| Chapter 5 - "Precious Pearls" The hours that followed were tedious. Sweat poured from Jim as he and the engineer wedged themselves inside the small passage and worked on the circuitry. A couple of times Jim felt his stomach rumble. Bones was right; he needed to eat, but just the bite he had taken from the muffin earlier had almost made him retch. It wasn't the taste, but the emotions swirling within him, emotions that he no longer had an outlet to release, that made swallowing almost impossible. As much as he hated to admit it, McCoy was right, and even his former lover didn't know the full extent of the torment that Jim's nights had become. Then, from below, they heard, “Kirk, I will speak with you.” A look of surprise was exchanged between Jim and his chief engineer. "A moment, Ambassador Sarek," he called down. "Scotty, will you be okay on your own for a few minutes?" “Aye, sir. I’ve done just about all I can with this section anyway. If ye want the controls redirected to the helm, then we have'ta move up there and work it backwards t'here. Just as I suspected, even the environmental system is channeled through the weapons computer, and I dinna dare make any adjustments until we redirect it from the bridge. I dinna think ye want t'fire off a photon torpedo every time ye adjust the oxygen level.” “No, Mr. Scott, I’d prefer a better alternative,” Jim said, as he pushed himself out of the passage. He grabbed a rag and wiped his face and hands. One thing he had discovered, the Klingons certainly didn’t believe in running a tidy ship. "Why don't you get the rest of the crew and break for lunch. I'll meet you on the bridge in a bit and we'll get on it," he called up the passage. In the back of his mind he knew this suggestion would serve two purposes; get the midday meal out of the way, and, if McCoy was still on the ship, he would have an excuse for not having to pretend to eat in front of him. Turning his attention to Sarek, he asked, “Ambassador, what can I do for you?” He noticed how out of place Spock’s father was on this ship. The opulent robe certainly didn’t fit in with the less-than-pristine conditions surrounding them. “A moment of your time, privately, if I may, Admiral.” To Jim, it sounded more like an order than a request, but he decided not to press the point. He shrugged and looked around. "Certainly, but the ship doesn't afford us much privacy. We can go outside, if you like." "That will be satisfactory," Sarek replied as he turned and headed down the twisting corridors toward the exit. Swooping his robe to the side, Sarek descended the ladder, navigating each crossbar with grace. Once he was out of the way, Jim turned, grasped the outside of each side rail and, in one fluid motion, slid down the ladder after him. The day was hot and exposure to the heat of the mid-day Vulcan sun was something they all tried to avoid. Scotty had the Bird of Prey set so it would circulate the air, if not substantially cool it, and the protection the ship afforded against the harsh rays was welcome, even if the unusual odors were not. Jim swiped his thumb across his forehead to remove the moisture that had formed there. "Ambassador, what is it that you want to discuss with me that can't be said in front of my crew?" Jim knew his voice sounded more agitated than it should, but the weeks of exile were beginning to play on all of them. Too, being drawn away from his main goal, even for a few minutes, always caused him distress. He had to remind himself that Sarek wasn't the reason for their exile, or for Spock's condition. He alone could be blamed for that. And, as much as he had pushed Bones to see Sarek, it was obvious that Sarek had kept his promise. Their future was uncertain, and in the weeks since they had become marooned here, Jim knew the Vulcan government had declined repeated demands from the Federation that they be turned over. The Vulcans, grateful for the return of one they held in such high esteem, had made sure they had all of the supplies they needed to make their stay here as comfortable as possible. Jim had resented this at first, but had relented, knowing that it would help them get the ship in a condition to be turned over that much quicker. As for Sarek, they had actually seen very little of him since the refusion ceremony. It was as if he was making a concerted effort to avoid the crew, but Jim was well aware of the reasons for this. His being here now couldn't be good news. "Kirk, The Vulcan High Council has asked me to speak with you regarding a matter of urgency." 'So,' Jim thought, 'a decision had been made.' He nodded. He'd been expecting this. He knew the Vulcans couldn't hold out forever against the Federation's demands. Starfleet carried a lot of weight within the Federation, too much to be ignored. His plan may have to be put into action before he was ready, but if that was the case, so be it. "And that is?" he asked, expecting the worst. "There is a situation which has arisen on La'ishi." "La'ishi?" Jim asked with surprise. "You're not here to tell me the Vulcans have decided to hand us over?" "Hand you over? Ah...you mean turn you over to Starfleet. No. As I have stated previously, the Vulcan government is in full support of you and your crew. In this matter, we will not submit to pressure, no matter the source." Jim breathed a sigh of relief. He still had time. It wasn't that he wanted their current situation to continue any longer than was necessary; Vulcan was not where he saw himself spending the rest of his life. But having to fight for his crews' exoneration from a mining colony on some prison planet wouldn't give him the best advantage. Certainly not when the ship he was going to use as a bargaining tool was getting closer to being ready. The Bird of Prey played an important role in the negotiations he had planned. "So, what's this about La'ishi? If memory serves, that's a Vulcan outpost set up at the rim of the Omega Quadrant for the purpose of studying gravitational phenomena." Sarek arched an eyebrow in subtle amazement. "There are few in the galaxy who know of this research facility. You, of course, are correct. The Klingons are holding fourteen of our scientists hostage there. They are demanding that the prisoner, Maltz, be turned over unharmed within the next three Standard days. If he is not, they will begin executing the hostages at a rate of one per hour until their demands are met, or all the scientists are dead." "Maltz? Is he still on Vulcan? I assumed he had been handed over to the Federation weeks ago." "The Federation has refused to take charge of this prisoner. It seems their cooperation ended when we declined their request to turn over the Starfleet renegades." "Refused? Why would our self-imposed exile preclude them from taking charge of Maltz?" "Their reasoning is that if they were to take jurisdiction over the prisoner, they could not formally charge him since those who would speak against him are unavailable and considered criminals themselves. Therefore, the Klingon Empire could accuse them of holding a hostage." "God! I hadn't even considered that. But why hasn't the Federation responded to the threat on La'ishi?" "We have yet to ask for assistance. Given certain pressures that Starfleet is now placing on the Federation, it is our judgment that military assistance would be refused. La'ishi is located in what has become disputed territory. Our team was in preparation to evacuate this outpost when the takeover occurred. There is little possibility that anything other than an attempt at diplomatic negotiation would occur, therefore assuring the death of the hostages." Jim ran his hand through his hair. "Jesus Christ, Sarek! I'm sorry. I had no idea we were going to put you in this kind of position." "There is no apology required. As I have stated, we normally do not submit to such pressure, and to compromise with terrorists is not the Vulcan way. However, in considering our options, it seems that to comply with the Klingons request is logical. Since the Federation has refused to take control of the prisoner, our alternatives regarding him have become limited. Under the laws of the Federation, and since this incident in which he was involved did not take place in Vulcan territory, we do not have the right to place him on trial. It has become the opinion among many on the High Council that to continue to imprison him without benefit of a trial is unjust. It has been decided that if we comply with the Klingon's demands, there is at least the potential for saving the scientists. However, since he is your capture, the decision must be left to you." "My decision? Is there any doubt? No question about it, I agree to the exchange. He wasn't the instigator of the attack, merely one of Krug's soldiers. Personally, I have no desire to see him go unpunished, but I know my feelings are coming purely from an emotional standpoint. What can I do to help?" "It has been decided that if you do give permission, a science shuttle with warp capabilities will be used to transport the prisoner to the orbit surrounding La'ishi, where it will rendezvous with the Klingon ship, as instructed. Although we hope that this transfer can be accomplished peacefully, we are aware that our team may be met with force. Since the days when we joined the Federation, our fleet has become quite small and dedicated mainly to the sciences. Those who have volunteered to crew this mission have had no experience in dealing with hostile forces. We ask for your assistance in briefing those members of the High Command preparing for this undertaking." Jim watched the proud man standing before him, and he knew what it had taken for him, and the leaders of the High Council, to make such a request. They were caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. But neither could he believe what he was hearing. "Let me see if I have this straight. Your government wants to send a team off to La'ishi to turn over the Klingon and, therefore, rescue the scientists held hostage there. You plan on taking one of your shuttles, a ship not set up for confrontation, into one of the hottest spots in the galaxy. The Federation would refuse any assistance because you are harboring fugitives they want turned over. And you want me to brief those unaccustomed to confrontation just in case a small interstellar war breaks out. Have I got the full picture?" "I believe your understanding of the situation is accurate, although tinged with undue emotionalism." "Undue?" Jim choked. "To take an ill-prepared ship into the middle of something like this? To send a crew that's completely inexperienced in dealing with hostile forces to rendezvous with a Klingon vessel? Sarek, remember, I've dealt with Klingons before. What you're suggesting is a death sentence for all involved. Forgive me if this whole idea makes me quite emotional." Jim drew a deep, hot breath as he tried to stem the 'undue emotionalism' he felt building inside. There were people in trouble, and Jim knew they were the reason why. He couldn’t turn his back on them. If there was going to be a crew put at risk, it was going to be a crew capable of handling the situation. "Sarek," Jim continued, somewhat calmer. "I'll do everything I can to help, but not the way this has been laid out. I can't allow anyone else to take this chance." Indicating the Bounty with his thumb, he added, "This crew will handle the transfer." "Kirk, the Klingons have stipulated that no more than two are allowed to accompany the prisoner. We are not prepared to ask any members of your crew to subject themselves to such a mission. The possibility of danger is only outweighed by the probability of your capture should you leave the planet." "Only two? Damn! Well, we'll have to deal with that. Sarek, as far as being captured is concerned, my goose is already cooked. I can't allow a Vulcan team to take on something like this--especially not one unaccustomed to encountering the Klingon race. Not when I created the situation in the first place. I have a long history in dealing with them. They wouldn't be Klingons if they didn't try to throw you some curves and take full advantage of the situation. You can't trust them. You need people handling this who know what to expect." Sarek nodded. "I am not certain how the culinary preparation of Terran foul is involved, however, I accept the logic of your statement. I will contact the High Council with your offer." "Do you think they're going to refuse to let us help?" "No, I do not. Your offer will be received with appreciation." "It sounds like time is of the essence. If you'll advise your people of our plan, I’ll get with Mr. Scott regarding preparation of the shuttle. Can you have it brought around so he can work on it? If I know my chief engineer, he won't be happy until he's made some upgrades to it." Sarek nodded. "Yes, that can be arranged. I will make sure it is delivered here immediately." "Good. Of course we'll need maps of the planet and the specs for the outpost. You'll need to furnish us with the tie-in channels for all of their communication links, including those used in the message received from the Klingons. Get the prisoner ready for transport. There's a member of my crew who has several years experience in the security forces, so he'll be the one accompanying me." "All that you require will be furnished." "Sarek, you know the Klingons won't cooperate at all if they find out it's me onboard. Any chance of creating a comm disk that will make it at least appear that we're Vulcans? If we can disguise our identity for the transfer, I'm sure Leonard McCoy will be able to come up with something that will keep Maltz from talking--at least long enough for us to make the exchange and get away." "We can create a disk that will make it appear that it is a Vulcan crew onboard to any who are curious, including the Klingons. Is there anything else you require?" Jim nodded. "Just one thing. Can you figure out a way to get us off the planet undetected? Perhaps a diversion of some kind that will draw the prying eyes of the patrol ships in the area?" "It will be arranged. Kirk, your willingness to subject yourself to these risks is commendable." "Just unfinished business," Jim sighed. "Very well," Sarek conceded, as he turned and left. Jim propelled himself up the ramp to the main level of the bridge and tapped the button on the comm unit to open a ship-wide channel. "I need everyone to come to the bridge," he announced. Uhura was the first to appear from the floor-hatch where she had spent the morning working on the communications system. It was only a moment before he heard the others approaching. Scotty and Sulu were the first to step through the passage. "Scotty," Jim addressed his right-hand man. "The Vulcans are bringing a shuttle along side in the next few minutes. I need you to get it prepared to depart the planet within the hour." "Sair? Are we leaving? Are we being sent back to Earth?" Chekov asked as he walked onto the bridge followed by Leonard McCoy. "No, nothing like that. A Vulcan outpost has been taken hostage by the Klingons, and they are demanding the return of the prisoner, Maltz. We are going to exchange him for the release of those Vulcans on La'ishi, a scientific community in the Omega Quadrant." "Jim, are you crazy?" Leonard asked as he pushed to the front of the group. "Don't you realize that every bounty hunter in the galaxy is looking for us? Not to mention the small fact that you're not exactly going to be commended for heroism if the Klingons happen to get their hands on you!" "Bones, there are fourteen Vulcans who are being held hostage. I know the risks of this mission, but their only other option was to send a team that's never come up against the Klingons. I couldn't stand by and let them send their people off on a suicide mission, not when it was our problem to start with." Leonard stared at him for a moment, but soon backed down. "Well, if you're willing to take on a fool's mission, I'd better be there to pick up the pieces! I'll get started putting a sickbay together. If I know you, we're gonna need it." "It's not that easy, Bones. The Klingons have stipulated that only two are allowed to accompany the prisoner. I'll be going, and I need someone who has security experience to guard the prisoner. Mr. Chekov, I hate to ask you, but you are the one I'm going to need to accompany me." "Aye, sair, I'm ready," Chekov answered, not even a hint of hesitation apparent in his voice. "Thank you, Commander," Jim replied. "Bones, I do need you to prepare a tranquilizer, preferable a heavy one that I can administer to the prisoner before I transport him. I don't need him revealing who's onboard the shuttle too soon." "Not a problem. Everything I need is in the lab at the VSA. I'll make sure he's out for hours." "Nothing that will injure him, Bones. One stipulation to releasing the scientists is that he's returned unharmed." "I promise, Jim. The stuff I'm gonna give you will have him sleeping like a baby, and he'll have nothing more than a headache when he wakes up." "Sounds good. Get to it," Jim smiled as Leonard left the bridge. "Uhura, how long before you can tie in the shuttle to the comm board here?" "No more than a few minutes, Admiral." "Good. Uhura, I need either you or Sulu monitoring us at all times. Scotty, I know this ship's in pieces, but if we run into trouble out there..." "Aye, Admiral! At the first sign of trouble, we'll be underway." "Only on my signal, Mr. Scott." Jim had no intention of bringing the rest of the crew into this unless it meant the hostages were in danger, and not even then if the odds were too great. "Aye, sir," Scott sighed. "Mr. Sulu, you'll be in charge in my absence." "Certainly, Admiral," Sulu replied. "You can count on me, sir," he assured Kirk. "Thank you, Mr. Sulu. The Vulcans are planning something that should get us off the planet unnoticed, and recording a chip that will respond as if we were Vulcan scientists. Any other communications will be between this station," he motioned toward the comm station on the ship, "and the shuttle. And then only if absolutely necessary." "Yes, sir," his now senior officer replied. Looking down, Jim realized the shape he was in. "I'm going to get cleaned up. Mr. Chekov, I recommend you do the same. Mr. Sulu, would you care to pilot Commander Chekov to his quarters so he can get his gear?" "Certainly, Admiral," Sulu turned, but then turned back. "Thank you," he added. "One hour, gentlemen. We leave in *exactly* one hour." "Aye, Admiral!" Pavel replied. Chapter 6 Jim headed for the deck where he had been living these last weeks. He knew that Pavel was as good a pilot as any, but giving Chekov and Sulu a few minutes alone was the least he could do since he'd given Pavel little choice of this assignment. After all, the two men hadn't exactly had a quiet time of it since their reunion. Kirk was determined that someday they would get their chance, one way or another, he would see to it. After a run through the sonics, Jim combed his fingers through his hair, wrapped a towel around his waist, and began stuffing everything he would need for the next few days into a rucksack. Pausing in the middle of his preparations, he walked to the shelf above the terminal. Reaching behind the other data chips stacked there, he stretched his fingers until he retrieved one that had been hidden away. Pulling it from its hiding place, he plugged it into the terminal. Keying up the console, he stated; "From James T. Kirk to Montgomery Scott. In the event of my death, there is a chip on my terminal that is to be played for the crew and then forwarded to the Chief of Starfleet Command. All orders are to be followed exactly as they are laid out." He keyed the time stamp and arranged for it to be delivered in thirty-eight hours. He calculated that by then either their prisoner would have been delivered and the 'all clear' message would have been received, or he would be dead. If it was the latter, he had to make sure the Bird of Prey was dispatched to pick up the one passenger that would be waiting before heading for Earth. Satisfied that all was in order, he resumed his preparation. A rapping at the bulkhead door stopped his progress. ************************* Leonard McCoy had beamed directly from the transport station at the base of Mount Seleya to the station in the center of the VSA. With deft determination he headed for the lab where he knew he could prepare the sedative Jim requested. Looking around, he noticed Sirran standing close by. He was a young, bright Vulcan who had taken a keen interest in McCoy's work these last weeks. He had become, for all intents and purposes, Leonard's assistant. Calling him over, McCoy started giving him a list of the drugs he would need. He ordered up Cyclovinate, Etelaxin, and a variety of other combinable muscle relaxers and narcotics. Sirran arched his eyebrows and looked at him curiously, it was a look Leonard was used to receiving from the young man, but he went right to work gathering the items requested. Once he had everything, he laid out the ingredients in a straight, perfectly spaced line in the precise order that Leonard had rattled off. As was often the case with the young man, it was an impressive display. Glad that he'd spent the last weeks studying the Klingon physiology, Leonard felt confident in the fact that he could calculate a mixture that would serve Jim's purpose. His faith that the mission itself would be successful was a different thing entirely. He worked quickly, hoping he would have time to speak with Jim alone before they headed off. There were some things that needed clearing up between them, and Leonard wasn't going to take any chances, just in case. Reaching for an air-syringe kit, he began to measure specific amounts of the drugs into an empty cartridge until he was satisfied with the formula. McCoy carefully placed the cartridge into the syringe then filled an extra cylinder and placed both the readied syringe and the extra cartridge into a case and snapped it shut. Turning to Sirran, he said, "That should do the trick. This concoction should knock even a Klingon on his ass in a matter of seconds." Knitting his eyebrows together, Sirran asked, "Is that the effect you are wishing for, Doctor McCoy?" McCoy had to grin at the kid. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, that's exactly the effect that I'm hoping for." "Then in that case, I, too, hope this potion will knock a Klingon on his ass, sir." Leonard chuckled as he turned to leave. "You know, Sirran, there just might be hope for you yet!" he muttered, exiting the lab. Beaming back to the transport center, he noticed the warp-shuttle had arrived and there was a flurry of activity that seemed to be taking place around it. He dashed up the open ramp that led to the interior of the Bird of Prey and headed for the cabin that Jim had claimed as his own. Out of habit he almost opened the door and went straight in, but realized that the two of them didn't have that kind of relationship anymore. Old habits were hard to break. McCoy brought his hand up, slapped the metal door a couple of times, and waited to hear a response. "Come," he heard from the other side of the door. "I'd love to," McCoy muttered under his breath before palming the control that would allow him entry. Once the door slid open, Leonard stepped into the room. The sight of Jim standing in front of the storage unit wearing only a towel was enough to make him momentarily forget his reason for being there. God! The man could still affect him in ways that should be illegal! "Is that the tranquilizer?" Jim asked, motioning toward the case that Leonard was clutching in his hand. Drawing a quick breath, McCoy reluctantly turned his attention back to the case in his hand. "Yeah, it's preset with the correct dose. Just get it into either the neck, wrist, or ankle area. It will take effect in a few seconds and should last for about four hours. Even once he comes out of it, he won't be making much sense for another couple of hours. That should give you plenty of time to make sure the hostages have been released and still be able to high-tail it outta there before the Klingons become the wiser." Leonard was glad to see Jim stop his preparation and pay close attention to his instructions. This mission, as well as Jim and Chekov's safe return, depended on it. "Thanks, Bones," Jim nodded, and held out his hand. When Leonard stepped in and placed the container in Jim's hand, their fingers touched. That was all it took for a shiver of concern, anxiety, and yes...desire, to race through McCoy. There was a moment of hesitation before Jim started to turn away. Before he had the chance, Leonard grasped Jim's hand within his own, tighter than he intended, causing Jim to turn back toward him quickly. Their eyes met. "Jim..." McCoy breathed, then reached for Jim's other arm and pulled him close. "Bones, I..." Jim whispered, but Leonard never gave him a chance to finish before he had captured Jim's mouth with his own. The sweet, succulent mouth responded, and Jim's arms folded around him. Leonard felt his mind spinning with the dizzying feel of his lover against him. His arms clutched the nude torso in a fierce embrace; his hands caressed the flesh up and down the bare back, wanting to feel all of him at once. But as quickly as it had begun, Leonard felt the arms that were encasing him relax and felt the grip of strong hands on his biceps, pulling them apart. "Bones, don't...don't do this! I don't want to hurt you, but I can't let anyone to get close...not you...not now...not ever again." Jim panted. "Don't you understand?" "No," Leonard choked. "No…no, I don't understand. I only know that you're headed off to face God only know what, and I need you to know that I love you." "I do know...and I wish you could get past it. You're right, Bones. There's no telling what we are going to face out there. But even if this goes off without a hitch, it's nothing compared to the changes we're all going to have to face in the months to come. The Vulcan's aren't going to be able to hold out forever against the Federation, this situation with Maltz proves that. I don't know what's going to happen, but even if we remain here, I can't feel for you what I used to." Jim dropped his arm and stepped back, placing some distance between them. "Why?" Leonard heard the pleading in his voice. He didn't care. He would lower himself to begging. Any self-esteem he had ever hoped to have was gone now anyway. "Please, Jim, you know what we've had. Why are you so determined to push me away?" "Because that's how it has to be," Jim answered, his voice growing cold. "Because that's how I want it to be." Leonard didn't know what the hell was wrong with Jim lately, but in that moment when those golden arms had closed around him, his lover had wanted him. He was certain of it. Then again, he'd been mistaken about a lot of things recently. "That's not an answer, goddammit!" he shot back. "It's all the answer I have. Bones, I don't want to insult you, but there are things I must do to get ready. Leave...please, just leave." Leonard stood there and watched Jim as he breathed heavily. There was no glimmer of passion behind those cold, gray-green eyes. Leonard felt himself trembling inside. He wanted to scream, to cry, to pound his fists against the bulkhead wall, but he did none of those things. Instead he steeled himself, drawing himself up to his full height, and looked Jim dead in the eyes. "If that's what you want, so be it!" he rasped. It took all the fortitude Leonard could muster to turn and leave. Walking blindly, he headed for the ramp that led outside. He felt the need to leave the ship, and especially Jim, behind. Reaching the landing pad, he watched the flurry of activity around the shuttle as it was being prepared. It certainly wasn't as large as the Bounty. As a matter of fact, it looked to Leonard to be not much bigger than the shuttle they had been using on the planet. He wondered how in the hell two men were supposed to cross almost two quadrants, come head on with a Klingon ship, and be expected to return safely in a ship that small. Scotty was busy on the underside, muttering to himself while attaching some type of tracking device he had invented. If Leonard was hearing him right, he wasn't the only one who had his doubts about Jim and Chekov going off alone on such a mission. Well, McCoy decided, he could at least make sure all the medical equipment was onboard and at the ready. Grabbing onto the handles on either side of the hatch, he pulled himself into the shuttle where he found himself nearly nose-to-nose with Sarek. Although Sarek made no indication of surprise, actually showed no expression of any kind, Leonard was certain that the look on his own face made it quite clear that he wasn't expecting such an encounter. "Doctor," Sarek greeted him stoically. McCoy's first reaction had been to back out the same way he came. And, had he been able to move, he might have done just that. "Sarek!" Leonard's voice reflected his surprise. "What are you doing onboard?" he asked. "Your Mr. Scott wanted to make sure the communications channel was functioning between the shuttle and the ship. Since I was the only one unoccupied, I offered to assist him. I was testing the link with Commander Uhura from her position onboard the Bird of Prey. Also, I wanted to make sure the holding facility is adequate to restrain the prisoner." Leonard managed a quick glance towards the back of the ship. There had been a section enclosed with a portable force field and a plex chamber. "Is it? Is he onboard?" "Quite adequate, and the prisoner has not yet been delivered. A security team is transporting him." Leonard hoped Sarek was right. A lot depended on the security of that area. "I wanna check out the medical equipment. Not that it's gonna help if the Klingons get their hands on them." "You do not agree with this mission, I presume." Leonard couldn't help but react to the sound of Sarek's voice, and knew he didn't need this kind of emotional conflict, certainly not after the scene that had just played out in Jim's cabin. Studying the face just inches away, it was impossible to read how their impromptu meeting was affecting Sarek. He certainly had his Vulcan facade tightly in place. "Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't agree with the cause, but I think sending two men out there with little protection is too risky. God knows we've seen all too well what the Klingons are capable of! To gamble their lives on something as haphazard as illusion and chicanery is insane! And let's not forget that Jim's head would make a fine trophy on some Klingon's mantel!" Arching an eyebrow at McCoy's diatribe, Sarek replied, "All possible precautions have been taken. However, I understand your reason for distress. You find it difficult to see your inamorato place himself in danger." "Boy, do you have a wrong number!" Leonard spat before he could stop himself. "A wrong number, Doctor? I do not understand the reference. Are you suggesting that I am incorrect in some manner?" "You? Incorrect? No! Hell, no! Not you, and certainly not Jim! I seem to be the only one with a patent on that, lately." "In what way have you been wrong?" Sarek asked. Leonard knew his feelings were hovering too close to the surface. If Jim was right, and Sarek did have feelings for him, he sure wasn't ready to deal with the consequences. And, God forbid, if Jim was wrong, then one more round of rejection was about all it would take to send him to the funny farm for sure! He knew he'd already said too much. Damn his big mouth! "Nothing more than just concern," he shrugged. But before Sarek could ask any more questions, Leonard passed the regal Vulcan and stepped toward the small, compartmentalized area located in the middle of the shuttle. "Like I said, I need to get the medical equipment checked out," he said, hoping that Sarek would take the hint and leave him alone. The medical facilities were hardly lavish, consisting of only a small counter with drawers below and two cabinets above. To even work at the station took standing in the middle of the aisle that was barely wide enough for two people to pass. There were a total of four passenger seats, two on either side just behind the pilot and co-pilot positions. Those behind the co-pilot's position could be reclined and joined together to form a stretcher, which could then be attached by cable to the medical station, creating a makeshift bio-bed. Just behind those seats was where the head was located. Glancing inside, McCoy calculated that it was *almost* big enough to turn around in. On the opposite side of the aisle, and just in front of the medical cabinets, there were two other passenger seats. Located above them was a bunk that folded against the bulkhead and could be lowered, allowing a place for rest. However, unless the occupants were quite friendly, only one at a time would fit comfortable on the bunk. Space was certainly at a minimum on the small shuttle. But since the only passenger on this trip, other than the two-man crew, was going to be confined, he gave it no further consideration. Stepping to the medical station, Leonard began opening each of the drawers. All the while, he could feel Sarek's eyes fixed on him. For a moment, McCoy thought that Sarek was going to follow, and the idea of being that close scared the hell out of him. Thankfully, the Vulcan exited the shuttle and Leonard felt himself relaxed a bit. However, his hands were shaking so badly that he could barely grasp the instruments as he assured himself that everything was in working order. He knew that something had to give. Between his nightmare-ridden attempts at sleep, and the emotional roller coaster he'd been on these last weeks, he knew it wasn't going to take much to push him over the edge. He told himself that he only had to hold it together for another four days. After that, he would go out in the desert, find a nice secluded area, and let himself have the nervous breakdown he so justly deserved. To hell with Jim, to hell with Sarek, and to hell with that damned ship! Gratefully, a period of uninterrupted activity began, taking McCoy's mind off his own problems and centering them back on the mission. Their private shuttle arrived and Pavel, who seemed to be running on pure adrenaline, tossed his travel bag into the warp-shuttle and leaped in behind it. Chekov acknowledged the doctor's presence with nothing more than a nod and a quick smile as he went to work. He inspected the weapons locker, pulled out a phaser, checked it, and secured it underneath the control panel in the front. McCoy watched as Pavel then slid past him and checked the containment chamber, and seemed to assure himself that it was satisfactory. Once that was done, he went back to the control panel, ran through the pre-flight check, and then powered up the shuttle. While McCoy finished his thorough examination of the medical equipment, he kept a keen eye on Chekov. It was the first time since the Russian had rejoined the crew that Leonard had taken the time to really observe the officer. The assuredness and conviction that the man elicited with each task was indicative of someone confident and capable. For some reason, this took the doctor by surprise. It wasn't that Chekov had ever been a slacker in any way, even in his younger days, but he had always seemed to be a follower, not a leader. That description didn't fit the man he was watching now. McCoy realized that this sure wasn't the same kid that he'd known years before. The security team beamed over with the prisoner, and all crew, other than Chekov and the three Vulcans accompanying Maltz, were evacuated from the immediate area until the Klingon was firmly secured in the makeshift brig. McCoy almost felt a pang of sympathy as the Klingon was led past them. It seemed that he was as much a pawn in this as any of them. Jim exited the Bounty, the straps of his pack slung over his shoulder, the small container that Bones had given him earlier clutched in his fist. When Jim came to the spot where Leonard was standing, he paused. Leonard found himself staring into the hazel eyes. Jim parted his lips, as if he were going to say something, but then closed them again. Finally, it was Leonard who spoke. "Be careful out there," was all he could manage. "We will," Jim replied. "You have the injection?" Leonard asked. "Yeah, right here," Jim held up the container. "And you remember how to use it?" Leonard asked, never the one to leave anything up to chance when he didn't have to. "Yeah. Neck, wrist, or ankle, right?" Leonard nodded. "Yeah, the full dose. It's preset, and there's an extra cartridge in the container, just in case." "Understood," Jim acknowledged. "Bones...see you in four days." Leonard started to answer, but Jim had already moved off and climbed into the shuttle. "God's speed," Leonard whispered around the lump in his throat. With no more ceremony than that, the shuttle door slid closed and the hiss of the air-lock sounded as it was sealed. Leonard looked around. Only he and Sulu stood on the landing pad. He knew Uhura was inside manning the comm station, and he had no doubt that Scotty had already turned his attention back to the engines on the Bird of Prey in case a rescue was called for. Sarek had disappeared completely. The boosters on the shuttle began to lift the small craft, and red dust began to fly. Leonard noticed Sulu walking up the ramp and back into the ship. This had to be hard on him, yet McCoy was sure he would never show it. There were few who possessed the strength of will that that man did. McCoy was quite sure that some day, if he'd been given the chance, that man would've made a find commander. Chapter 7 When Kirk entered the shuttle, Chekov turned over the pilot's seat to him. Pavel knew that on this mission his primary duties were to take charge of the prisoner and follow his commander's orders, both tasks that came as second nature to him. Besides, he knew a commander belonged at the controls, even on a ship this small. Once Maltz had been brought onboard, Pavel had made certain that the Klingon was confined quite securely. As Kirk powered up the shuttle to leave, Pavel took his place in the co-pilot position. Almost immediately they received a transmission from the Bird of Prey. Keying the 'receive' button on the comm unit, Pavel replied, "Aluk'cet, receiving." Aluk'cet was the translated name for 'oyster', or the closest Vulcan proximity thereof. It was the code name that Kirk had assigned their small ship. Even though they were fairly certain that the comm link between the Bird of Prey and the shuttle was secure, all transmission codes had the potential for being broken. Therefore, no names were to be used when messages were transmitted over the comm. This mission had to remain secret, everyone being as 'tight lipped as a Loch Fyne oyster,' Scotty had commented. The name had stuck. "Aluk'cet, we have word that all is clear," Uhura responded. "Aye, Bounty, we copy," Pavel replied. Simplicity was the key to not getting caught. The message meant that the diversion was in place and they were free to leave. Pavel glanced over at Kirk. His commander looked at him, gave a wink, and asked, "All set, Mr. Chekov?" "Aye, sair! Course plotted, Admiral," Pavel replied. "Very good, Commander. Now, if the Vulcans have been able to draw the attention of the patrol ships, we should have clear sailing." Kirk engaged the controls and the shuttle began to move. The thrusters created a plume of red dust that surrounded the small ship, obstructing their view out of the main portal. It was for the best. Pavel and Hikaru's good-byes had been said in private. Longing last looks would serve neither of them any good, and with any luck they would be reunited in a matter of days. Pavel set the comm unit to monitor all incoming messages. No more than seconds after the 'all clear' had been given, he began to intercept various transmissions. "Admiral," he stated, "I'm picking up Starfleet transmissions to all ships in the area. They are being ordered to converge on a Vulcan freighter at point three-six mark two. They are refusing to slow, and there is suspicion that there may be fugitives onboard. Sair, they are ordering the freighter to be detained for a board and search." "Excellent, Mr. Chekov. Lay in a path away from that location." "Aye, sair, laid in," Pavel responded, keying in the coordinates. With their eyes on the small viewscreen located between them, they watched the plume of dust fade into the landscape of the planet, and then to the distinctive red ball as they left the Vulcan atmosphere. "Aft view, Commander," Jim ordered. "Aft view on the screen, sair," Chekov responded. The red planet faded into a small orange glow. "Sair, we seem to have cleared the planet undetected," Pavel announced, finally daring to draw a full breath. "No ships are in pursuit." Jim smiled and seemed to settle back in his seat. "We can't ask for better than that. Set the viewer for interior aft view. I don't want our prisoner sneaking up on us. Commander, at best speed, what is our travel time to La'ishi?" "If we can maintain warp three, we should arrive in one point four days, Admiral," Pavel answered, as he verified his facts on the gauges located in front of him. "Sounds good," Kirk replied, with a nod. "I'm setting the scanner to 'auto' so we'll know if any ships are in the area. Warp three shouldn't draw too much attention from prying eyes, either," Jim stated, as he set various controls on the shuttle. "I'm going to check on the prisoner, sair," Pavel said as he slid from the seat. Kirk nodded his agreement, his attention on the panels in front of him. Walking the no more than ten steps that brought him to the back of the shuttle, Pavel peered inside the holding facility. Maltz was standing in the center of the corded off area, his arms crossed defiantly in front of him. "Are you all right?" Pavel asked. "Do you need anything?" "Information, Human!" the Klingon demanded. "Where are you taking me?" "You weren't told?" Chekov asked. He assumed the Vulcan guards would have informed the Klingon of his destination when they transported him. But considering that everyone associated with this mission had been ordered to secrecy, Pavel realized that they hadn't revealed that information, even to Maltz. "Would I ask those things that I know, Human?" the Klingon barked, indignantly. Taking a step toward the holding cell, yet remaining out of reach, and well out of range of the force field barrier that had been put into place, Pavel studied the prisoner carefully. It was obvious the Klingon had no idea where he was headed, and Pavel felt irritated by the fact that he'd have to be the one to inform the prisoner that he would soon be gaining his freedom. "True to form, your people are holding innocent hostages. You should be glad to know that you are being exchanged in return for their release," Pavel shot back. "What hostages?" Maltz snarled. "Vulcan scientists, people who could do you no harm. But that's the Klingon way, isn't it, Cossack? Your people *claim* to be warriors, yet you single out those who are the least threat to you to reap your savagery on. There's no honor in that," Pavel admonished. The Klingon turned away and took the few steps that took him to the farthermost corner of his cell. For a moment Pavel thought he was being dismissed, but then Maltz raised a fist and slammed it into the wall of the outer bulkhead. The action took Chekov by surprise. Turning back, Maltz asked, "Why would they agree to an exchange for me? I am from a failed mission." "Because they requested you. Because even though you killed our commander's son," Pavel nodded toward the front of the shuttle, "he would rather see you go free than see the deaths of innocent people! You were the *reason* the hostages were taken!" Pavel spat, his emotions always getting the better of him when someone had hurt Kirk, a man he idolized. Maltz head shifted downwards, even if only very slightly. All rebelliousness was gone from his voice when he answered, "You return me, but not to a life of freedom. I will not go unpunished. If they are wanting me returned, it is to set an example of failure." "What kind of example? Are you trying to convince me they will kill you?" "Perhaps, if I am lucky. Better that your captain would have killed me as he promised when he had the chance." Maltz sat down on the edge of the bunk. "Explain!" Pavel demanded, seeing something he had never considered in this race, some amount of vulnerability. He was unsure if this was sincerity or trickery that he was witnessing, but he was interested enough to try to find out. "My commander's memory will be honored as one who died in battle as a warrior. The reasons for my survival will not matter. I allowed the ship to fall into enemy hands." "You didn't exactly allow it. You were overpowered." Maltz's head jerked up. "Overpowered? Hardly! By four Human males and a Vulcan female?" Maltz seemed to gloat. "You think if I had wished to fight, that would have offered me any challenge?" "If that's true, why would you allow yourself to be captured?" Pavel asked, dubiously. The Klingon looked away. "Because my taste for death has grown cold," he sighed. "I knew if I was captured, then I, like the rest of the crew, would die a warriors death. This man Kirk said he would kill me; I was prepared. Yet you Humans have no fondness for blood." "Because we won't kill unless we have to? You fault us for not being so brutal that we would kill an unarmed person? Like the crew on the Reliant was killed? Like Admiral Kirk's son was murdered?" Pavel's voice rose as he felt his temper flare. "Brutal!" Maltz growled. "You think the death of your commander's son was brutal? It was nothing!" Maltz spat. "Do you believe this was Krug's first time for taking inferior hostages? If you do, then you are a fool! It was his way. He has slaughtered thousands. I have seen him take children and slit their throats, one by one, in front of their mothers to gain answers when none existed. I have seen him disembowel whole families until he gained an allegiance to the Empire by those left alive. There was no act that he considered too cruel if it would achieve him his goal." "You're a soldier for the Empire, you must approve of such carnage!" Pavel exclaimed in disbelief. "I do not," Maltz growled deeply. "If you disagreed with his tactics, then how could you sit back and allow it to happen? You could have taken action," Pavel countered. "What action would you have me take, Human? Do you believe the Empire is comprised of weakling do-gooders like the Federation?" Pounding his fist hard against his chest, Maltz asked, "Do you suppose that they place some shiny trinket on your chest for speaking out against your superiors? Death, or worse, is payment for disobedience. My superiors count the successes of Krug, and others like him, and see that such ways achieve their objectives without the loss of soldiers. This is why our people now take hostages like these defenseless scientists." Standing up from his seated position on the edge of the bunk and bringing himself to his full height, he continued staunchly, "I say it is cowardly! I say honor is only found when warrior meets warrior on the battlefield!" The Klingon's eyes flashed with conviction. Pavel stood silent in stunned amazement that such words would come from a Klingon. Shaking his head, Maltz turned away from Pavel and gazed upwards. "You ask me why I did nothing. I have spoken against him to those of my equal, but my words fell on deaf ears. To them, the few who have come to feel as I do, I had voiced disapproval of Krug's conduct in another matter, one which does not concern you. However, our few voices become silent when we are faced with the size of the Empire. Be assured that those who have heard my words will be forced to testify against me. No, Human, it is not the sweet taste of freedom that I shall be savoring." Pavel was beginning to suspect that the Klingon was sincere, and although he hated to admit it, a lot of what the man was saying, he agreed with. To concur with an enemy was a new experience for him, and one that he found more frightening than the hatred that had brewed so easily within him. In all the years he had been with Starfleet Security, there had been those times when he suspected he was arresting an innocent person. However, the first rule in security was not to get emotionally involved with your prisoner. In those cases, however, he had an unwavering faith in the legal system and knew that, when the time came, the facts would be heard and judged accordingly. This time he had no such feeling. It was something in the Klingon's eyes, the way they flashed when speaking of wrongs that needed to be righted. His voice, loud and clear, as if it were the first time he had dared to speak in such a manner, uttering words of wisdom that would never be heard elsewhere. It was that thought that saddened Pavel. "Klingon...Maltz," Chekov addressed the man. His voice lost the tone of authority and the pitch of concern replaced it. "There is nothing that can be done regarding your freedom. It's going to take turning you over to get the Vulcans released, and that's what we have to do." Pavel could have sworn that he saw the broad shoulders of the Klingon expand, even as he realized his fate. "Yes, I agree," Maltz turned again and looked Pavel directly in the eyes. "I will offer no resistance. I will...cooperate. How is the transfer to be handled?" "We will have to sedate you to protect our identity until the transfer has taken place. You will not be harmed. Our medical officer has prepared an injection that will only make you sleep for a few hours." "That is acceptable. However, upon awakening, I give you my word as a Klingon, I will not reveal your identity." Pavel, barely blinking, continued to stare at the man. This was so unlike any encounter he had been a part of before. He wasn't sure why, but he believed Maltz, believed him to be a man of his word. But he also knew that he couldn't allow his feelings to stand in the way of his duty. All he could do for now was to make certain their prisoner's needs were met on the way to the rendezvous. "The controls will dispense food and drink when you wish," Pavel pointed toward the buttons located above the small food replicator on the wall. The only other items in the cell were a bunk and a toilet. It wasn't luxurious by any means, nor was it meant to be, but it seemed to satisfy their prisoner's needs, and, if what Maltz said was true, probably much grander than what he was going to face once he was reunited with his people. As the Klingon nodded his understanding, Pavel started to return to the front of the shuttle, but then he paused and turned back to the man in the cell. "If you truly believe what you say, then don't let them silence you. As long as you have a voice, speak out for those things you believe in." Pavel watched as Maltz turned and looked at him, as if carefully considering his words. Not waiting for a reply, Pavel did turn and walk to the front of the small ship where he came to stand beside his commander. Kirk turned to him. "Pavel, I heard your conversation with our prisoner. You know that we have to turn him over; there's no other alternative." "Absolutely, sair!" Pavel answered adamantly. "I know my duty!" "Even when you have doubts?" Pavel became less animated and glanced down. "Even then, sair," he admitted. Jim nodded and smiled. "It's not a demon that I, myself, haven't had to wrestle with on occasion, Commander. Unfortunately, it's something that we all have to face at times," he replied. "Aye, sair," Pavel sighed. "Why don't you try to get some rest so you can take over the controls in a while," Jim offered. Pavel knew that since the trajectory of their path was programmed in, manually there was very little to be done until they had reached their destination. The sensor array would warn them of an approaching ship long before one could be detected on the scanner. Even in the event that someone did decide to check them out, the communication disk supplied by the Vulcans--making it appear that they were nothing more than Vulcan traders--should be sufficient to appease any curious onlooker who approached. But after the exchange with Maltz, Pavel was glad to get some time alone to consider all that had, seemingly, been revealed. Besides, the admiral looked more relaxed sitting in the command seat of the tiny vessel than he had since they had been reunited. Agreeing, he stepped to the two passenger seats between the pilot's position and the medical station cabinets and struggled with the catch that would release the bunk from its upright position against the bulkhead. When the bunk finally unfolded, that left only two other seats on the opposite side of the aisle that could be converted to a biobed. But since their plan was to have no visitors, it wasn't a concern. Rolling himself onto the bunk, he tried repeatedly to rest. However, his strange encounter with the Klingon precluded him from anything other than restive imaginings regarding the fate of their prisoner. Home/Next Chapters |