[fic] The Choices You Can't Take Back, Part 2
Warning: This chapter was never truly finished.
---
"Bones, what was that back there?" Jim asked once they were on their own.
"Back, what? You mean how snooty the Andorian was being?" McCoy asked in confusion.
"When we gave the body to Captain Shralev, you were giving him the funny eye."
"I don't have no 'funny eye' Jim, so don't give me that malarkey," Leonard harrumphed. They were walking down the market area on DS3, where all the shops and restaurants were. It was dirty here too, with floors covered in grime and trash. There were so many people here that contagions would spread rapidly. It was so congested here that a person could slip into the crowd and disappear.
"Stop, Bones, stop." Jim came to a halt, and Leonard stopped with him. "I saw the way you looked at him. What were you thinking?"
McCoy shrugged. "I just thought he didn't seem to like the Ambassador at all."
Jim nodded and looked down, considering. "Yeah. Yeah, I thought so too. Do you think there might have been foul play?" He asked frankly.
"What? No! Jim, I saw that man die myself. I am damn sure I know what killed him."
"And it was natural?"
"It was natural, Jim," he lied.
Jim let the thought go, reluctantly, and changed the subject. "By the way, how did that white flower stuff work out?"
"You mean the flower from Irgon?" It was something they had picked up during a scientific mission on an uninhabited planet. McCoy had seen the possibilities for it as soon as he had run a scan. "Piss poor. I figured I'd be able to use the molecular binding components in it to support some of the less stable molecules in viral annihilators. But the connections are still too damn delicate. Every method I’ve tried to bind them ends up collapsing. That was another dead end."
Jim patted him on the back, and used the gesture to pull Bones in for a sideways hug. "Too bad Bones. You'll find a way eventually. Hey, is that Chinese food?" He waved to a restaurant.
Bones wrapped his arm around Jim’s waist too, and they walked together hip to hip. "I think it is, Jim. Have we struck gold?"
"We certainly have. Come on, we're not gonna get the chance to eat at a Chinese restaurant again until we hit San Francisco."
---
"Aunt Uljyana, I am here! Aunt Uljyana?" Pavel knocked on the door to his aunt's place. He could hear movement inside, and the wailing of one of the boys. The worry that had consumed him for the last several weeks, grew. "Aunt Uljyana? Can you come to the door? Пожалуйста препятствуйте мне внутри."
Slowly the door slid open, and a young boy peeked out, tear stains running down his cheeks. Pavel knelt down and reached out to the boy. "Osip, what’s wrong? Do you remember me? It's Pasha! Come here. Pasha здесь теперь. Что неправильно?" With the door open, Pavel could hear that it wasn’t one of the boys crying, but a woman.
Osip bit his lip, and said nothing. It had been about five years since they last saw each other in person, and Pavel hoped the boy recognized him. "Не потревожьтесь. Pasha здесь теперь. Pasha сделает все лучше." He pulled the boy into a hug, and Osip smiled just a little.
He kissed the boy on the head, squeezed just a bit tighter, then let go. "Osip, Где ваша мать? Take me to your mother."
The boy lead him inside by the hand. There was a table overturned, a chair too, a broken lamp on the floor. The crying was coming from a small bedroom. It had two beds for children, and a crib. Inside, his aunt was crying on the floor.
Pavel's throat went dry. "Что случалось?"
---
The Chinese food was a bad idea, because it gave Bones a terrible, terrible upset stomach. The restaurant’s kitchen probably wasn’t properly cleaned, and was almost certainly full of grime and grease and cooks who didn’t wash their hands.
McCoy went to bed early, in his own private guest room, closing the door on Jim’s disappointed face.
He locked the door securely.
Leonard McCoy undressed, taking off his shirt and boots, leaving on just the skin tight black clothes. He pulled on thick, but malleable gloves and brought out the fresh new boots, and slipped them on. Tied them tightly.
From his medical pack he pulled out two things: one a vial of fluid, the other a compact but powerful computer. It was just a little bigger than a tricorder, and it had hook ups for just about every possible connection in known space. Some were well tested, others were more iffy. But he wasn’t going to hack into a Klingon spaceship, he was working on a Federation built system, and this would computer would allow him to hack into all doors and entryways with complete confidence.
His room didn’t have a scenic view of the market place, like Jim’s did. This room didn’t have any view or windows at all. It was in the central area, because he had complained that he didn’t want a hull room. The windows to space were popular with most, but not with Dr. Leonard McCoy. He didn’t want to be the first person exposed to pressure loss if the hull was damaged.
And with a bit of luck, this room was right next to a (hopefully) little used Jeffrey tube. He started to open the panel on the far wall.
The man who slipped into the Jeffery’s tube wasn’t Leonard McCoy. It was a dark, silent shadow. It was the Reaper.
---
Kheje Blumkrest owned the Chinese restaurant. McCoy had seen him sitting in the corner, with several bodyguards, eating slowly and watching the crowd. He was a well-dressed man, who cared for appearances, and smiled effortlessly. The staff had been professional when dealing with him, but walked nervously.
Kheje worked within the traditional human schedule, and Reaper expected the man might go home soon. However Kheje ordered one more drink.
The vial and let a few drops in the man’s drink, while the bartender wasn’t looking.
He'd gotten used to working in subterfuge and assassination from a distance. It could be exciting in its own way. As a beginner, centuries ago, he had learned how most of battle was waiting, and experience proved how true that was. Though he did miss the true adrenaline rush of melee, where one's life relied on speed, reactions and luck.
He hid as a waitress unknowingly brought out the poisoned drink. Kheje took it and lifted the glass to drink. Then he hesitated.
Reaper held his breath. The man couldn’t possibly know.
Kheje smiled at the waitress. “You are new here, aren’t you my dear?”
The waitress nodded, and uneasily flattened her skirt.
“Then you haven’t sampled the food yet, have you?”
The young waitress shook her head.
“I thought not. Please, come try my drink.”
Reaper froze. Then watched, horrified, as the young woman took a sip.
The compound worked quickly. After swallowing, she began to cough, holding her throat. She did not cough up blood, because the metal eater absorbed the blood. She gasped as her esophagus swelled, and fell to her knees, held a hand over her chest. When iron in the human system was absorbed by the metal eater it created a chemical waste of mostly air and bubbles. Her stomach swelled with the foam, then the froth was forced up and out her swollen esophagus, out her mouth and nose. Unseen, it also filled her veins and arteries, making them bursts. She collapsed, dead, as the other waiters and the cook screamed and tried to help.
Kheje Blumkrest looked down at her unmoving body dispassionately. The spilled drink began to foam as it ate the metallic floor. Kheje sipped his water instead. "Kill the bartender and the cook," the villain ordered his bodyguards. “The rest of you, remember to always taste my food before it’s served."
Reaper ground his teeth in anger.
---
“Captain, we have a problem.”
Both Kirk and Shralev looked up, somewhat alarmed at the urgent tone of the lieutenant’s voice. Before them, the viewing platform showed hundreds of Federation citizens, some winding down to call it a day, others just beginning. The two captains had been cordially conversing in the governor’s observation room. Jim had joined the governor after dropping Bones off, unwilling to waste time spending it by himself. The two of them did have political matters to discuss, and the Andorian would not sleep for many hours more. Personally, Jim found the Andorian almost as stiff as a Vulcan. There was usually some spark in the antenna-heads, but Shralev hid behind an extremely formal facade.
“What is wrong?” The governor asked the lieutenant.
“Sir, Medical reports that a human just arrived in sickbay. And he looks like he may have Brogun. He arrived on the station with one of the small ships earlier today. We’re moving everyone else from his ship to quarantine, but they’ve already exposed the rest of the station by this point.”
Captain Shralev cursed. “Fcerma! We scan everyone when they board, but there’s no way to detect Brogun until they’re sick.”
“Guess we got the vaccine here just in time.” Kirk leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms.
Shralev only relaxed a little. “Yes, I am thankful for that. Have the doctors begin administering the vaccine to everyone immediately. Hopefully we can prevent any deaths that way.”
The lieutenant looked extremely uncomfortable. “Captain, actually, the real problem is, well, I came to tell you…you see, it’s the cargo. Some of it has gone missing.”
Captain Shralev was dismayed. “What?”
“The whole palette of Brogan vaccine is missing, sir.”
“How?” Kirk demanded. “We watched it unloaded just earlier today!”
“We don’t know! No one saw it happen; the security feeds go blank for an hour, and the security guards didn’t see it happen. We’re looking into it, sirs!” The lieutenant pleaded.
“Find it,” Captain Shralev ordered. “It must be somewhere on the station, so find it! Creposfc neghr,” he cursed. “All we can do is quarantine anyone exposed to it.”
Kirk thought fast. “We may still have some on the Enterprise, leftover from inoculating my crew. Not much, maybe a few doses.”
“But Medical might be able to cultivate duplicates.” Shralev realized.
Jim jumped into action. “I’ll be right back.”
---
Jim contacted the Enterprise, and asked the Medbay to send any and all Brogun fasciitis vaccines to DS3. Then he went to McCoy’s guestroom, and banged on the door.
“Bones! Bones, I need your medical bag! Bones? Wake up!”
When the doctor didn’t answer, Jim overrode the lock.
“Bones, you’re sleeping like the dead, wake up!”
Strangely, there was no reply. Not a holler or even a sleepy grunt.
“Bones?”
Jim turned on the lights, and found the bed unused, with clothes on the floor. The bathroom was empty. But a panel had been pulled off the wall, revealing a Jeffery’s tube.
Jim stared at it, perplexed.
He leaned into the Jeffery’s tube. “Bones?” It echoed down and around.
He pulled himself back out, and glanced around the room again. Maybe the grumpy doctor had just gone out for a walk, or maybe to get a drink. But Bones’ well worn shoes were on the floor, abandoned. And a wall panel had been removed. If this was Sulu, he would have known exactly where to look.
But Bones? In a Jeffery's tube?
Had Bones abandoned Jim at the end of the evening, just to go tear a hole out of the wall and climb down a twenty meter long passageway, then disappear into the hidden passageways of the space station without his shoes?
It was so unlikely that Jim didn’t know how to wrap his mind around idea. In fact, it was downright suspicious. Maybe someone had drilled from the Jeffery's tube into Bones room and kidnapped the doctor.
Jim crawled again into the tube, checking the rim of the hole, and found it completely clean, but there were a few screwdriver scratches from within the room. It had been opened from inside. He climbed his way down the ladder. Below, it split off in four ways, like a major intersection. “Bones!” He called to the left, then the right. There was no response, not from McCoy, not from anyone. “Bones!” He yelled again. Frustrated and confused, he crawled back up.
He couldn’t tell where on earth Bones was, and he needed to call security, and damn it, he still needed to get that vaccine as soon as possible.
"Security, this is Captain James T. Kirk of the Enterprise. There's been a breach in the Jeffery's tube next to guestroom 105, and Dr. Leonard McCoy is missing. Please come investigate." Security confirmed, and would arrive shortly.
Still worried and confused, Jim had to find the vaccine. He glanced left and right, pushed clothes and belongings around until he found the medical bag. He tore into it, and found so many vials and cartridges that he could have started a chemistry set. Half of them weren’t even labeled.
“Damn it Bones!” He was so frustrated that he wanted to throw the damn medical kit against the wall. Instead he punted Bones shoes, then stopped himself from stupidly moving anything else in the compromised room. He didn’t know if he should be angry or worried. He ran his hands through his hair, took a deep breath, grabbed the medical bag, and left.
---
Reaper’s assassination attempt had gone horribly, and he considered his options. He could abandon the mission now, or he could attack again. Kheje would be on guard now. But Reaper didn’t have the time to wait it out for a few weeks or a few months. And he wanted this guy dead. He hated him already.
He thought hard about his next move, considered trying again after a few days. Would that give Kheje too much time to prepare? Kheje would be on alarm for the rest of the night, into the next 24 hours at least, but that could be an advantage. A paranoid target was easier to fight than a prepared target.
He snuck into the man’s quarters, barely avoiding the booby traps in the vents. Damn paranoid bastard. Reaper waited quietly for the Kheje and the man’s two bodyguards to settle down for the night.
He would attack when Kheje was asleep. Strangle the man in the middle of a dead sleep, then sneak away again. If he managed to do it quietly, then it would not be discovered until the next day.
But that’s not how things went.
“Boss, I left the girl in your bedroom.” One of the stooges nodded towards Kheje’s personal quarter, with its closed door.
“Ah, thank you.” Kheje smiled and nodded, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “She’s not too young, is she?”
“She sure is. If she’s a little too flat, you can let us have her.” The taller bodyguard suggested, glancing at his partner and the two of them smirked.
“But she’s got lots of fight!” The other added.
That interested Kheje. “A strong one, hmm? Well, if there’s a challenge, then I might enjoy this. I’m going to retire. Good night.”
The lackeys nodded, and settled themselves in the sitting area. They probably would not be sleeping at all.
Kheje disappeared. Just around the corner, Reaper pressed his back flat to the wall. The most silent way to sneak into Kheje Blumkrest’s quarters was on foot. There would be no traps he might set off, and if worst came to worst and the body guards did discover him, then he would strangle them both.
Right now, he was on the edge of being discovered. If just one person walked around the hall, and turned the corner, they would find him. His heart was pounding in his ears, beating hard, because he was in such a precarious position.
He waited with quiet, deep breaths as the bodyguards settled down. It would take a few hours before they would be unguarded and would not be paying attention. Then he could sneak into the room.
As he waited, he could hear a voice rise from bedroom, a girl’s voice. He could hear her muted yells.
If he was sensible, he would stay in hiding and wait for an hour or so. But as her yells became more distressed, Reaper made a quick, split moment decision.
Reaper snuck a glance at the bodyguards, who didn’t seem surprised or alarmed at the yelling. In fact they turned up the holovid’s volume just a bit. When he was as certain as he could be that they weren’t paying attention, Reaper snuck from the kitchen to the hall, heart in his throat as he had to cross the short open space where the guards might see him.
They noticed nothing. They weren’t even looking his direction. Relieved, Reaper allowed himself a satisfied smirk.
He snuck up to the bedroom door, and pressed his ear. He could hear the girl’s angry words. “Я хочу выйти! Я не хочу быть здесь, позвольте мне идти!”
The silky way she pronounced her consonants was very familiar, and she sounded younger and younger by the second. Reaper pulled out his handheld computer, and hooked it up to the entrance panel. He commanded the door to open. This way he was able to control the door without the system registering that he had ever used it.
Kheje was on the bed; his back was to the door. The girl was underneath his body, struggling. Kheje murmured even and soothing words, but the girl grew only more alarmed. Her clothing was pulled up, revealing her coltish legs, and as she shrieked, Reaper jumped, tackling the man, pulling him off of her. She screamed and ran, her torn shirt barely covering her.
"No!" Kheje shouted after her, angry, but immediately turned his attention to the attacker and snapped a flat palm into Reaper's jaw. It struck with such force that Reaper’s face swung to the side, spit flying from his mouth. His eyes widened, his breath gone. He was stunned.
So was the Kheje Blumkrest. "You...that should have broken your jaw."
Reaper spit blood from a momentarily loosened tooth and glared at the arrogant bastard. "And that shouldn't have hurt."
The two circled around each other, taking account of one another's stance. Kheje was thickly muscled, like Sarge had been, with a well-balanced stance. Reaper knew it would be a challenge to make him loose his footing. This man worked out. Fought. And was unnaturally strong.
Reaper hadn’t been expecting this when he came here.
Blumkrest spoke first. "I don’t appreciate you interrupting me, but meeting you is an almost welcome surprise. Were you the one who tried to poison me earlier? A strange poison, I’ve never seen a person die like that before.”
“You didn’t need to kill the others.”
Kheje smiled unkindly. “But that is their place. Surely you do not regret such petty deaths.”
Reaper just gritted his teeth, and kept circling.
Kheje eyed his opponent, and leaned deeply forward into his stance, covering his core. But it was primarily an offensive stance, with grappling hands ready and flexing. “I haven't seen your stance in many, many years.” Kheje commented. “Not since those Vulcan bastards came. Fighting styles have changed a lot, but you've got the foot work of long ago. Jiu jitsu? The way the military taught it. We can learn the new styles, but we can't change the foundations of our style away, can we?”
Still Reaper said nothing, and they circled around each other, each watching and assessing an unexpectedly strong opponent.
Kheje stopped circling, and spread his feet wide apart. “I've learned and fought against many styles over the years. But I think this will be very satisfying. Let's fight like men used to, when Earth was in its glory day."
"And when was that?" Reaper asked, sinking deeper into the balls of his feet.
The target grinned. "You tell me." Then Kheje lunged forward, hitting his shoulder into Reaper’s torso, grabbing at Reaper’s knees and ankles to make him lose his footing.
Reaper had been ready, had grounded himself, and steeled his balance. But he fell, to an opponent unnaturally strong. He grabbed the man by the neck as he fell to his back. The man blocked with a forearm, just as Reaper hooked his ankle around the target's, to reverse the hold. It worked, and Kheje lost his leverage, and the man’s next blow had less force behind it.
It still made Reaper’s head spin.
He was ready for it though, adrenaline pumping through him like it hadn't in decades, and he cut against the target's forehead once, twice, bam bam, before the man got a block off and they were now standing still, locked in a, pushing against each other, each unable to overpower the other.
Kheje panted, "It's been...so long since...I've had a fight like this."
Reaper grunted. "Really?" He pressed harder, gained a little ground, only to slowly lose it as the target pressed back, both of them straining.
Then a shot rang out, getting Reaper in the thigh. He cried out, and recoiled for just a moment, enough for Blumkrest to push forward, get Reaper on his stomach and pull his arms behind his back. Reaper was caught in a hold he couldn’t break out of.
"Ha! Haha!" The target laughed in victory, breathless. "Come, tie him up! Hurry, he's stronger than either of you two goons."
The bodyguards had been struggling to get the door unlocked since it closed behind Reaper. They ran over and tightly tied Reaper's hands. Kheje stepped away once Reaper was completely restrained, glowing from the victory.
“Amazing. Ah, I feel exhilarated!” Kheje panted, smiling.
"What should we do with him Boss?" The taller bodyguard asked.
"I have no idea," Blumkrest admitted. "But I want to keep him. What will it take to keep him down?" He leaned down over Reaper. "Do you respond to drugs? I could tranquilize you and keep you in a daze. That would make you manageable. Or I could fill you up with testosterone and steroids, until you vibrate with rage, ready to tear apart whatever piece of live meat I throw for you. Could I gamble on you in Klingon pit fits? I could keep you as a caged dog, my own little prized champion. And I'm sure anyone will pay up if I throw them in your cage for just a few minutes. Look at you, already vibrating with rage, very good!" Kheje was absolutely pleased as he stood over Reaper, watching the soldier vibrate with resentment.
One of the bodyguards took a step back. "Boss, we should put him down. This feels dangerous."
"Yes, you're probably right. But can't you just imagine the appeal of keeping a caged animal? Strong and powerful and deadly. And I’m the one with power over it.” Again, Kheje laughed in triumph. “Drag him to the holding cells, and see that his wound is attended to. And where did that girl get to? Find her."
Both goons nodded, and grabbed Reaper by the upper arms, dragging him away. The blood from his thigh smeared the carpet. Kheje reached down a finger to swipe at the stain curiously.
The bodyguards dragged Reaper through the carpeted halls, then through a heavy metal door, and down grate steps. He struggled in their grip, twisting his torso, shaking his shoulders, trying to throw them off, but always favoring his left leg. For now they held firm, but he would wait for a moment to catch them unawares. Already the pain had receded in his leg, and the wound had healed. It would leave no scar, nothing for Jim to notice.
But before he could worry about what Jim would think, he needed to get out of here. The biggest problem was Kheje Blumkrest. The man wasn't human. Not a regular human. And that worried John.
The cells had iron bars, another idea from the past. But there were also force field controls for every cell, and as soon as that field went up with Reaper in the cell, he wouldn't be able to get out. He let his body fall limp as the goons dragged him passed occupied sells, a few pairs of sullen eyes attached to beaten bodies watching him from the behind bars. All were citizens from the colony, most likely.
If the crazy man had his way, Reaper would be the howling lunatic in this group of silent, flinching prisoners, the one who screamed and banged himself against the walls of his cage, spraying his own blood within it, probably left to starve until he was willing to eat raw or live meat.
Leonard McCoy would never let himself succumb to that. He would rather starve slowly, with dignity, than become a raging lunatic. But there were drugs that could do that type of thing to a person. In large enough quantities, could they affect him? Was he really all that far from being a monster as he was?
The goons stopped in front of an empty cell, and the tall one reached for the control panel. The iron door slid open, and before they could throw him in, Reaper jumped, fully using both of his uninjured legs. They didn’t see it coming. Reaper pulled the legs out from underneath the tall one, who shouted as he fell, then jabbed the other in the liver with his elbow, twice. The short one keeled over and Reaper slammed down as hard as he could on the man's jaw, felt the snap, heard the scream, just as the tall one recovered, and tried to grab him. Reaper head butted the tall one so that he fell again, then rolled on top of him. The guard pulled a knife and in desperation, stabbed Reaper in the ribs, holding onto the hilt as they struggled, so that the knife twisted in Reaper’s gut. McCoy didn't let the pain or the wound distract him from biting at the man’s ears.
It was ripped off pathetically easily, and the man screamed and screamed, holding at the bleeding stump on the side of his head.
Reaper rolled off the wriggling man, and awkwardly grabbed the hilt of the knife, and wrenched it from his side with a pained grunt. He used the knife to cut the bindings that still held his hands together.
To the side, the short man with the broken jaw still wriggled around, curled up in the fetal position.
The tall one was standing up though, eyes wild with pain and rage, blood streaming from the side of his head.
“Don’t get into a fight you can’t win,” Reaper told him.
From his belt, the man pulled a new knife and sliced it through the air. Reaper blocked with his forearm, then punched the man in the gut. He slid down to the floor and didn’t get up again.
The sullen eyes of everyone in the room were now wide, and they shrunk away from him in fear as he passed. There was only one door out of the corridor of cells, and when Reaper reached it, he hesitated. He looked behind him, at all the prisoners.
There was a master control panel by the exit. He pulled out his override computer that he had bought for hundreds of thousands of credits for use in breaking into highly secured areas. The commands it accepted were limited and simple, and he hooked it up to the control panel, and commanded OPEN, hoping the systems would sync.
They did. All doors opened, all force fields disengaged.
Hesitantly, a few hands reached out, disbelieving.
Reaper didn't wait. He left the door open on his way out.
---
A teenaged girl ran out of the halls, into the main area of the space station, sobbing. She was barely clothed.
Lieutenant Hanity looked up from the pearls she had been feeling, listening closely to zoom in on the distress. Next to her, Giotto from Enterprise Security straightened his shoulders. “What’s going on?” He muttered. Hanity’s penetrating, if nearly blind, gaze stared long and hard in the girl’s direction. She was normally awake at this time. Giotto was gradually spending more time in conjunction with her hours.
Space station security officers grabbed the nearly naked girl, and caroled her to the side unkindly. Citizens glanced in curiosity and confusion, but quickly obeyed when security ordered them away. The girl reached out towards the people around her, and just screamed louder.
While everyone around them continued on their way, Giotto strode right over to the ruckus. “Hey! What’s going on here?”
The girl, seeing someone help for the first time, reached out towards him, saying words he didn’t know, but he could tell that she was begging for help.
“Помогите мне! Помогите мне! Я хочу мою маму!”
“Back off,” one of the space station security officers warned. “We’re taking this girl into custody.”
Giotto had dealt with people who resisted help before, but this felt wrong. The girl was terrified of the DS3 security, not of anyone else.
Giotto folded his arms. “She looks hurt. Are you taking her to get help?”
“After we sedate her.” One security officer assured, and the girl kicked and screamed in his arms.
“Maybe I can help you out with that.” Giotto offered. He started to reach a hand out to her, and the girl eagerly reached back, seemingly welcoming anyone who wasn’t security, but the guards pulled her arms behind her back, and pulled her out of Giotto’ reach.
“Back off buddy!” One security officer threatened, getting into Giotto’ face. “Or we’ll throw you in jail too!”
“Why are you arresting her?” Giotto demanded.
“She’s exposing herself!”
“She looks like she was attacked! I want you to take her to the medbay right now-”
“That’s it, I’m arresting you-”
“I’m Lieutenant Commander Giotto of the Enterprise,” he stepped forward, until they were almost nose to nose, and stared down into the man’s eyes. “Now do you want to arrest me for attempting to help a civilian?”
The space station security officer gapped. “You- you don’t have jurisdiction here-”
“Who do you answer to? A corporal? I answer to Captain James Kirk. We can pull our bosses into this, and let them have a pissing match if you’d like. Somehow, I bet you don’t want Captain Shralev hearing about this.” Giotto stepped forward again, just a minute step, so that he was chest to chest with the protesting security officer. He was taller than any of them.
The girl’s head had snapped up when she heard the names “Enterprise” and “James Kirk”, looking hopeful. The station security glanced nervously between each other, before releasing the girl. She grabbed Giotto by the arm and held on tight, suspiciously watching the security officers, muttering angry, lilting words. “Умрите, Вы грязные ублюдки!” Then she looked up Giotto hopefully and said, “Вы можете взять меня к Enterprise? Pavel Andrievich, Я хочу видеть Pavel Andrievich Chekov!”
“Uh, yeah, we’ll get him.” Giotto tried to reassure.
But the station security wasn’t done yet, and, glancing nervously between the girl, and Giotto, on of them tried to make amends. “Look sir, maybe you don’t have to mention this to anyone? We can pay you what we’re getting paid.”
Giotto glowered, and that’s when the security officers realized how much trouble they were really in.
---
"Svetlana!" Chekov called out, and the half-naked girl ran straight into his arms.
He had called the Enterprise for help when he discovered his family had been attacked. Giotto and Hanity had brought the girl to the Enterprise, and he had rushed up to see her as soon as he heard.
Svetlana cried into Chekov’s chest, and he rocked her in his arms, whispering to her in Russian.
" Ты безопасны. Ты безопасны. Я защищу мебе. Ты безопасны."
Spock, who had been pulled into the matter late at night without complaint, tilted his head and watched the two. “This is the girl you mentioned was missing?”
Chekov barely looked up. “Yes. She is my cousin.”
“I had heard you had family on Deep Space Three. I do not mean to intrude, but does she need medical assistance?”
“Eh? Ah, just a moment. Ты повреждаете? Ты должны видеть доктора? Нет? Скажите мне немедленно, если Ты нуждаетесь в докторе.” Chekov pulled her hair back as he spoke to her, examining all of her.
The girl shook her head emphatically, and spoke rapidly back. “Я безопасен, я безопасен. Человек, он приехал, он спас меня. Вы защитили меня Pavel, он защитили меня.”
(To get the point across, I want her to say, “Я безопасен, я безопасен. A man came and saved me! You sent him, didn’t you Pasha? Did you send the man to save me?”)
“Shh, shhh,” Chekov hushed her, glancing between Spock and the girl. “She says she is not hurt, but can we still take her to a doctor?”
Spock nodded. “That would be sensible. I think we should keep her on the Enterprise for the time period, given the suspicious circumstances that the Chief Giotto has spoken of. Would you help us report what happened?”
“Yes, yes, absolutely! мы выходим, Svetlana.” And he guided her to the medbay.
---
An hour later, she had been checked out and found unharmed. Chekov watched as his cousin slept on the Enterprise’s medical bed, slouched in a chair.
“Hey there, I heard what happened,” Uhura quietly walked up behind them, respectfully intruding. She was dressed in little more than sweats, and her hair was brushed but unstyled. Spock had unintentionally woke her up when he was pulled away to take care matters, first by a comm from Jim, then by a security matter that came in as he tried to crawl back into bed. Uhura had gotten up when she found out it involved Chekov. “Is she okay?”
Chekov smiled sadly. “She is unhurt. I am very thankful.”
Uhura nodded in understanding, and bit her lip. “You’ve been worried about her for awhile, haven’t you?”
Chekov didn’t answer for a moment, staring sadly at his cousin, and pushing a strand of hair out of her sleeping eyes. “You will not say anything?” He asked without looking at Uhura.
She sat down in a chair opposite him, and very seriously answered. “I won’t if you tell me not too.”
Chekov looked up at her, considering.
“I didn’t know you were so cautious.” Uhura realized.
“Often, I have no need to be.” He acknowledged.
“It’s a good trait, considering the amount of determined recklessness that is on the Bridge.”
Chekov laughed. Uhura was happy to see him smile.
“You and the Keptin, you are funny together. I zink he likes troubling you.”
Uhura rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how right you are. Sometimes I just want to take his big inflated head, and shake it until he pops.”
He laughed again, and she smiled with him. As his laughter settled down again, he turned his attention to the young girl once again.
“I am glad she is here on Enterprise. Do you think we can bring all my family on board?”
“Her brothers and her mother? Probably. Spock and Jim would definitely make it happen if there’s reason for it. Do you think they are in danger?”
“Yes.”
Uhura nodded, taking the situation very seriously, but cautious about what questions to ask. “Alright. Should we tell security?”
“Don’t tell the space station security! I do not trust them.”
“You alerted us that your family had been attacked, but not the station’s security. Why don’t you trust them?”
“Because they are the ones that kidnapped Svetlana.”
Uhura took a breath. This was a whole different can of worms than she expected it to be. She needed to tell Jim and Spock.
“They kidnapped her?”
“Yes, zey came into my aunt’s home, and took her. Zey’ve been threatening my aunt for many weeks. My mother is very scared and worried for them. I am very scared and worried.”
Uhura almost asked, Why didn’t you say something sooner? But that would have sounded accusing. She carefully chose her words. “Then let’s get your family out of there. Do you know why they were being threatened?”
This time Chekov was reluctant again, pausing and looking around the room to make sure no one was paying attention, before secretly answering, “My aunt owes money. Much money.”
“To who?”
“I…do not know who.” Chekov looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. “But it is someone powerful. He, I mean, this person has control over many people on the space station.”
“Alright. Then let’s get your family off of there right away. Stay with her, I’ll take care of it.” Spock would probably have Giotto send several Enterprise security officers to escort the family off of the space station. And she needed to find Jim. This changed the atmosphere of their visit completely.
---
Jim still couldn’t find Bones, and he was getting worried. But at least space station security was looking into it.
Shralev’s people had wanted the vaccine right away, and to his dismay, Spock had told him that Enterprise had no left over stock. All of their vaccine had been used up. There might be one left in Bones’ medbag, but Jim did not know which of the many vials in that bag was the right one. He had almost handed the whole bag over to the space station’s medical crew, but held back because Bones was never comfortable with anyone else touching his supplies. So Jim had beamed the bag back to Enterprise and asked Chapel to find the right one.
---
Christine Chapel stumbled awake at the call. It was a page for a non-medical emergency, but it was coming from command. “H-hello?”
“Nurse Chapel.” It was Commander Spock. Chapel was suddenly embarrassed by her tangled hair and lack of bra, even though the comm was audio only. Spock certainly took no notice. “We would like you to investigate Dr. McCoy’s supplies. There is an urgent need for a copy of the Brogun vaccine, and we are attempting to find a copy in the doctor’s personal medical bag. I would ask Dr. M’Benga, but Jim insisted that it be you.”
“Dr. McCoy’s medical bag? He can’t find it himself?”
“His current whereabouts are unknown. We are not sure yet if there is cause for concern.”
That woke Christine up, more than anything else. “Dr. McCoy is missing?”
“Yes. And there has also been a break out of Brogun fasciitis on the space station.” If Spock was tired or worn out, his voice didn’t show it. “Expediency in finding a copy of the vaccine would be beneficial. Will you be able to do this task?”
“Yes, absolutely. I’ll arrive at Medical shortly.”
---
Walking back to Captain Shralev’s command room, and rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm, Jim saw a glimpse of a black figure slipping through a corridor. For just a moment, he thought it was Bones.
Jim’s head snapped to look again, but the man was already gone. It had just been a figure covered in black that he had seen out of the corner of his eyes, and it had vanished suspiciously quickly. There was no way he could have recognized it as Bones, or even as human, but something about the way the figure had moved, Jim had thought for an instance that it was Bones and his broad shoulders sneaking around the corner.
Jim jogged over to the shadowed corridor, and saw it was empty. But a few meters in, amongst the grime and filth that Jim still couldn’t believe was on a Federation station, he found a wobbly panel. The bolts on it had been loosely screwed back on, and Jim was able to pull it off and look inside. Inside was no circuitry or storage tank, but a Jeffery’s tube. And a pair of boots had been abandoned beside the panel.
---
Reaper climbed up the ladder steps in the Jeffery’s tube, finally reaching the panel for his guest room. With a sigh, not sure how to handle the situation left with Kheje Blumkrest, he pushed the panel open, and crawled through.
“Halt! Stop right there, or we’ll shoot!”
The lights flashed on, and Bones froze, one knee on the carpet, the other foot still on the ladder. There were three station security officers in the guest room, all pointing phasers at him.
“Don’t move! Crawl onto the floor and lay down.”
Reaper could push back out the Jeffery’s tube, let himself fall down 20 meters and run. But then he wouldn’t just be Reaper running away, he would be Leonard McCoy resisting arrest. He could kill them all, and then…then what? Three dead security guards in Leonard McCoy’s rooms. That would be incriminating.
“Lay down, sir!”
He didn’t know what if they were just arresting him for crawling through a Jeffery’s tube unauthorized, or for something else. Attacking could make matters worse. Mouth pressed into a flat, unhappy line, Bones chose to stay. He laid down on the carpet, and let himself be restrained.
---
"Bones, what was that back there?" Jim asked once they were on their own.
"Back, what? You mean how snooty the Andorian was being?" McCoy asked in confusion.
"When we gave the body to Captain Shralev, you were giving him the funny eye."
"I don't have no 'funny eye' Jim, so don't give me that malarkey," Leonard harrumphed. They were walking down the market area on DS3, where all the shops and restaurants were. It was dirty here too, with floors covered in grime and trash. There were so many people here that contagions would spread rapidly. It was so congested here that a person could slip into the crowd and disappear.
"Stop, Bones, stop." Jim came to a halt, and Leonard stopped with him. "I saw the way you looked at him. What were you thinking?"
McCoy shrugged. "I just thought he didn't seem to like the Ambassador at all."
Jim nodded and looked down, considering. "Yeah. Yeah, I thought so too. Do you think there might have been foul play?" He asked frankly.
"What? No! Jim, I saw that man die myself. I am damn sure I know what killed him."
"And it was natural?"
"It was natural, Jim," he lied.
Jim let the thought go, reluctantly, and changed the subject. "By the way, how did that white flower stuff work out?"
"You mean the flower from Irgon?" It was something they had picked up during a scientific mission on an uninhabited planet. McCoy had seen the possibilities for it as soon as he had run a scan. "Piss poor. I figured I'd be able to use the molecular binding components in it to support some of the less stable molecules in viral annihilators. But the connections are still too damn delicate. Every method I’ve tried to bind them ends up collapsing. That was another dead end."
Jim patted him on the back, and used the gesture to pull Bones in for a sideways hug. "Too bad Bones. You'll find a way eventually. Hey, is that Chinese food?" He waved to a restaurant.
Bones wrapped his arm around Jim’s waist too, and they walked together hip to hip. "I think it is, Jim. Have we struck gold?"
"We certainly have. Come on, we're not gonna get the chance to eat at a Chinese restaurant again until we hit San Francisco."
---
"Aunt Uljyana, I am here! Aunt Uljyana?" Pavel knocked on the door to his aunt's place. He could hear movement inside, and the wailing of one of the boys. The worry that had consumed him for the last several weeks, grew. "Aunt Uljyana? Can you come to the door? Пожалуйста препятствуйте мне внутри."
Slowly the door slid open, and a young boy peeked out, tear stains running down his cheeks. Pavel knelt down and reached out to the boy. "Osip, what’s wrong? Do you remember me? It's Pasha! Come here. Pasha здесь теперь. Что неправильно?" With the door open, Pavel could hear that it wasn’t one of the boys crying, but a woman.
Osip bit his lip, and said nothing. It had been about five years since they last saw each other in person, and Pavel hoped the boy recognized him. "Не потревожьтесь. Pasha здесь теперь. Pasha сделает все лучше." He pulled the boy into a hug, and Osip smiled just a little.
He kissed the boy on the head, squeezed just a bit tighter, then let go. "Osip, Где ваша мать? Take me to your mother."
The boy lead him inside by the hand. There was a table overturned, a chair too, a broken lamp on the floor. The crying was coming from a small bedroom. It had two beds for children, and a crib. Inside, his aunt was crying on the floor.
Pavel's throat went dry. "Что случалось?"
---
The Chinese food was a bad idea, because it gave Bones a terrible, terrible upset stomach. The restaurant’s kitchen probably wasn’t properly cleaned, and was almost certainly full of grime and grease and cooks who didn’t wash their hands.
McCoy went to bed early, in his own private guest room, closing the door on Jim’s disappointed face.
He locked the door securely.
Leonard McCoy undressed, taking off his shirt and boots, leaving on just the skin tight black clothes. He pulled on thick, but malleable gloves and brought out the fresh new boots, and slipped them on. Tied them tightly.
From his medical pack he pulled out two things: one a vial of fluid, the other a compact but powerful computer. It was just a little bigger than a tricorder, and it had hook ups for just about every possible connection in known space. Some were well tested, others were more iffy. But he wasn’t going to hack into a Klingon spaceship, he was working on a Federation built system, and this would computer would allow him to hack into all doors and entryways with complete confidence.
His room didn’t have a scenic view of the market place, like Jim’s did. This room didn’t have any view or windows at all. It was in the central area, because he had complained that he didn’t want a hull room. The windows to space were popular with most, but not with Dr. Leonard McCoy. He didn’t want to be the first person exposed to pressure loss if the hull was damaged.
And with a bit of luck, this room was right next to a (hopefully) little used Jeffrey tube. He started to open the panel on the far wall.
The man who slipped into the Jeffery’s tube wasn’t Leonard McCoy. It was a dark, silent shadow. It was the Reaper.
---
Kheje Blumkrest owned the Chinese restaurant. McCoy had seen him sitting in the corner, with several bodyguards, eating slowly and watching the crowd. He was a well-dressed man, who cared for appearances, and smiled effortlessly. The staff had been professional when dealing with him, but walked nervously.
Kheje worked within the traditional human schedule, and Reaper expected the man might go home soon. However Kheje ordered one more drink.
The vial and let a few drops in the man’s drink, while the bartender wasn’t looking.
He'd gotten used to working in subterfuge and assassination from a distance. It could be exciting in its own way. As a beginner, centuries ago, he had learned how most of battle was waiting, and experience proved how true that was. Though he did miss the true adrenaline rush of melee, where one's life relied on speed, reactions and luck.
He hid as a waitress unknowingly brought out the poisoned drink. Kheje took it and lifted the glass to drink. Then he hesitated.
Reaper held his breath. The man couldn’t possibly know.
Kheje smiled at the waitress. “You are new here, aren’t you my dear?”
The waitress nodded, and uneasily flattened her skirt.
“Then you haven’t sampled the food yet, have you?”
The young waitress shook her head.
“I thought not. Please, come try my drink.”
Reaper froze. Then watched, horrified, as the young woman took a sip.
The compound worked quickly. After swallowing, she began to cough, holding her throat. She did not cough up blood, because the metal eater absorbed the blood. She gasped as her esophagus swelled, and fell to her knees, held a hand over her chest. When iron in the human system was absorbed by the metal eater it created a chemical waste of mostly air and bubbles. Her stomach swelled with the foam, then the froth was forced up and out her swollen esophagus, out her mouth and nose. Unseen, it also filled her veins and arteries, making them bursts. She collapsed, dead, as the other waiters and the cook screamed and tried to help.
Kheje Blumkrest looked down at her unmoving body dispassionately. The spilled drink began to foam as it ate the metallic floor. Kheje sipped his water instead. "Kill the bartender and the cook," the villain ordered his bodyguards. “The rest of you, remember to always taste my food before it’s served."
Reaper ground his teeth in anger.
---
“Captain, we have a problem.”
Both Kirk and Shralev looked up, somewhat alarmed at the urgent tone of the lieutenant’s voice. Before them, the viewing platform showed hundreds of Federation citizens, some winding down to call it a day, others just beginning. The two captains had been cordially conversing in the governor’s observation room. Jim had joined the governor after dropping Bones off, unwilling to waste time spending it by himself. The two of them did have political matters to discuss, and the Andorian would not sleep for many hours more. Personally, Jim found the Andorian almost as stiff as a Vulcan. There was usually some spark in the antenna-heads, but Shralev hid behind an extremely formal facade.
“What is wrong?” The governor asked the lieutenant.
“Sir, Medical reports that a human just arrived in sickbay. And he looks like he may have Brogun. He arrived on the station with one of the small ships earlier today. We’re moving everyone else from his ship to quarantine, but they’ve already exposed the rest of the station by this point.”
Captain Shralev cursed. “Fcerma! We scan everyone when they board, but there’s no way to detect Brogun until they’re sick.”
“Guess we got the vaccine here just in time.” Kirk leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms.
Shralev only relaxed a little. “Yes, I am thankful for that. Have the doctors begin administering the vaccine to everyone immediately. Hopefully we can prevent any deaths that way.”
The lieutenant looked extremely uncomfortable. “Captain, actually, the real problem is, well, I came to tell you…you see, it’s the cargo. Some of it has gone missing.”
Captain Shralev was dismayed. “What?”
“The whole palette of Brogan vaccine is missing, sir.”
“How?” Kirk demanded. “We watched it unloaded just earlier today!”
“We don’t know! No one saw it happen; the security feeds go blank for an hour, and the security guards didn’t see it happen. We’re looking into it, sirs!” The lieutenant pleaded.
“Find it,” Captain Shralev ordered. “It must be somewhere on the station, so find it! Creposfc neghr,” he cursed. “All we can do is quarantine anyone exposed to it.”
Kirk thought fast. “We may still have some on the Enterprise, leftover from inoculating my crew. Not much, maybe a few doses.”
“But Medical might be able to cultivate duplicates.” Shralev realized.
Jim jumped into action. “I’ll be right back.”
---
Jim contacted the Enterprise, and asked the Medbay to send any and all Brogun fasciitis vaccines to DS3. Then he went to McCoy’s guestroom, and banged on the door.
“Bones! Bones, I need your medical bag! Bones? Wake up!”
When the doctor didn’t answer, Jim overrode the lock.
“Bones, you’re sleeping like the dead, wake up!”
Strangely, there was no reply. Not a holler or even a sleepy grunt.
“Bones?”
Jim turned on the lights, and found the bed unused, with clothes on the floor. The bathroom was empty. But a panel had been pulled off the wall, revealing a Jeffery’s tube.
Jim stared at it, perplexed.
He leaned into the Jeffery’s tube. “Bones?” It echoed down and around.
He pulled himself back out, and glanced around the room again. Maybe the grumpy doctor had just gone out for a walk, or maybe to get a drink. But Bones’ well worn shoes were on the floor, abandoned. And a wall panel had been removed. If this was Sulu, he would have known exactly where to look.
But Bones? In a Jeffery's tube?
Had Bones abandoned Jim at the end of the evening, just to go tear a hole out of the wall and climb down a twenty meter long passageway, then disappear into the hidden passageways of the space station without his shoes?
It was so unlikely that Jim didn’t know how to wrap his mind around idea. In fact, it was downright suspicious. Maybe someone had drilled from the Jeffery's tube into Bones room and kidnapped the doctor.
Jim crawled again into the tube, checking the rim of the hole, and found it completely clean, but there were a few screwdriver scratches from within the room. It had been opened from inside. He climbed his way down the ladder. Below, it split off in four ways, like a major intersection. “Bones!” He called to the left, then the right. There was no response, not from McCoy, not from anyone. “Bones!” He yelled again. Frustrated and confused, he crawled back up.
He couldn’t tell where on earth Bones was, and he needed to call security, and damn it, he still needed to get that vaccine as soon as possible.
"Security, this is Captain James T. Kirk of the Enterprise. There's been a breach in the Jeffery's tube next to guestroom 105, and Dr. Leonard McCoy is missing. Please come investigate." Security confirmed, and would arrive shortly.
Still worried and confused, Jim had to find the vaccine. He glanced left and right, pushed clothes and belongings around until he found the medical bag. He tore into it, and found so many vials and cartridges that he could have started a chemistry set. Half of them weren’t even labeled.
“Damn it Bones!” He was so frustrated that he wanted to throw the damn medical kit against the wall. Instead he punted Bones shoes, then stopped himself from stupidly moving anything else in the compromised room. He didn’t know if he should be angry or worried. He ran his hands through his hair, took a deep breath, grabbed the medical bag, and left.
---
Reaper’s assassination attempt had gone horribly, and he considered his options. He could abandon the mission now, or he could attack again. Kheje would be on guard now. But Reaper didn’t have the time to wait it out for a few weeks or a few months. And he wanted this guy dead. He hated him already.
He thought hard about his next move, considered trying again after a few days. Would that give Kheje too much time to prepare? Kheje would be on alarm for the rest of the night, into the next 24 hours at least, but that could be an advantage. A paranoid target was easier to fight than a prepared target.
He snuck into the man’s quarters, barely avoiding the booby traps in the vents. Damn paranoid bastard. Reaper waited quietly for the Kheje and the man’s two bodyguards to settle down for the night.
He would attack when Kheje was asleep. Strangle the man in the middle of a dead sleep, then sneak away again. If he managed to do it quietly, then it would not be discovered until the next day.
But that’s not how things went.
“Boss, I left the girl in your bedroom.” One of the stooges nodded towards Kheje’s personal quarter, with its closed door.
“Ah, thank you.” Kheje smiled and nodded, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “She’s not too young, is she?”
“She sure is. If she’s a little too flat, you can let us have her.” The taller bodyguard suggested, glancing at his partner and the two of them smirked.
“But she’s got lots of fight!” The other added.
That interested Kheje. “A strong one, hmm? Well, if there’s a challenge, then I might enjoy this. I’m going to retire. Good night.”
The lackeys nodded, and settled themselves in the sitting area. They probably would not be sleeping at all.
Kheje disappeared. Just around the corner, Reaper pressed his back flat to the wall. The most silent way to sneak into Kheje Blumkrest’s quarters was on foot. There would be no traps he might set off, and if worst came to worst and the body guards did discover him, then he would strangle them both.
Right now, he was on the edge of being discovered. If just one person walked around the hall, and turned the corner, they would find him. His heart was pounding in his ears, beating hard, because he was in such a precarious position.
He waited with quiet, deep breaths as the bodyguards settled down. It would take a few hours before they would be unguarded and would not be paying attention. Then he could sneak into the room.
As he waited, he could hear a voice rise from bedroom, a girl’s voice. He could hear her muted yells.
If he was sensible, he would stay in hiding and wait for an hour or so. But as her yells became more distressed, Reaper made a quick, split moment decision.
Reaper snuck a glance at the bodyguards, who didn’t seem surprised or alarmed at the yelling. In fact they turned up the holovid’s volume just a bit. When he was as certain as he could be that they weren’t paying attention, Reaper snuck from the kitchen to the hall, heart in his throat as he had to cross the short open space where the guards might see him.
They noticed nothing. They weren’t even looking his direction. Relieved, Reaper allowed himself a satisfied smirk.
He snuck up to the bedroom door, and pressed his ear. He could hear the girl’s angry words. “Я хочу выйти! Я не хочу быть здесь, позвольте мне идти!”
The silky way she pronounced her consonants was very familiar, and she sounded younger and younger by the second. Reaper pulled out his handheld computer, and hooked it up to the entrance panel. He commanded the door to open. This way he was able to control the door without the system registering that he had ever used it.
Kheje was on the bed; his back was to the door. The girl was underneath his body, struggling. Kheje murmured even and soothing words, but the girl grew only more alarmed. Her clothing was pulled up, revealing her coltish legs, and as she shrieked, Reaper jumped, tackling the man, pulling him off of her. She screamed and ran, her torn shirt barely covering her.
"No!" Kheje shouted after her, angry, but immediately turned his attention to the attacker and snapped a flat palm into Reaper's jaw. It struck with such force that Reaper’s face swung to the side, spit flying from his mouth. His eyes widened, his breath gone. He was stunned.
So was the Kheje Blumkrest. "You...that should have broken your jaw."
Reaper spit blood from a momentarily loosened tooth and glared at the arrogant bastard. "And that shouldn't have hurt."
The two circled around each other, taking account of one another's stance. Kheje was thickly muscled, like Sarge had been, with a well-balanced stance. Reaper knew it would be a challenge to make him loose his footing. This man worked out. Fought. And was unnaturally strong.
Reaper hadn’t been expecting this when he came here.
Blumkrest spoke first. "I don’t appreciate you interrupting me, but meeting you is an almost welcome surprise. Were you the one who tried to poison me earlier? A strange poison, I’ve never seen a person die like that before.”
“You didn’t need to kill the others.”
Kheje smiled unkindly. “But that is their place. Surely you do not regret such petty deaths.”
Reaper just gritted his teeth, and kept circling.
Kheje eyed his opponent, and leaned deeply forward into his stance, covering his core. But it was primarily an offensive stance, with grappling hands ready and flexing. “I haven't seen your stance in many, many years.” Kheje commented. “Not since those Vulcan bastards came. Fighting styles have changed a lot, but you've got the foot work of long ago. Jiu jitsu? The way the military taught it. We can learn the new styles, but we can't change the foundations of our style away, can we?”
Still Reaper said nothing, and they circled around each other, each watching and assessing an unexpectedly strong opponent.
Kheje stopped circling, and spread his feet wide apart. “I've learned and fought against many styles over the years. But I think this will be very satisfying. Let's fight like men used to, when Earth was in its glory day."
"And when was that?" Reaper asked, sinking deeper into the balls of his feet.
The target grinned. "You tell me." Then Kheje lunged forward, hitting his shoulder into Reaper’s torso, grabbing at Reaper’s knees and ankles to make him lose his footing.
Reaper had been ready, had grounded himself, and steeled his balance. But he fell, to an opponent unnaturally strong. He grabbed the man by the neck as he fell to his back. The man blocked with a forearm, just as Reaper hooked his ankle around the target's, to reverse the hold. It worked, and Kheje lost his leverage, and the man’s next blow had less force behind it.
It still made Reaper’s head spin.
He was ready for it though, adrenaline pumping through him like it hadn't in decades, and he cut against the target's forehead once, twice, bam bam, before the man got a block off and they were now standing still, locked in a, pushing against each other, each unable to overpower the other.
Kheje panted, "It's been...so long since...I've had a fight like this."
Reaper grunted. "Really?" He pressed harder, gained a little ground, only to slowly lose it as the target pressed back, both of them straining.
Then a shot rang out, getting Reaper in the thigh. He cried out, and recoiled for just a moment, enough for Blumkrest to push forward, get Reaper on his stomach and pull his arms behind his back. Reaper was caught in a hold he couldn’t break out of.
"Ha! Haha!" The target laughed in victory, breathless. "Come, tie him up! Hurry, he's stronger than either of you two goons."
The bodyguards had been struggling to get the door unlocked since it closed behind Reaper. They ran over and tightly tied Reaper's hands. Kheje stepped away once Reaper was completely restrained, glowing from the victory.
“Amazing. Ah, I feel exhilarated!” Kheje panted, smiling.
"What should we do with him Boss?" The taller bodyguard asked.
"I have no idea," Blumkrest admitted. "But I want to keep him. What will it take to keep him down?" He leaned down over Reaper. "Do you respond to drugs? I could tranquilize you and keep you in a daze. That would make you manageable. Or I could fill you up with testosterone and steroids, until you vibrate with rage, ready to tear apart whatever piece of live meat I throw for you. Could I gamble on you in Klingon pit fits? I could keep you as a caged dog, my own little prized champion. And I'm sure anyone will pay up if I throw them in your cage for just a few minutes. Look at you, already vibrating with rage, very good!" Kheje was absolutely pleased as he stood over Reaper, watching the soldier vibrate with resentment.
One of the bodyguards took a step back. "Boss, we should put him down. This feels dangerous."
"Yes, you're probably right. But can't you just imagine the appeal of keeping a caged animal? Strong and powerful and deadly. And I’m the one with power over it.” Again, Kheje laughed in triumph. “Drag him to the holding cells, and see that his wound is attended to. And where did that girl get to? Find her."
Both goons nodded, and grabbed Reaper by the upper arms, dragging him away. The blood from his thigh smeared the carpet. Kheje reached down a finger to swipe at the stain curiously.
The bodyguards dragged Reaper through the carpeted halls, then through a heavy metal door, and down grate steps. He struggled in their grip, twisting his torso, shaking his shoulders, trying to throw them off, but always favoring his left leg. For now they held firm, but he would wait for a moment to catch them unawares. Already the pain had receded in his leg, and the wound had healed. It would leave no scar, nothing for Jim to notice.
But before he could worry about what Jim would think, he needed to get out of here. The biggest problem was Kheje Blumkrest. The man wasn't human. Not a regular human. And that worried John.
The cells had iron bars, another idea from the past. But there were also force field controls for every cell, and as soon as that field went up with Reaper in the cell, he wouldn't be able to get out. He let his body fall limp as the goons dragged him passed occupied sells, a few pairs of sullen eyes attached to beaten bodies watching him from the behind bars. All were citizens from the colony, most likely.
If the crazy man had his way, Reaper would be the howling lunatic in this group of silent, flinching prisoners, the one who screamed and banged himself against the walls of his cage, spraying his own blood within it, probably left to starve until he was willing to eat raw or live meat.
Leonard McCoy would never let himself succumb to that. He would rather starve slowly, with dignity, than become a raging lunatic. But there were drugs that could do that type of thing to a person. In large enough quantities, could they affect him? Was he really all that far from being a monster as he was?
The goons stopped in front of an empty cell, and the tall one reached for the control panel. The iron door slid open, and before they could throw him in, Reaper jumped, fully using both of his uninjured legs. They didn’t see it coming. Reaper pulled the legs out from underneath the tall one, who shouted as he fell, then jabbed the other in the liver with his elbow, twice. The short one keeled over and Reaper slammed down as hard as he could on the man's jaw, felt the snap, heard the scream, just as the tall one recovered, and tried to grab him. Reaper head butted the tall one so that he fell again, then rolled on top of him. The guard pulled a knife and in desperation, stabbed Reaper in the ribs, holding onto the hilt as they struggled, so that the knife twisted in Reaper’s gut. McCoy didn't let the pain or the wound distract him from biting at the man’s ears.
It was ripped off pathetically easily, and the man screamed and screamed, holding at the bleeding stump on the side of his head.
Reaper rolled off the wriggling man, and awkwardly grabbed the hilt of the knife, and wrenched it from his side with a pained grunt. He used the knife to cut the bindings that still held his hands together.
To the side, the short man with the broken jaw still wriggled around, curled up in the fetal position.
The tall one was standing up though, eyes wild with pain and rage, blood streaming from the side of his head.
“Don’t get into a fight you can’t win,” Reaper told him.
From his belt, the man pulled a new knife and sliced it through the air. Reaper blocked with his forearm, then punched the man in the gut. He slid down to the floor and didn’t get up again.
The sullen eyes of everyone in the room were now wide, and they shrunk away from him in fear as he passed. There was only one door out of the corridor of cells, and when Reaper reached it, he hesitated. He looked behind him, at all the prisoners.
There was a master control panel by the exit. He pulled out his override computer that he had bought for hundreds of thousands of credits for use in breaking into highly secured areas. The commands it accepted were limited and simple, and he hooked it up to the control panel, and commanded OPEN, hoping the systems would sync.
They did. All doors opened, all force fields disengaged.
Hesitantly, a few hands reached out, disbelieving.
Reaper didn't wait. He left the door open on his way out.
---
A teenaged girl ran out of the halls, into the main area of the space station, sobbing. She was barely clothed.
Lieutenant Hanity looked up from the pearls she had been feeling, listening closely to zoom in on the distress. Next to her, Giotto from Enterprise Security straightened his shoulders. “What’s going on?” He muttered. Hanity’s penetrating, if nearly blind, gaze stared long and hard in the girl’s direction. She was normally awake at this time. Giotto was gradually spending more time in conjunction with her hours.
Space station security officers grabbed the nearly naked girl, and caroled her to the side unkindly. Citizens glanced in curiosity and confusion, but quickly obeyed when security ordered them away. The girl reached out towards the people around her, and just screamed louder.
While everyone around them continued on their way, Giotto strode right over to the ruckus. “Hey! What’s going on here?”
The girl, seeing someone help for the first time, reached out towards him, saying words he didn’t know, but he could tell that she was begging for help.
“Помогите мне! Помогите мне! Я хочу мою маму!”
“Back off,” one of the space station security officers warned. “We’re taking this girl into custody.”
Giotto had dealt with people who resisted help before, but this felt wrong. The girl was terrified of the DS3 security, not of anyone else.
Giotto folded his arms. “She looks hurt. Are you taking her to get help?”
“After we sedate her.” One security officer assured, and the girl kicked and screamed in his arms.
“Maybe I can help you out with that.” Giotto offered. He started to reach a hand out to her, and the girl eagerly reached back, seemingly welcoming anyone who wasn’t security, but the guards pulled her arms behind her back, and pulled her out of Giotto’ reach.
“Back off buddy!” One security officer threatened, getting into Giotto’ face. “Or we’ll throw you in jail too!”
“Why are you arresting her?” Giotto demanded.
“She’s exposing herself!”
“She looks like she was attacked! I want you to take her to the medbay right now-”
“That’s it, I’m arresting you-”
“I’m Lieutenant Commander Giotto of the Enterprise,” he stepped forward, until they were almost nose to nose, and stared down into the man’s eyes. “Now do you want to arrest me for attempting to help a civilian?”
The space station security officer gapped. “You- you don’t have jurisdiction here-”
“Who do you answer to? A corporal? I answer to Captain James Kirk. We can pull our bosses into this, and let them have a pissing match if you’d like. Somehow, I bet you don’t want Captain Shralev hearing about this.” Giotto stepped forward again, just a minute step, so that he was chest to chest with the protesting security officer. He was taller than any of them.
The girl’s head had snapped up when she heard the names “Enterprise” and “James Kirk”, looking hopeful. The station security glanced nervously between each other, before releasing the girl. She grabbed Giotto by the arm and held on tight, suspiciously watching the security officers, muttering angry, lilting words. “Умрите, Вы грязные ублюдки!” Then she looked up Giotto hopefully and said, “Вы можете взять меня к Enterprise? Pavel Andrievich, Я хочу видеть Pavel Andrievich Chekov!”
“Uh, yeah, we’ll get him.” Giotto tried to reassure.
But the station security wasn’t done yet, and, glancing nervously between the girl, and Giotto, on of them tried to make amends. “Look sir, maybe you don’t have to mention this to anyone? We can pay you what we’re getting paid.”
Giotto glowered, and that’s when the security officers realized how much trouble they were really in.
---
"Svetlana!" Chekov called out, and the half-naked girl ran straight into his arms.
He had called the Enterprise for help when he discovered his family had been attacked. Giotto and Hanity had brought the girl to the Enterprise, and he had rushed up to see her as soon as he heard.
Svetlana cried into Chekov’s chest, and he rocked her in his arms, whispering to her in Russian.
" Ты безопасны. Ты безопасны. Я защищу мебе. Ты безопасны."
Spock, who had been pulled into the matter late at night without complaint, tilted his head and watched the two. “This is the girl you mentioned was missing?”
Chekov barely looked up. “Yes. She is my cousin.”
“I had heard you had family on Deep Space Three. I do not mean to intrude, but does she need medical assistance?”
“Eh? Ah, just a moment. Ты повреждаете? Ты должны видеть доктора? Нет? Скажите мне немедленно, если Ты нуждаетесь в докторе.” Chekov pulled her hair back as he spoke to her, examining all of her.
The girl shook her head emphatically, and spoke rapidly back. “Я безопасен, я безопасен. Человек, он приехал, он спас меня. Вы защитили меня Pavel, он защитили меня.”
(To get the point across, I want her to say, “Я безопасен, я безопасен. A man came and saved me! You sent him, didn’t you Pasha? Did you send the man to save me?”)
“Shh, shhh,” Chekov hushed her, glancing between Spock and the girl. “She says she is not hurt, but can we still take her to a doctor?”
Spock nodded. “That would be sensible. I think we should keep her on the Enterprise for the time period, given the suspicious circumstances that the Chief Giotto has spoken of. Would you help us report what happened?”
“Yes, yes, absolutely! мы выходим, Svetlana.” And he guided her to the medbay.
---
An hour later, she had been checked out and found unharmed. Chekov watched as his cousin slept on the Enterprise’s medical bed, slouched in a chair.
“Hey there, I heard what happened,” Uhura quietly walked up behind them, respectfully intruding. She was dressed in little more than sweats, and her hair was brushed but unstyled. Spock had unintentionally woke her up when he was pulled away to take care matters, first by a comm from Jim, then by a security matter that came in as he tried to crawl back into bed. Uhura had gotten up when she found out it involved Chekov. “Is she okay?”
Chekov smiled sadly. “She is unhurt. I am very thankful.”
Uhura nodded in understanding, and bit her lip. “You’ve been worried about her for awhile, haven’t you?”
Chekov didn’t answer for a moment, staring sadly at his cousin, and pushing a strand of hair out of her sleeping eyes. “You will not say anything?” He asked without looking at Uhura.
She sat down in a chair opposite him, and very seriously answered. “I won’t if you tell me not too.”
Chekov looked up at her, considering.
“I didn’t know you were so cautious.” Uhura realized.
“Often, I have no need to be.” He acknowledged.
“It’s a good trait, considering the amount of determined recklessness that is on the Bridge.”
Chekov laughed. Uhura was happy to see him smile.
“You and the Keptin, you are funny together. I zink he likes troubling you.”
Uhura rolled her eyes. “You have no idea how right you are. Sometimes I just want to take his big inflated head, and shake it until he pops.”
He laughed again, and she smiled with him. As his laughter settled down again, he turned his attention to the young girl once again.
“I am glad she is here on Enterprise. Do you think we can bring all my family on board?”
“Her brothers and her mother? Probably. Spock and Jim would definitely make it happen if there’s reason for it. Do you think they are in danger?”
“Yes.”
Uhura nodded, taking the situation very seriously, but cautious about what questions to ask. “Alright. Should we tell security?”
“Don’t tell the space station security! I do not trust them.”
“You alerted us that your family had been attacked, but not the station’s security. Why don’t you trust them?”
“Because they are the ones that kidnapped Svetlana.”
Uhura took a breath. This was a whole different can of worms than she expected it to be. She needed to tell Jim and Spock.
“They kidnapped her?”
“Yes, zey came into my aunt’s home, and took her. Zey’ve been threatening my aunt for many weeks. My mother is very scared and worried for them. I am very scared and worried.”
Uhura almost asked, Why didn’t you say something sooner? But that would have sounded accusing. She carefully chose her words. “Then let’s get your family out of there. Do you know why they were being threatened?”
This time Chekov was reluctant again, pausing and looking around the room to make sure no one was paying attention, before secretly answering, “My aunt owes money. Much money.”
“To who?”
“I…do not know who.” Chekov looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. “But it is someone powerful. He, I mean, this person has control over many people on the space station.”
“Alright. Then let’s get your family off of there right away. Stay with her, I’ll take care of it.” Spock would probably have Giotto send several Enterprise security officers to escort the family off of the space station. And she needed to find Jim. This changed the atmosphere of their visit completely.
---
Jim still couldn’t find Bones, and he was getting worried. But at least space station security was looking into it.
Shralev’s people had wanted the vaccine right away, and to his dismay, Spock had told him that Enterprise had no left over stock. All of their vaccine had been used up. There might be one left in Bones’ medbag, but Jim did not know which of the many vials in that bag was the right one. He had almost handed the whole bag over to the space station’s medical crew, but held back because Bones was never comfortable with anyone else touching his supplies. So Jim had beamed the bag back to Enterprise and asked Chapel to find the right one.
---
Christine Chapel stumbled awake at the call. It was a page for a non-medical emergency, but it was coming from command. “H-hello?”
“Nurse Chapel.” It was Commander Spock. Chapel was suddenly embarrassed by her tangled hair and lack of bra, even though the comm was audio only. Spock certainly took no notice. “We would like you to investigate Dr. McCoy’s supplies. There is an urgent need for a copy of the Brogun vaccine, and we are attempting to find a copy in the doctor’s personal medical bag. I would ask Dr. M’Benga, but Jim insisted that it be you.”
“Dr. McCoy’s medical bag? He can’t find it himself?”
“His current whereabouts are unknown. We are not sure yet if there is cause for concern.”
That woke Christine up, more than anything else. “Dr. McCoy is missing?”
“Yes. And there has also been a break out of Brogun fasciitis on the space station.” If Spock was tired or worn out, his voice didn’t show it. “Expediency in finding a copy of the vaccine would be beneficial. Will you be able to do this task?”
“Yes, absolutely. I’ll arrive at Medical shortly.”
---
Walking back to Captain Shralev’s command room, and rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm, Jim saw a glimpse of a black figure slipping through a corridor. For just a moment, he thought it was Bones.
Jim’s head snapped to look again, but the man was already gone. It had just been a figure covered in black that he had seen out of the corner of his eyes, and it had vanished suspiciously quickly. There was no way he could have recognized it as Bones, or even as human, but something about the way the figure had moved, Jim had thought for an instance that it was Bones and his broad shoulders sneaking around the corner.
Jim jogged over to the shadowed corridor, and saw it was empty. But a few meters in, amongst the grime and filth that Jim still couldn’t believe was on a Federation station, he found a wobbly panel. The bolts on it had been loosely screwed back on, and Jim was able to pull it off and look inside. Inside was no circuitry or storage tank, but a Jeffery’s tube. And a pair of boots had been abandoned beside the panel.
---
Reaper climbed up the ladder steps in the Jeffery’s tube, finally reaching the panel for his guest room. With a sigh, not sure how to handle the situation left with Kheje Blumkrest, he pushed the panel open, and crawled through.
“Halt! Stop right there, or we’ll shoot!”
The lights flashed on, and Bones froze, one knee on the carpet, the other foot still on the ladder. There were three station security officers in the guest room, all pointing phasers at him.
“Don’t move! Crawl onto the floor and lay down.”
Reaper could push back out the Jeffery’s tube, let himself fall down 20 meters and run. But then he wouldn’t just be Reaper running away, he would be Leonard McCoy resisting arrest. He could kill them all, and then…then what? Three dead security guards in Leonard McCoy’s rooms. That would be incriminating.
“Lay down, sir!”
He didn’t know what if they were just arresting him for crawling through a Jeffery’s tube unauthorized, or for something else. Attacking could make matters worse. Mouth pressed into a flat, unhappy line, Bones chose to stay. He laid down on the carpet, and let himself be restrained.