for—"
"Stop babbling, Jim, good God!" McCoy finally got a word in. "If you think I'll jump out of an airlock with nothing but a grapefruit-sized metal bubble between me and the vacuum, you're more out of your mind than I'd thought!"
"It's your best chance to survive this! I'm not going to let them hand me over to the Romulans."
There was a wild undertone in Kirk's calm voice that made McCoy shiver. A tone that said, I survived one of their penal colonies and I'm never gonna repeat that experience. Never. Whatever he was planning, McCoy was sure it involved Sulu's 'surgical explosives'.
"The lifeboat is big enough for two people," Kirk was still trying to persuade him. "I'm not asking you to leave your girlfriend behind..."
"She's not my—"
"I'm not his girlfriend."
Oh. Chapel had followed them outside, it seemed. McCoy wished Sulu would at least switch the lights back on.
"Jim." Time to set a few things straight. "You're the most reckless, cunning, and shameless bastard this side of the galaxy, and I've known that since I've met you seven years ago, bleeding out on my operation table. So if you think I'd agreed to this mad adventure of yours without knowing full well the risks I was taking, you're not half as smart as I'd thought you'd be."
He drew a deep breath, secretly surprised that nobody had interrupted him yet. "It's noble of you to try and save me, and believe me, I appreciate it. But I came by my own free will, because I thought with the money we'd earn I'd have a chance to find Joanna... and I'm not leaving now. Whatever you're planning, I bet it's dangerous and a health hazard, and you'll need a doctor. And a nurse."
"I'm not..." Chapel protested. Then she sighed. "Oh, whatever. I guess I can change a bedpan, that can't be too difficult."
A dim glow emerged overhead: the emergency lighting had come back. In the weak light, McCoy thought he saw Kirk swallow, but then his face went smooth again, and he wasn't sure anymore. He opened his mouth, but before he could say something, a voice bellowed over the speakers, ordering them to surrender to the Orion security forces.
Kirk smiled wryly. "Seems Uhura's station has been switched on together with the lights. Let's see if I can negotiate a bit with them, until Sulu or Spock can give me warp."
"And a torpedo to break their tractor beam?" McCoy scoffed, but followed him back to the bridge.
Kirk didn't answer, which was just as well, because McCoy suspected that anything Sulu was involved in would inevitably feature torpedoes at one point or another.
He probably should really be in sickbay and not on the bridge. But nobody had been injured yet and his curiosity won out.
"I'm willing to negotiate the artifacts you lost for our release," Kirk was saying.
McCoy fully expected the Orion to laugh in Kirk's face for that offer, but instead things got suddenly very hectic on the bridge there. The connection was severed abruptly, and everyone stared at a dark screen.
"Sensors, Chekov?" Kirk had recovered first.
"I'm trying, Keptin, but they're... tricky," Checkov muttered, and fiddled with his station. "I can't project them to the screen," he said after a moment. "Orion wessels are changing formation and are powering up their weapons... uh oh."
"Uh oh what?" McCoy had a bad feeling about this.
"Several ships entering sensor range at high warp," Chekov reported. "Signatures..." He turned around in his seat. "Romulan."
"Sulu, we need warp, right now." Kirk's voice was tense. McCoy bet he wished Scotty was down there. He knew that he wished for it — if only half of Kirk's stories were true, the engineer could break the laws of physics, despite his protests to the contrary.
"I need a few minutes," Sulu's voice came back over the intercom, just as tense. "I'm not an engineer—"
"Well, too bad your comrades stole mine," Kirk snapped. "The Romulans have joined the party, you have thirty seconds." He switched off the comm with an impatient flip of the wrist.
"Think the Orions will defend us?" McCoy asked no one in particular. "We have their stuff, after all."
"No," Chapel said immediately. "They know they don't stand a chance. If they can't talk them down, they'll shoot at us to destroy the evidence. Orion wants to preserve its neutrality at all costs, it's the basis of their business model."
"You can't talk down a Romulan," Kirk said. He switched on the comm again. "Sulu..."
"Incoming wessel!" Chekov shouted. "Designation unknown, it's firing... on us!"
"Shields!" Kirk yelled.
Then everything went white.
A billion stars coalesced into the sight of one Montgomery Scott, who immediately raised his hands in a 'wasn't me this time' gesture before McCoy could even draw a breath.
Various people around him were gasping in surprise or simple disorientation; apparently, the whole crew had been beamed out before the ship had been annihilated.
It had been annihilated, right? McCoy turned his head to find the person in charge, though he was as yet undecided whether he wanted to ask them about the Enterprise, or yell at them for scrambling his atoms for the second time in the span of an hour.
Kirk beat him to it. He and Scotty had exchanged the shortest man-hug possible before Kirk strode to the woman standing beside the transporter console. "I have some questions I'd like to ask your captain."
The woman quirked a brow. "The captain is currently preoccupied with extracting you from your pursuers," she said cooly. Her utter lack of emotion somehow felt more disdainful to McCoy than a scolding would have.
Kirk didn't seem to be affected. "You abducted my engineer and destroyed my ship, after you'd tricked me into stealing top-grade military technology from the Romulans for you. And from the looks of it, my abducted engineer has already outfitted your ship with it, or you'd be embroiled in battle by now. I'm sure your captain can make time for me."
McCoy stepped forward. "And for me." After sneaking onto the bridge again and again, he didn't want to be kept out of the loop now.
"And for my crew," Kirk added smoothly. "Though as I've come to understand, half of it is your crew anyway."
The woman's expression didn't change. She was beautiful, black hair contrasting with her white skin and pale blue eyes, if one had a passion for ice, or marble. It was probably best to admire her from a safe distance — say, two solar systems over.
"I'll see what I can do," she said. "Follow me."
They were led to some sort of visitors' lounge or conference room, and left alone to wait; to McCoy's surprise, Sulu and Uhura stayed with them. He'd have expected them to leave with the aloof officer, probably for a debriefing. Instead, Sulu was lounging in a chair, while Uhura was quietly talking with Rand and Chapel in the far corner of the room. McCoy wasn't surprised she and Rand knew each other, but what did they have to talk about with Chapel?
Don't get paranoid now, he admonished himself. Not everyone can be in cahoots with the rebels. And even if she was, what difference does it make now? We're all prisoners of the Resistance, though I wonder...
"Why did they beam us out?" he wondered aloud. "They had what they wanted."
Sulu frowned at him from across the table. "Because we're no murderers."
"Because it was easier to beam everyone out in a second than to sort out their own people from the rest," Kirk said simultaneously.
"Because I had told them I wouldnae lift a finger for them if they didn't save Jimmy and the rest of you," Scotty declared.
"Huh," McCoy muttered. He could take his pick of explanations now, from the most idealistic to the most cynical.
"About that," he said to Scotty, "why did they beam you over? They must've planned this mission for months, don't tell me they don't have their own engineers for that?"
Scotty shrugged. "Don't ask me, it wasnae my idea." He nodded towards Sulu. "He just made a package of me and the cloaking device."
Sulu smirked. "And I made the right call when I did it. I've never seen anyone figure out a new piece of tech that quickly. I knew we wouldn't have much time before the Romulans showed up, so Scotty was our best bet."
Scotty visibly rose in his seat. "I have a reputation."
Sulu's smile turned genuine. "Your reputation precedes you even more now, Mr. Scott."
"Please call me Scotty," Scotty said. McCoy snorted and shook his head.
The doors opened with a swish — the whole ship was, while not exactly plush, a lot more stylish than the Enterprise, and McCoy idly wondered who was financing that secret Resistance shipyard... probably the Romulan faction that still considered themselves Vulcans — and a man entered with a smile on his face that was entirely professional. He wore insignia that were completely unknown to McCoy, but were probably denoting his rank as commander of this ship.
They have their own rank insignia. And ships. And now ships that won't show up in any sensor sweeps. Good God, they're really building a fleet here that's prepared to go to war.
Suddenly McCoy was craving a brandy.
"Captain Kirk." The man acknowledged the rest of them with a nod. "I'm Commodore Pike. Welcome aboard the Independence, and my apologies for the manner in which you arrived here."
"I appreciate that you didn't leave us on my ship when you blew her apart," Kirk said lightly, though his eyes told McCoy that he didn't take it lightly at all. Beside him, Scotty was heaving a mournful sigh at the mention of the ship's fate.
Pike shrugged; he managed to look somewhat contrite. "You were surrounded by four Orion and five Romulan ships — even we wouldn't have stood a chance. And now that you're presumed dead, the Empire will at least not put a bounty on your heads and look for you on every asteroid in the quadrant."
McCoy suspected that this particular consideration had actually been applied to Rand and Spock — especially to Spock, who couldn't afford to connect his clan's name to the Resistance in any way — and he, Kirk, and Scott had only been an afterthought, probably right in this moment. Not that he didn't appreciate to not appear on any bounty hunter's contract with the Romulans.
But that begged another question; one as logical as it was disconcerting. "So now that you erased our existence... and their business," he gestured in Kirk's direction, "we have nowhere to go, or go back to. So... what now? You're kicking us out at the next intersection?"
Pike smiled, and this time, his pity did seem genuine. "I'm afraid it's not that simple. Sulu and Uhura will simply be assigned to different missions in our organisation, and Miss Rand here had wanted to escape her Romulan masters, so she'll be happy to join them.
"But we cannot simply kick you out at the next space station, as you put it — the success of our strategy depends on keeping the enemy in the dark about every aspect of our structure, our plans, the identity of our operatives, our technological progress... in a word, things you already know too much about. I don't have to tell you how a skilled interrogator can retrieve a wealth of information that you aren't even consciously aware of via a mind probe."
Everyone's gaze flicked to Spock, who only reacted to the sudden horrified scrutiny with a raised brow.
"What about him?" McCoy asked to avoid thinking about the implication of Pike's words. "He's presumed dead now, too?"
Pike frowned. "Yes, unfortunately. The Orions were a lot faster and sent a much more massive fleet after you than we expected. We had actually counted on your ability to get away with the cloaking device without triggering an alarm."
"They had actual guards stationed with the device," Sulu interjected. "That wasn't part of our information." His gaze flicked to Rand, who frowned in response.
"Don't look at me like that," she protested. "It wasn't in any documentation I saw. Some top secret orders are only given verbally, to the person or persons who are directly concerned. Don't you think the Empire is aware of people like me?"
"In any case," Pike cut off the brewing discussion, "I see no way of sending General Spock back with his cover intact — even if it was, failure to bring back the cloaking device would be treated with utmost severity by the Praetor and the Senate; they'd probably even expect him to commit suicide to restore the clan's honor."
"They may still expect a family member to commit it in lieu of me," Spock interjected.
"What?" McCoy couldn't believe his ears, especially since Spock appeared to be completely unconcerned. "Why would they expect someone who had no control over events here to take the blame for it?"
"I would explain to you the concept and demands of mnei'sahe if I had any confidence in your ability to grasp them, Doctor," Spock said, still eerily calm. "However, you are human, which makes such an endeavor pointless."
"Well, thank you," McCoy sputtered. Spock politely inclined his head as he accepted the admission of human inferiority, totally missing the sarcasm.
"What did you have in mind for us, then?" Kirk asked, clearly not interested in what Pike had in mind for Spock.
"A choice," Pike said. He leaned back in his seat with a broad smile. "A very nice exile on a beautiful planet — with the option to practice your respective professions — temperate climate, friendly population, exquisite native cuisine, and the entertainment options are also nothing to look down on..."
"Or?" Kirk prompted; his eyes had glazed over slightly during Pike's sales pitch. For Kirk, any planet was a prison; a callback to Tarsus IV and the horrors he had witnessed as well as survived. McCoy still didn't know a tenth of it, and doubted he ever would.
"Ah, nay." Scotty shook his head. "A planet is only good for shore leave. I need a ship."
"Well, then let me offer you a ship," Pike said smugly. He flipped a switch on the console that integrated into the table; the viewscreen in the wall that had so far shown nothing but an image of the surrounding space at warp, now showed a ship hanging in space and slowly rotating on his y-axis.
It was the same model as the Independence — a saucer section with two nacelles — and that's how far McCoy's ship expertise went. By the expression of Scotty's face, he assumed the ship had some inner qualities as well, qualities that Scotty had already fallen in love with from his short stint on the Independence.
Kirk was another matter: his face didn't betray anything.
"How fast can she go?" Scotty was at the edge of his seat.
"Warp six," Pike said proudly. "In an emergency, even warp seven."
"Warp seven," Scotty repeated, awe-struck.
McCoy leaned back, while Pike began to rattle down a long list of tech specifications — weapons, acceleration, number of shuttlecraft... He only flinched once when transporter rooms were mentioned.
Mostly, though, he was tuning them all out to test the idea of a permanent exile on a pleasure planet in his mind. He'd even be able to practice as a surgeon, if he was so inclined. Retire to a bar after work and listen to the bongo players, or whatever kind of music they had there. It sounded like the perfect retirement.
Except he couldn't see it.
All he could see was him sitting in a bar drinking, thinking of the daughter the Romulans had stolen from him when she was five years old, drinking some more and wondering what they had done to her... were doing to her... were they turning her into another version of Rand? What had they seen in his little girl that they wanted to exploit?
It would be just another exile with him slowly drinking himself to death. The scenery didn't matter one bit.
"We'd like to recruit you, Kirk," Pike's voice filtered back into his consciousness. "We've been watching you for a while now; it's no coincidence you were chosen for this mission. Of course we'll expect you to carry out the missions we give you, and not take your shiny new ship and run — or the Empire will have to be informed that you're not as dead yet as it had appeared..."
He and Kirk smiled at each other in perfect understanding.
"... but you'd have vast discretionary powers out there," Pike continued. "You'll basically be your own authority, simply because we can't breathe down the neck of every one of our operatives. It's the nature of the beast. And although the whole crew complement will be a bit over four hundred people, you'll get to hand-pick your command crew. So, what do you say?"
Kirk didn't answer immediately. In fact, he put on a whole show of leaning back in his seat, pursing his lips, being deep in thought, weighing his options...
Scotty was the first who couldn't take it any longer. "I'll be your chief engineer, of course," he poked.
McCoy took his cue. "And I'm your CMO. Believe me, you'll need me." He nodded at Chapel. "Head Nurse."
"I'm not a nurse," she shot back automatically. Her eyes wandered again and again to Spock, who probably genuinely didn't notice.
"BioSciences," McCoy reminded her. "We'll stumble upon a new virus every week out there. You can write a paper for each of them, and synthesize new drugs to treat exotic diseases while you're at it. And who knows what or who else we'll find while we're gallivanting 'round the quadrant..."
That got him a really, now? glance from her, but she shrugged and said, "Alright, I'm in."
"I can pilot your ship, Keptin!" Chekov leaned forward, anxious not to be forgotten in the roll call. "And Sulu can man the weapons station."
"Chief of security," Sulu laughed. "I'm not accepting anything below that, and the pay that goes with it." The last bit was directed at Pike, who simply shrugged.
McCoy raised his brows. "We get paid?"
"Of course you'll get paid," Pike said. "We're not just preparing for the liberation of our respective species 24/7, we also accept missions from third parties. Paying customers. Ships like these don't build themselves. Speaking of which," he turned to Kirk, "I'd very much like to recommend Miss Rand here as your yeoman. Believe me, herding four hundred people involves a lot more administrative work than a two-man crew does. You'll be grateful to have someone take care of puzzling out the rotating crew rosters, evaluating performance, filtering all those urgent dispatches from command... ask me how I know."
"Oh, I'd be such an asset to you," Rand said eagerly. "I have a perfect memory, and they always called me Miss Efficient!"
McCoy refrained from asking who back on Ch'Rihan had come up with that honorific, and for what, considering the organisation she had worked for then. The awkward silence that had descended told him that everyone's thoughts were pondering that question now anyway.
And suddenly he had enough of this game.
"My God, Jim, say something!" he exploded. "After basically everyone has signed up to you!"
Kirk was still wearing that slight smile, although he was now rubbing his finger across his lips as if to hide it. His gaze slid to Spock. "I'd still need a first officer."
This was greeted with another raised brow. "I am surprised you would accept a Romulan as a crew member."
Kirk snorted. "You're no more Romulan than I am. As long as we're clear who's the captain and who's the XO, I'll gladly use your insider knowledge about our lords and masters."
Spock considered that for a moment; if he suspected that Kirk would also enjoy lording it over one of his former lords and masters — his claim that Spock was a lot more Vulcan than Romulan, despite the Empire's efforts to erase the culture of their conquered cousins, notwithstanding — he didn't let it show.
"Very well," he said at last. "Provided that central command has no other plans for me, I'd be willing to serve under your command." He leaned back and steepled his fingers. "It would be a fascinating study."
"Great," McCoy muttered. "We're to be the lab rats in his private study project."
"Deal," Kirk said. "This should be interesting." He studiously ignored McCoy's glare in his direction.
"It seems to me you forgot something very important," Uhura's melodic voice interrupted the staring contest between Kirk and Spock.
Kirk turned to her with a smile. "Indeed I have. My apologies, Miss Uhura."
She smiled, but although she was addressing Kirk, her eyes were solely on Spock, McCoy noted with interest. "You not only need someone to open a channel to other ships; you also need someone who can break through enemy ships' encryption to listen in to their conversations, or to mask our own signature when we approach ships or space stations in Imperial space. And what if we make first contact with an unknown civilization? Who would establish communication with them?"
Spock cleared his throat. "I can confirm that Miss Uhura is exceptionally gifted in both encryption and decryption, as well as in linguistics and music."
"Music?" It seemed a bit incongruous to add to this list.
"She is an accomplished singer," Spock said. He, too, didn't take his eyes off her. McCoy wondered what kind of connection they had. Of course they could've known each other from working for the same cause...
"Seems you have no choice but to assume command," Pike needled Kirk. "Or they'll all just take off without you."
"No, we can't have that," Kirk smiled. "Like you said, someone has to herd them."
Of course he'd accept the ship instead of the planet. Although McCoy still wasn't sure if he didn't plan to take the ship and run.
Pike rose and saluted him with a smile. "We'll have a proper ceremony when we arrive, but let me congratulate you in advance for taking command of the RSS Intrepid—"
Kirk's hand stopped halfway to his brow. "Oh. Oh, no, no. Her name's not Intrepid." His smile was unwavering, implacable.
"I'm taking command of the Enterprise."
These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its ongoing mission: to seek out new allies and new resources; to bring hope for a future in freedom and dignity to the subjects of the Empire.
To boldly go where no man has dared to go before.