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indeedcaptain · 2 months

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Regulatory Relations, chapter 16: The Admiral

Hello everyone I hope you are doing well and happy April!

Wahoo, this story broke 100,000 words with this chapter! That's an insane number to think about.

Chapter warnings: graphic depictions of violence :)

Also posted on AO3 here!

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Kirk materialized on a dusty, paved track in the center of what could charitably be described as the middle of nowhere. He coughed as Spock and April materialized beside him, and they moved out of the way as the security teams appeared, one after the other.

The area of Kindinos VI that they transported to was near colorless, infinite shades of gray-brown stretching to the staggering mountains breaking the near horizon. The star that served as the center of this solar system was a pale yellow dot in a pale gray sky, and though the climate could not be classified as cold, Kirk wasn’t sure he would consider it warm, either.

It was a profoundly unfriendly planet, and as he looked around, he noted uneasily that there was no sign of the miners that had called for their aid. The land around them was uneven but for the paved road leading to the mountain to the east, rising and falling sharply in a pattern like moguls on a ski slope. The security officers unholstered their phasers, setting them to stun and creating a periphery around April, Kirk, and Spock, and the only sound except their footsteps was the familiar humming of Spock’s tricorder.

Spock frowned slightly down at the screen as he turned slowly in a circle, scanning in every direction.

“Where are we, Mr. Spock?”

“It seems as though we are in the middle of the settlement, captain,” Spock said, and he lifted his eyes from the tricorder screen to look over the rolling micro-hills of the land before them.

“But where is it?”

Spock glanced over his shoulder at Kirk, and Kirk nodded before he approached one of the hills warily. Two security officers flanked him as Kirk and April followed a few steps behind, and Spock crouched next to the crest of the hill.

He reached out and yanked on something set into the ground, and stepped back as a hatch swung open, revealing a dark hole in the ground. He looked around him curiously, and stomped his foot: the sound his heel made against the ground revealed that he was standing not on hard-packed earth, but dust-coated plex. Gesturing to one of the security officers, who pulled a flashlight from his belt and flicked it on, Spock and the officer crouched again next to the open hatch and peered down into the darkness.

The other security officers broke off in groups of three and four, knocking on the other hatches set into the ground and pulling them open. Kirk came up behind Spock and leaned over his shoulder. The security officer--- a young human woman called Jackson--- shone the flashlight down into the hole. Buried beneath the ground was a self-contained unit, two meters by two meters, within which rested a single bed, a small desk, and shelving built into the walls approximating a kitchenette and bathroom. The bed was unmade, and a single, empty aluminum cup sat on the table. Lieutenant Jackson shone the flashlight around the border of the space, and the shaky light revealed that pieces of paper or plex had been stuck to the walls.

“Hold there,” Kirk said softly, and Jackson held the light steady on one of the pieces of paper. It was slightly yellowed, a little dusty, but it showed a simplistic drawing of a house, with two big stick figures and three small stick figures drawn in front of it. Kirk’s heart sank. Someone’s child had drawn them this picture, and they had taken it to this job with them, and kept it where they could see it at all times. He glanced at Spock, who scanned the little room with his tricorder but met his eyes.

“They may be in the mine itself, captain,” Spock said, and he and Jackson stood. Kirk straightened as well.

“Did you get any life signs? From any of these little bunkers?”

“Uncertain, captain. The scanner was unable to penetrate whatever matter makes up the soil of this planet. But my readings show a larger shelter just beyond our sightline,” Spock said, and indicated westward, in the opposite direction of the highest peak of the mountain range. “A larger domicile, or perhaps a central gathering place.”

“Alright,” Kirk said, and with a gesture recalled the drifting security teams back to his side. “We’ll split into three. Spock, April, and I will head to the larger building, see if anyone is there. Team A, open as many of these hatches as you can and search for anyone within who may be in need of acute medical assistance. Close them up when you’re done, though, no need to let the dust into these people’s things. Team B, head to the entrance to the mine and see if there are survivors there.” His people nodded around him.

“Remember, we don’t want to come in with accusations. We’re just here to check everything over because the comms went down. We’re here to help. Check in with the ship every---”

Tickatickatickatick. Kirk stopped as the noise echoed into earshot, drifting towards them over the dusty plain. Jackson turned over her shoulder, looking in the direction of the mountains, but nothing seemed to have changed. The ticking noise grew louder, and Spock started off suddenly towards the central road they had originally landed on. They followed Spock as he strode purposefully onto the road, and then scuffed at the dirt with his boot.

The dust cleared easily away, revealing a magnetic track set into the earth. He looked up, along the road, as a metal cart rolled into view from beyond the curve of the road, where the rise and fall of the bunker-hills had hidden it. Slowly it tickatickaticked down the road, hovering above the metal strip, the rotating magnets set into the cart itself scraping and shifting as it pulled itself along. Kirk and the away team watched as it trundled on its way, empty but for the dirt that had settled into the grooves of it, and passed them to continue through the wasteland.

“Perhaps the larger building is a storage location for the dilithium before it is shipped out,” Spock said quietly, as he watched the cart disappear around another bend.

“Maybe,” Kirk said, and when the cart had vanished from view he turned back to the away team. “Check in with us or the ship every thirty minutes. Dismissed.” The officers nodded, and team A peeled off to open hatches as team B started down the long and desolate road.

“Terrible day for a walk,” Kirk said as he, Spock, and April turned the other direction, towards where the other building waited for them. The wind had picked up around them, tossing the fine dirt in every direction, and there wasn’t a single tree to break the power of the gusts.

“I believe that they will be able ‘hitch a ride,’ as you might say,” Spock said, and they had only taken a few more steps when the tickatickatick began again. The cart lurched towards them once more, returning down its path from the mine to wherever its dropoff station might be and back again. They stepped aside to let it pass.

“I hope they catch it,” Kirk said. “No use walking if there’s a perfectly good cart going that way anyway.” He turned back to their road and continued down it. “What do you think of all this, Admiral?”

April walked alongside him, dark eyes scanning the horizon around them. “I don’t like that we haven’t seen a single person,” he said, and he gently palmed his phaser. “Alive or dead.” Kirk hummed in agreement, and Spock followed the two of them a few paces behind, sweeping from standing between him and April to fanning out beside him. The Spock rule, Kirk thought with a jolt. He hadn’t seen it in action since he learned its name. Spock had always hovered on away missions, orbiting him, but he had never thought anything of it until it had been brought to his attention. He smiled at his pacing husband before returning his attention to the road, and to April. When was the last time he had been on an away mission, had to make life-or-death split-second decisions? His hand on his weapon was making Kirk nervous.

They walked for another twenty minutes before a huge, unnatural curve broke the flat horizon. It rose up before them as they approached; it was a building made out of the same material and in the same design that the hatches and the bunkers were, but it stood twenty feet tall and double that wide. Kirk turned back to look over his shoulder, and then look around him.

“Mr. Spock,” he said quietly, returning his attention to the building. “Is there anything approaching this size, anywhere else within tricorder range?”

Spock turned slowly, scanning in every direction, before he shook his head. Kirk took in the shape of the building, the positioning of its details: there was a small rectangular door set dead center, with what looked like opaque windows alongside it, with a second row of windows higher above.

“This doesn’t look like a community center to me,” Kirk said, and Spock met his eyes as he spoke. “It looks like a house.” Spock considered it, as April’s breath left his lungs harshly. Kirk looked over his shoulder again at all the tiny, one-room bunkers, and looked back at the comparatively enormous structure. “Admiral, why did you call Dextrum’s owner unpleasant?”

April had pulled his phaser out, holding it loosely in both hands down in front of him, and he gazed over the building in front of them with a curl to his lip. “He’s a criminal ten times over, but we haven’t been able to pin him with anything. Then he showed up with proof that the government of Kindinos II sold him this planet, because they couldn’t be bothered to mine the dilithium themselves, and he badgered us into the worst deal we’ve ever cut just because he caught us at a bad time and we needed the dilithium for the new ships. He’s brash, and arrogant, and I have been waiting for something like this to happen for a year now.”

There was only one person that Kirk could think of who could possibly have made such a name for himself and pulled off such a ridiculous gambit, but there was no sense in focusing on that question now. “If I were a miner, doing the hard labor of pulling this rock out of the earth, and I live in a one-room hole in the ground and the big boss lives in a veritable mansion…” He trailed off, shaking his head. Spock’s hypothesis from the night before seemed more and more likely.

“Any signs of life inside, Spock?”

“None, captain.”

“We’re going in.” Kirk strode to the front door, Spock on his heels, and pulled the latch set into the metal of the door.

It swung open easily, revealing only darkness within. Spock flicked on the light set into his tricorder, and it shakily illuminated an entrance hallway with arches leading into other rooms on either side. Spock insinuated himself between Kirk and the doorway, and then crossed the threshold first. One hand floated towards his phaser, and the other held his tricorder light out. Kirk followed him in, and April brought up the rear. The hallway was garishly decorated, apparent even in the single weak light source. Enormous oil paintings of buxom women and exotic locales hung on every wall, and their footsteps were muffled by an oversized rug that stretched out into the darkness beyond them. Every step released a puff of the brown-gray dust that coated everything and the vibrant colors of the paintings were deadened by it. Spock turned curiously into one of the side rooms and aimed his light at the windows.

“I believe windows have been entirely coated by this dust,” Spock said.

“Cozy,” Kirk said, and he and Spock abandoned the room to continue deeper into the house. They passed two rooms with overstuffed couches built for lounging, and one with a dining room table and seats for twenty. The only place the dust had been disturbed was the head of the table, where one person had put a plate and glass and then removed them. April trailed behind them, peering dismissively at the evidence of a man who was unaccustomed to the hard life of living on an undeveloped planet.

Further in the house, there was a rickety metal staircase spiraling upwards, and the entrance to a kitchen.

“Choose your own adventure,” Kirk said, and peered upward into the darkness as Spock pointed their flashlight up into the second floor. April glanced up as well before he turned his head sharply, narrowing his eyes at the darkness hiding the details of the kitchen.

“Point that light over here, Mr. Spock,” he said, and Spock obliged. April gestured at the dust with his free hand. “Look at this--- it’s been disturbed more recently than the rest.” And so it was; there was a line in the fine, gritty dirt that was a slightly different color, as though something had been dragged across the floor and then the reclaiming dust had done its best to hide the evidence. The fine hairs on the back of Kirk’s neck stood at attention. He abandoned the staircase to follow Spock and April into the kitchen. Spock wielded the light as April followed the trail through the dust, ignoring the marble countertop of the island. But Kirk noted the island, and the expensive shine of the plates sitting in the open cabinets, and the heft of the ceramic utensil rest that he lifted off what looked like an induction stovetop. Someone had brought all the comforts of home to this mining town, and then had refused to share with his neighbors. Kirk banked the fire burning angrily in the pit of his stomach and turned to pay attention to Spock and April.

There was a door in the wall in the corner of the room, and April opened it as he raised his phaser. Kirk blinked, and for a moment Tommy looked over his shoulder at him as they both stared down into a cellar that smelled of death and rot, and then he blinked again. Tommy wasn’t there. April and Spock stood at the yawning threshold and stared down a set of untrustworthy-looking stairs that descended into pitch blackness. Kirk swallowed his sudden nausea and stepped up behind them.

“Cellar?”

“Perhaps,” Spock said, and he must have heard something in Kirk’s voice because without looking at him he reached back one hand with two fingers extended and stroked them along the side of Kirk’s useless hand before bringing it back to his tricorder. He aimed the little machine down the stairs and frowned. “But unlikely. This staircase leads down into a tunnel that extends further than a cellar or basement would.”

“How far?”

Spock looked back at him, liquid-dark eyes shining in the dim light. “At least two thousand meters beyond the boundary of this house.” The sense of unease that had dripped into his stomach at the disturbed dust intensified. He locked eyes with Spock, who gave one sharp nod, before he turned to April. “Admiral, I really appreciate you coming down here. But I don’t think the owner is still here, and I can’t guarantee your safety if we go underground.”

“Your concern is noted, captain, but I am going with you.” April’s tone brooked no argument, and his eyes were hard like flint. Kirk read his resolve in the lines of his face, and a level of apprehension that he didn’t understand, and he turned away from him and Spock to flip open his communicator.

“Captain Kirk to the Enterprise, come in, Enterprise.”

“I read you, captain, this is Enterprise.” Uhura’s voice came immediately, barely crackling over the comms.

“Checking in. We’re fine, but we’ve found something underground that needs looking at, so we’re going in. Any news from the other teams?”

“They called in just a few moments ago. Nothing yet, but they’re both fine.”

“Good, good. If we miss our check-in, ask Giotto to send another team down. We’re going beneath the big house.”

“Acknowledged, captain.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant. Kirk out.” He flipped his comm shut and turned to his companions. “Once more unto the breach, gentlemen?”

April exhaled heavily through his nose, the only sign he gave that he was tired of Kirk, and allowed Spock to cross through the doorway first with the flashlight before he followed down the stairs. Kirk brought up the rear, following the light bouncing down into the dark, and tried to remind himself that there would not be metallic blue sludge waiting for him at the bottom.

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There was no sludge at the bottom; only a long strip of the same magnetic rail that they had seen on the road outside, and dunes of the same dirt that coated everything along the sides of the tunnel. The tunnel itself was tall enough to stand up straight in, but not wide enough to walk shoulder to shoulder, and the walls were carved directly into the earth. Kirk frowned as he dragged one finger along them. The dirt was silken, easily malleable; he didn’t trust the structural integrity of their underground avenue.

Spock walked ahead with the flashlight, but every ten steps Kirk saw the whites of his eyes glint in the heavy dark as he glanced back, as if to assure himself that he had not lost Kirk to the black tunnel. April walked between them, phaser held in one hand, eyes trained on the horizon of Spock’s light ahead of them. They walked through the tunnel for fifteen minutes; long enough that Kirk was beginning to lose track of the minutes, and the monotony of the path was easing his nerves.

Then Spock halted, raising one hand in a symbol for them to stop behind him. He stood stock-still, head cocked slightly to turn one ear down the tunnel, and Kirk could see the tendons in his neck in shadowy relief as he listened.

April opened his mouth, half a syllable emerging, before Spock whispered, “Hush,” and Kirk saw his stance shift from vaguely curious to high alert. He turned back to them, dropping his voice so low that Kirk could barely hear him, and said, “I hear voices ahead. At least ten, possibly more.”

“The miners,” Kirk whispered back, and Spock nodded.

“I heard one say ‘dilithium.’” Kirk gestured for Spock to continue on carefully. He glanced at April as Spock faced forward again, and blinked. For half of one second, before the light shifted and the moment vanished, Kirk could have sworn that April’s face was drawn down with a profound sadness. But when April met his eyes, the expression was gone, as if it had never been.

April nodded, and they followed Spock further down the tunnel. They crept forward more carefully, placing their feet gently, and Kirk unholstered his phaser to set it to ‘stun’ and keep it in his hand. Spock drew his, holding his tricorder in one hand and the phaser in the other. The tunnel started to grow wider, and as they continued, Kirk’s less-sensitive human ears began to pick up voices from further down.

He leaned forward and tapped Spock’s shoulder to get his attention, and when he had it, he purposefully reholstered his weapon. He stood for a moment as Spock analyzed him, considering his decision, before he decreed it logical and put his own away as well. April watched both of them unhappily.

“We don’t want to create a problem where there isn’t one,” Kirk whispered as quietly as he could.

“I feel certain there is already a problem,” April whispered back, and he kept his out. Kirk glanced at it. He didn’t like it, but again he was outranked.

The tunnel continued to widen, and the far-off voices grew closer and louder, and once he was able to do so he stepped up to walk next to Spock. Spock glanced sideways at him, and adjusted himself so that he was just slightly in front of Kirk, his shoulder edged in front. April walked alongside them, his shoulders square, eyes sweeping ahead of them. The tunnel curved sideways, and as they rounded the edge, they saw something up ahead: light. Spock dimmed the tricorder’s little light and turned to April and Kirk.

“There is a group of people approximately sixty meters ahead,” he said lowly. “We ought to proceed with caution. We do not want to startle these people into believing that we are a threat.”

Kirk nodded, and they proceeded. Closer and closer they crept, until the murmuring voices coalesced into individual words---packing, and careful, and dilithium, and mine---and the light ahead grew brighter and brighter. Ten meters ahead Kirk saw a standalone light source--- quite similar to the ones that they kept on the Enterprise for when they needed to provide high visibility on a mission--- facing away from them. He pulled up into the last patch of shadow with Spock, clinging close to the wall for any cover it would provide.

“Alright,” he said, and turned to April to discuss their approach. But April stuck his phaser back into its holster and stepped ahead. “Admiral!”

April ignored him. The harsh industrial lighting gleamed off his bald head as he walked straight into the center of the cavern that yawned open in front of them.

Kirk hissed, “Admiral!” He glanced despairingly behind him, back into the safety of the dark tunnel, and froze. A shadowy figure emerged from behind them. Spock slid between Kirk and the figure, drawing his phaser in one subtle, fluid motion. Kirk drew his own, pressing his shoulder to Spock’s, turning sideways to cover their backs as his heartbeat picked up. From the corner of his eye he could see the shadow of movement of others along the perimeter of the cavern, circling them.

“The admiral,” he murmured to Spock, and he felt, more than he saw, Spock’s answering nod. No one had fired on April yet, or even acknowledged his appearance in the room, and he was looking around at whatever he could see from his central position, but Kirk could still see movement---

April turned back to them, a curious expression on his face. The figure stepped out of the shadows and into the unforgiving light.

He was not a miner.

The world stopped spinning beneath them. Kirk’s heart stopped beating. His blood froze in his veins as he stared at a man in a uniform that he had not seen outside of his nightmares for almost twenty years. The Section 31 agent only spared them one glance as he strode from the tunnel behind them, a box clasped tightly in his gloved hands, and towards April in the center.

Kirk staggered forward one step, raising his phaser to protect April, to stun the agent---

“Good morning, sir,” the agent said as he passed April, and April inclined his head in greeting before clasping his hands behind his back and turning back to them. Kirk stood frozen, as stuck as if his feet had been cemented to the ground. April’s eyes flicked between Kirk and Spock, who sidled around him now to keep his body between Kirk’s and the agent’s, and he sighed.

“God damn it. So you both know.” He unclasped his hands to pinch the bridge of his nose between two fingers. The words echoed through Kirk’s head, shattering senselessly against the inside of his brain. April stared down at the ground, hand hiding his expression, before looking back up at them with undisguised grief.

“I tried everything in my power to keep us from this point,” April said quietly. “And you fought me every step of the way, Kirk. Why couldn’t you stand down?”

April knew.

April was part of it. April worked for Section 31. As a burning spear of betrayal struck through his stomach, and his heart hammered in his chest, the cold glassy pane of disassociation slid down over Kirk’s thoughts. Spock’s head twitched from side to side next to him, brown eyes assessing the cavern around them, the tunnel they’d left behind. Kirk slowly increased the power on his phaser by one level and gripped it tighter.

“That is not a wise idea, captain,” April said, glancing down at his hands. Kirk’s knuckles were white. Spock moved sideways, putting himself one step ahead of Kirk’s shoulder, his posture sliding from upright and stoic to that of a predator in the span of a heartbeat. Now that they were standing in the light, Kirk could see: a full team of soldiers in those black uniforms, gloved hands passing securely latched boxes from person to person, taking them somewhere beyond the edge of the cavern. “You will be coming with us regardless of your actions, so I recommend that you don’t do anything too brash.”

“Like hell we will,” Kirk said, and kept his phaser where it was. From over April’s shoulder he could see more soldiers approaching, and one from over Spock’s.

“Disarm them, please,” April said, and the soldier closest to Spock broke into a run. Spock slapped his phaser back into its holster and ran to intercept him. So fast that Kirk could barely track his movement, Spock shoved the man’s phaser-hand upward, grabbed the weapon, and tossed it behind Kirk where it slid up against the wall. He twisted the man’s arm behind his head. When his back was to him, his other hand dropped down onto the crook of his neck and pinched. The man slumped to the ground, incapacitated, and Spock spun with a snarl to the other two soldiers as they approached, more cautiously than the first had.

April raised one hand, and the two soldiers halted. “Mr. Spock, reports of your pacifism seem to be greatly exaggerated. But I think you’ll find that standing down would be more… logical.” He nodded to Kirk, and Spock’s head snapped to him. They both looked down at the small red dot that had appeared on Kirk’s uniform shirt, hovering over his heart.

Kirk looked up, past April, and saw a woman across the cavern from him, plasma rifle balanced carefully on a stack of boxes. She nodded in acknowledgement when his eyes found hers before slotting herself back to the sight on the rifle.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Spock,” April said quietly. “But I would recommend putting your weapon and your communicator down.” From across the cavern, Kirk saw the sniper’s shoulders settle. The red dot rested unwaveringly on his chest. Spock’s eyes were trained on it, and Kirk could see that great mind calculating percentages and statistics even before he raised his gaze to meet Kirk’s.

Spock pulled his comm from his belt and the phaser from the holster before dropping both to the dirt at his feet.

“Wise,” April commented, as Spock returned to Kirk’s side, angling himself so that the dot of the rifle’s laser sight rested on his shoulder instead of Kirk’s chest. “Yours too, please, captain.”

Kirk glanced at the laser sight on Spock’s shoulder before pulling his comm and phaser off his belt as well. “What’s going on here, admiral?” His voice sounded very far away, even to his own ears. His phaser and comms hit the dirt with a dull thud, and he nudged them away from him with his foot.

“Stupid doesn’t suit you, Kirk,” April said softly, and Kirk’s mind snapped back to a subspace call with April two weeks ago, when he had said that he was taking Spock away, that he was sending Spock to another ship---

“Come with me,” April said, and turned over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you as much as I can.” Kirk and Spock exchanged a glance, and he knew they were in agreement. They followed April through the cavern and stuck close to each other. By Kirk’s count, there were a few over twenty Section 31 agents milling through the cavern, disappearing into and reappearing from the tunnels that dotted the larger room. Two of them hefted the one that Spock had pinched over their shoulders and vanished with him down another tunnel straight ahead.

“You are both acquainted with Section 31,” April said. “But do either of you know what its actual purpose is?”

“I hypothesized that it was primarily dedicated to research,” Spock said, and he glanced at Kirk; Kirk nodded. Yes, that was the best option; keep April talking, get him to explain as much as they could while they sought another way out.

“That’s not untrue,” April said, and nodded to the scurrying agents as they shuttled those locked boxes deeper into the tunnels. No one spared them a glance, but Kirk was viciously gratified to see that no one was willing to pass within two meters of Spock. “But it does go a little broader than that. The Federation needs a variety of tools to protect the interest of its citizens and ensure that actors like the Klingons are not able to interfere with our affairs. Starfleet, as a whole, is a hammer, and to you, everything looks like a nail. 31 is a scalpel.” April glanced at them, and his hand rested on his phaser, as if they needed a reminder of who currently held the power.

“I do not understand your analogies, admiral. Please speak plainly,” Spock said, but the badly disguised anger in the set of his shoulders said that he very much did.

“Starfleet, and starships and their captains, tend to be loud and flashy. 31 is able to act with more subtlety, more… finesse. Part of its value comes from being able to operate without public scrutiny. 31 conducts research, develops technology, and asks questions, same as the VSA.” He nodded at Spock, as if they were now speaking the same language, and a minute muscle in Spock’s jaw twitched as if he were offended by the comparison. “But when something goes wrong, something that gives our enemies the opportunity to take advantage of a weakness, 31 is the best tool for mitigating that damage.”

April gestured around at them, at the contingent of individuals in black uniforms. “Dextrum wasn’t beholden to our labor laws, because it wasn’t a Federation company. When the conflict first broke out, there was a possibility that we would both lose our investment and face backlash on a galactic level from working with an organization that treated its workers like this. Section 31 was called in to make sure that, at the very least, we got the dilithium we paid for.”

“But we weren’t supposed to be here,” Kirk burst out. His fury was heavy on his tongue.

“Who is we, captain?” April asked, bemused. “You were not supposed to be here. I tried to keep you and Spock from ever seeing this at all. But then you answered that call for help, the one that was never supposed to have been sent, and I couldn’t stop you.”

They entered a tunnel, not as narrow as the first but still smaller than the cavern behind, and April strode ahead while Kirk and Spock walked shoulder to shoulder. For one second, in the darkness, Kirk grabbed onto Spock’s hand and squeezed, and Spock squeezed back. Then they reemerged into the light and he released his grip.

“Admiral,” Spock said, as he looked around at the lofty cavern around them, and the telescoping ladder leaning against the wall on the far side of the space. “Please clarify why you are willing to share this information now, when you would not before.”

For a second, Kirk watched as a muscle ticked in April’s neck, as he heard a soft clicking as April’s throat closed, as April turned his face away from them both. When he turned back again, even as his face remained neutral his eyes revealed his grief.

“You two never should have been allowed to serve on the same ship,” he said. “Regardless of what Pike thought of your potential together. I said the risks were too high, but others were so convinced that a Vulcan would never befriend humans that they were willing to ignore it.” April’s voice was profanely gentle when he continued. “Sometimes it felt like I was the only one who remembered S’chn T’gai Michael Burnham, and that she had been human.”

Spock’s eyes widened.

“I tried to separate you before it was too late,” April said, and his voice hoarsened. He pressed his hand against his sternum and closed his eyes for a second longer than normal. He clenched his jaw as his eyebrows pulled together. “But your damned Vulcan telepathy… the link to the ambassador, to Amanda Grayson, and to T’Pau, who already didn’t trust us…” April hissed a breath out through his teeth, and with every second, every secret, the wrinkles of his face and the dark circles under his eyes deepened. “I didn’t want to do this.”

“Then don’t,” Kirk said. In the space of those two words, he finally understood how Madeleine and Natalya had heard the unsaid threat in the auditorium on Tarsus. He felt the same burning clarity in his bones as he turned to Spock, felt electric fear skittering along his skin like lightning. Spock was turning to him, his apprehension plain in his beautiful brown eyes, reaching one long hand out for him, when April said, voice tight, “Make it look like an accident.”

Kirk heard the whine of a charging phaser behind him. He was standing in the auditorium on Tarsus, next to Tommy and the littles. He was standing in the cavern, hundreds of feet below the surface of Kindinos. He was standing in front of Spock on their wedding night as Spock reached out to take his hands.

“No,” he said, and he snatched Spock’s outstretched hand and yanked as hard as he could. The cavern lit up with the light of phaser fire. Spock stumbled against him, his breath leaving him in a rush as he collided with Kirk’s chest. They both rocked backwards. Kirk wrapped his arms around Spock and spun them both, Spock’s feet clumsy and dragging beneath them. Spock was warm in his arms. His breath brushed Kirk’s ear.

Kirk’s hand was warm and wet when he pulled it away from Spock’s back. He looked down over the planes of Spock’s shoulder to see green coating his palm.

“No,” he said again, and something vital inside him shattered. “No, hey, Spock, look at me. Look at me.”

From somewhere very far away, he heard an unfamiliar voice say, “Should I fire again?” April responded, “No. It’s just a matter of time. Leave them be, but grab Kirk before we take off.”

Spock leaned heavily against him, head resting on his shoulder, and his voice was low and weak as he breathed, “Captain.” His knees buckled. Kirk lowered them both to the ground, taking as much of Spock’s weight as he could, holding him close in an awful parody of intimacy. Spock slid sideways as he lost his balance, and Kirk caught his head in his hand before it could hit the ground. Spock’s hair was silky against his palm, but the blood on Kirk’s hands dampened the strands and made them stick to each other. It smudged against his forehead and drew little green lines over his skin. He coughed, sprawled on the ground where he lay, legs bent beneath him. The only things Kirk could feel were the weight of Spock’s head in his hand and the hard earth beneath his knees. Spock’s face was too pale, and his eyes were glassy as he looked up at Kirk bending over him.

“Captain,” Spock said, and he lifted one shaking hand to Kirk’s face.

“No,” Kirk said again, and ripped what was left of Spock’s shirt open. The phaser fire had torn through Spock’s chest, entering from the left side of his back and exiting near his sternum. The smell of burning skin turned his stomach, but he forced himself to look. It felt like one of his nightmares, but he couldn’t wake himself up. “It’s not so bad, see? It’s not so bad.” It was worse. The phaser had been set to kill, and it had seared Spock open. But, Kirk realized, as Spock’s cold hand landed unsteadily on his neck, that if he hadn’t pulled Spock towards him it would have gone straight through his spine and heart.

“Jim,” Spock said, and coughed again. There was a speck of green at the corner of Spock’s mouth, and Kirk wiped it away with his thumb.

“Hush,” he said. “You’re going to be fine.” He knelt over Spock, hands fluttering uselessly over the expanse of burned skin and wishing that he were Bones, and realized in horror that he could see Spock’s ribs inside his body. They rose and fell with his unsteady breathing. Spock’s hand groped for his and clasped it.

“My Jim.” Spock coughed. “Ashayam.” The Vulcan word slid like water, like blood, off his tongue, and Kirk’s eyes burned hot with tears as he remembered in a flash that first morning, sitting across from Spock in the mess, teasing Spock, watching him drink his tea as they planned their fake relationship. Beloved. Beloved. Beloved. He pressed their joined hands to his chest and leaned over him. Something dug into his stomach.

Something hard and metallic was digging into his stomach.

“You’re gonna be okay, honey, I promise,” Kirk said, and he reached one hand inside his shirt to pull out Scotty’s experimental comm. Spock’s eyes followed his hand lazily, and he shook his head.

“No, captain,” he said, and his voice was weak. “Use it for yourself…” He trailed off as his chest spasmed, and he coughed wetly. His blood seeped into the dirt beneath him, staining his shirt and Kirk’s pants.

“Absolutely not,” Kirk said fiercely, and he flipped the comm open in the space beside Spock’s body and his knees. Within it was one single red button. He pressed it.

Nothing happened. He slid it into the remains of Spock’s mangled shirt, where it rested on his stomach, and redoubled his grasp on Spock’s hand. “Hold on,” he said. “Scotty will get you out.” He had never prayed so hard for something to be true.

Spock’s eyes were trained on his face, as if he were memorizing the lines of it. “Why?”

“You have to ask?” Kirk shook his hand lightly before pressing it against his chest again, and slid his hand over Spock’s forehead, through his hair, smoothing it back away from his face. “I promised to keep you and protect you, didn’t I?” Kirk’s voice shook. Spock’s unfocused eyes searched his, but his eyelids were drooping.

Was it Kirk’s imagination, or was Spock starting to dissolve?

“For better and for worse, against all dangers, as long as I live,” Kirk said. The edges of Spock’s body softened, glowing golden with the molecular confusion of a transporter lock, and Kirk half-laughed as tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. Scotty, that mad beautiful genius. Kirk was going to owe him and Giotto whatever they wanted for the rest of their lives, assuming that he made it out in one piece.

Beloved. Beloved. Beloved. Spock’s eyes were locked on him, the warm brown that he had come to cherish over every other color, and he ran one hand over Spock’s cheek.

“I love you,” he said. “You’re my best friend, and my husband, and I want you to be both of those things for the rest of my life.”

Spock’s eyes refocused, hardening as he started to vibrate entirely into gold. Kirk heard someone from behind him yell out, but there was nothing that they could do to him now. The only thing that mattered was that Spock would be safe, that Bones would fix him, that he wouldn’t die here, bleeding out on the cold stone floor.

“I will come back for you, ashayam,” Spock said, voice harsh with the blood in his throat. Kirk kissed the back of Spock’s hand and laid it gently on Spock’s stomach. Then he sat back on his heels and watched in heartstopping relief as Spock shimmered entirely out of his vision and disappeared, leaving behind only the green bloodstain on the dusty stone floor.

April roared, “What did you do?”

“Protected my husband,” Kirk said, and he grinned ruthlessly at April from where he knelt on the ground. April frowned down at him before nodding sharply.

From behind him a phaser whined and discharged, and the world around him vanished into blackness before he had even hit the ground.

☆☆☆

Kirk’s face pressed against something cold and metallic. He could feel the rumbling of an engine reverberating through his cheekbone, rattling his skull and intensifying what was the beginning of a splitting headache. His hands were tied behind his back, and he lay facedown on his stomach. Behind him, he could hear murmured conversation; one deep and familiar voice, and an unfamiliar one. Where the hell was he?

April’s voice said, “Thank you. Dismissed.” His heavy footsteps rang against the floor, and Kirk felt each footfall through his bones.

April had fooled them, betrayed them. Someone had hurt Spock. And now, he was… where, exactly? The feel of the engine and the faint recycled smell of the air told him he was on a shuttle, but with no idea how long he had been out and no comm device to use for coordinates, he was lost. But Spock had gotten out. The Enterprise had beamed him aboard. That was what mattered.

April sat down somewhere in the vicinity of Kirk’s shoulders and sighed. Then he said, “Are you awake yet, captain?”

Kirk stayed still, weighing his options. He could pretend to be out still and wait until April left, or he could reveal his consciousness and see if he could get April to talk again. Any information would help him at this point.

He lifted his head, peeling his cheek painfully from the metal floor, and turned his head to look April’s way. “April,” he said, as coldly as he could manage. He thought he could be forgiven for abandoning his decorum at a time like this.

“I am sorry, for what it’s worth,” April said, and Kirk snorted. But April looked awful. His eyes were sunken in his face, dark circles beneath them, and the muscles of his face looked like he had forgotten what smiling was long ago. He met April’s eyes.

The other man shifted forward out of his seat and rolled Kirk onto his side before pushing him upright and retreating to his bench seat again. There was a secured stack of cases behind Kirk, and he leaned back against them, stretching his legs out in front of him. He was definitely on a shuttle--- a small one, by the width of the room they were in--- and the stars passed by the window over April’s shoulder at sublight speed.

April studied him for a minute before sighing again. “I knew this was going to end badly for you the day that you fought me to keep Spock. You should have let him go.”

Kirk resisted the urge to spit at him, but it was a close thing. He felt like a caged animal. It was only the restraint of his hands tied behind his back that kept him from throttling April. April, who had ordered the shot that had sprayed Spock’s lungs over the shirt that he still wore, who had pulled those horrible gasping breaths out of him as Kirk lowered him to the ground--- but he couldn’t think about Spock and that wound right now, or he would crumble. He pushed his thoughts behind the wall in his mind and focused on what was around him, before him.

“I was never going to do that,” Kirk said. “Not if he didn’t want to go.”

“So you married him?” April dragged one hand over his face. “I had hoped that it was all a ruse, just another one of your Corbomite maneuvers to outbluff me--- but. I do have eyes, after all. As soon as you responded to the distress call, I received my orders.”

“And what orders were those?”

“To make you my strategic extraction,” April said. He dropped his hands into his lap. “31 wants you, captain.”

Kirk laughed once, harshly. It grated on his throat. “I will never work for you. I wouldn’t have done it before, and I’m certainly not going to do it now.”

“Because we hurt Mr. Spock?”

“Because you hurt my husband,” Kirk snarled, leaning forward, and was gratified by April’s nervous twitch.

“I understand your reticence, captain, but your consent is not required.”

“Is that so? Are you going to track down Spock and put a phaser to his head every time you need something from me?”

April watched the stars go by the window over Kirk’s head for a minute before he said, “The solution is a little more elegant than that, and one that I believe you are already acquainted with.”

A cold line of fear dripped into Kirk’s stomach--- a method of forcing his hand that he was already acquainted with? What the hell could that mean? The door at the head of the room slid open, and a woman in the black 31 uniform walked in.

“Docking in thirty seconds, admiral,” she said, and he nodded at her before she disappeared back into what seemed to be the cockpit of the shuttle.

“I’m sure she’ll show you soon enough,” April said, and stood. He vanished through the door to the cockpit, leaving Kirk alone in the back of the shuttle. He staggered to his feet immediately, shoving himself upright as quickly as he could with his arms still bound. He pressed his face against the window, trying to see where they were docking---

A huge ship appeared out of the darkness before him as the shuttle swung around. It was nearly as big as the Enterprise, but a newer, unfamiliar design--- it was sleeker, and darker. To Kirk, it looked unfriendly. There were no numbers or names tagged onto the ship anywhere that he could see, but it was built in the same styles as other Federation ships. It grew larger and larger in the tiny window before the shuttle was entirely swallowed by the ship and the view was replaced by the docking bay.

The turbodoor slid open and Kirk shifted backwards, tensing. April stepped back in.

“Got a look at the ship, did you?” His voice was jovial enough, though it seemed like all of the little light remaining had left his eyes. “She’s gorgeous, and almost brand new. You might come to like her, after a time.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Kirk said. “I’m a one-ship man, myself.”

April held his eyes, and there was nothing in his face of the man who had been on the Enterprise, harassing his crew, just days before. He was still flesh and bone, but the spirit had fled somewhere between Kindinos and this ship.

For a moment Kirk held his eyes, and April’s jaw worked, throat tensing, until he pressed a hand to his mouth and turned away. When he turned back, whatever he had wanted to say was gone.

“If you’d follow me, captain,” April said, and gestured in front of him. “There is someone who wants to see you.”

“I can’t shake any hands if you don’t untie me,” Kirk said as he passed. He got an eyeful of the cockpit as he stepped through it and down onto the runner along the shuttle. It looked like those on the Enterprise. If he could somehow steal one, he could fly it.

“We won’t think any less of you if you forget your manners,” April said, and followed him down. Kirk stepped down onto the shuttle bay floor and looked around him in abject awe. The hangar was enormous--- bigger than even the Engineering department on the Enterprise. There were six shuttles resting along the runway, two recently landed with crew streaming out of them, and room for more. An entire contingent of people in 31 blacks scuttled around: working on shuttles, or passing by on catwalks overhead, or flowing in and out of the doors dotted around the hangar.

“Where’d you get the money for a ship like this?” Kirk wondered out loud.

April smiled slightly, a horrible rictus, and said, “I can be very convincing when I need to be.” He walked towards one of the larger doors leading into the depths of the ship, and the shuttle navigator prodded Kirk forward with her drawn phaser. He followed April, memorizing the layout of the hangar and the catwalks above him as best he could. Maybe he could break his restraints and steal a shuttle. Maybe he could steal a comms unit and get Uhura’s attention on some radio frequency, somehow. Maybe he could---

The large door before them slid open, and the first thing he noticed was the shine of fluorescent lights on steel gray hair. A woman strode towards him and April, flanked by a retinue of Section 31 officers, and Kirk knew her. Her hair had been blonde, and her skin once had fewer wrinkles, but Kirk knew her: he knew her twinkling eyes and heart-shaped face and gentle posture. His feet stopped moving involuntarily. His hands went numb behind his back as he stared at her.

“Captain James Kirk,” Elise Darling called, and her voice was just as it had always been; warm and inviting and utterly undeniable. “Oh, I always knew that you were going to be special. Welcome to the headquarters of Section 31.”

#my writing #spirk #spirk fan fiction #k/s fan fiction #fake married #k/s #regulatory relations #wahoo here we go deep into act 3!#it's endgame baby!

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