Star Trek fic: The Game's Afoot (crew)
Jul. 9th, 2009 12:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: The Game’s Afoot
Fandom: Star Trek
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,825
Previous: Supplemental.
Characters/Pairings: Kirk, Spock, Uhura, Number One, Captain Jack Sparrow
Summary: While Kirk and Spock are gone, Number One is in command.
When the Captain and Spock disappeared, most of the crew looked around. Number One took a moment to blink, then stood up from her station. “Full reverse. Helm, back us off five AU. Chekov, take over at Science and give me a full sensor sweep.”
Chekov bounded out of his seat and, sidestepping the spot where Commander Spock had disappeared, sat down at the science station. “No transporter beam of any sort detected.”
“Keep looking. Scan the planet,” Number One ordered. “Uhura, open a channel to Starfleet Command and prepare a burst transmission of our sensor logs. Ask for their recommendation and possible reinforcement.”
Sulu turned at his station. “We’re writing a report?”
“An unknown alien intelligence just abducted the captain and science officer of a ship of the line. What would you have me do, slap it around until it gives them up?”
Uhura looked up from the frequencies she’d been monitoring. “Perhaps the prisoner has some information we can use.”
”Are you familiar with second-millennium pirates, Ms. Uhura?”
“I’m a quick learner.”
“Well,” Number One said, looking at the viewscreen that had so recently been scribbled on, “it’s obvious the contact knows our language, making your utility here limited. Get what you can out of him, but don’t even bend the regulations concerning prisoner interrogation.”
Uhura clenched her fist, pissed that Number One even thought she needed to be reminded of inalienable rights, but then, if the other woman had any idea of how worried and angry Uhura was, she was right to be cautious. Uhura took a deep breath and walked to the turbolift.
***
“You look very familiar. Have we met?”
Uhura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What was it about the Enterprise that attracted lechs of every species? The Captain, Gaila, even Spock could be downright kinky sometimes.
“No, Mr. Sparrow, you’re a pirate, I’m a communications officer aboard a starship. We haven’t met.”
Sparrow nodded decisively. “Alright, you have trustworthy eyes, I believe you.” He tapped the forcefield a few times. “Whuzzis? Some kind of invisible wood?”
“It’s a forcefield, Mr. Sparrow. To keep you in the brig.”
”Oh. I don’t like it.” He tapped it some more. “Right unnatural, that.” He tapped it with both hands. “I think I can kinda play a song on it!”
“Stop that!”
Jack shot his hands behind his back. “Sorry. Are you sure we’ve never met?”
“Oh, I’d remember you.” Uhura stepped right up next to the forcefield. “The captain and Spock are gone. The Squire abducted them.”
“Cheeky bastard, him. I told ya you didn’t want to meet him. We could be settling back with some frothing mugs of grog right now in Barcelona. You do like grog, don’t you?”
“I love grog. Who is the Squire and what has he done with my friends?”
“Well…” Sparrow scratched his head. “If he’s anything like I remember him, he’s a right bloody-minded chap with the moral turpitude of a fish’s gutsacks, savvy? He brought me up because he wanted to hunt some pirates, only I was too smart for him. Through a series of enterprises too thrilling and crafty to be related to a lady of your obvious standing, I faked me ship’s blowing-up and set out to ply my livings on the spacelanes.”
“But…” Uhura didn’t know where to start. “How can you breathe in space?”
“Love,” Jack slinked closer, only to blitz unexpectedly into the forcefield and back off. He drew himself back up to pirating height with great dignity. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow.”
“Alright then.” Uhura turned to the security officer on duty. “Could you bring me a cup of coffee?” She glanced at Jack. “You want anything?”
“Do you have rum?”
“We do.”
“Good. I’ll have that and a Caesar salad, easy on the croutons, topped with shrimp, and make the eggs all coddled. But don’t forget the rum.”
Uhura sat down. “So the Squire created you?”
“Yes.”
“So he could hunt you for sport?”
“It’s a hard-knock life, love. You really don’t remember me at all?”
“For the last time, no.”
“So, if I had, say, a boat… a boat of yours, one might say… and I wished to return it to you, being a gentleman of honor and good taste in fashion, you would say ‘I never loaned you no boat,’ or something along this lines, but more womanish?”
Uhura stared at him. “Thank you for your time.”
“Not that you did loan me a boat, obviously!” Jack called after her.
***
“Any word from Starfleet?” Uhura asked as she strode back onto the bridge.
“No. Any news from Captain Sparrow?”
“He owes me a boat.”
“Intriguing. Send another report to Starfleet.” Number One walked in front of the viewscreen again, a pacing that let her oversee the various bridge stations.
“Sir, do you have any plans to rescue the captain?” Uhura insisted.
“At present, none.”
“So you’re not even going to try?”
“It would be a foolish endeavor, and I would only countenance it if ordered to by Starfleet.”
”They could be dying…”
“Let me make something clear right now.” Number One sat down in the captain’s chair. “My foremost priority is the safety of this crew, including the Captain. But until his return, I am the sole authority aboard this vessel.”
She was interrupted by a slow, sarcastic clap. When she turned around to see who it was, Kirk smiled at her.
Number One’s eyes narrowed. “You planned that, didn’t you?”
“No, just lucky that way.” Kirk made a little shooing gesture, getting her out of the chair, then sat back down. Spock did the same at the science station, picking over the readings taken since he’d been gone. “Uhura, is that report ready?”
“You’re checking in with Starfleet Command?” Number One exclaimed, as surprised as she ever was.
“Those were good calls you made. Wouldn’t have done it any different.”
“Could you not say that ever again, Captain? It makes me doubt my place in the universe.”
***
While Kirk recorded his report to Starfleet, coincidentally in earshot of the bridge crew, Uhura pressed two fingers to the back of Spock’s hand. It was a gesture of Vulcan intimacy, letting the race of touch telepaths feel each others’ thoughts. With Uhura, the share could only be one-way, letting him feel her relief at his safe return, but she didn’t need to be a telepath to know he was uneasy.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“I am…” he paused, “fine. The captain and I are in circumstances which are emotionally trying, but it will not affect the performance of our duties.”
“Which means you’re worried it might.”
“No. I meant I am unsure to where my duty lies. Vulcan or Starfleet.” He inclined his head slightly toward her. “It is unfair to burden you with this. I will consider it further at a later date.”
“And tell me what you come up with?”
Spock touched two fingers to the back of her hand. “As always.”
Kirk’s voice rose above the subtle exchange. “Trelane said the game was on, then sent us back here. How long were we gone?”
“Twenty minutes, twenty-six seconds,” Number One said.
“I counted an hour spent off the Enterprise,” Spock said.
“Great, more time travel. Spock, why don’t you check in with your man on New Vulcan?”
***
The elder Spock was unavailable. Spock retired to his quarters to meditate. Hope was a very potent emotion. He could not allow it to influence his decision-making. There was no proof Trelane’s claims were accurate.
His door chime rang. “Enter.”
Jim Kirk swaggered in, a black tee replacing the top half of his uniform. A bottle dangled from his hand. “I thought we should talk.”
“Does conversing require the consumption of alcoholic beverages?”
“Oh yeah.” Jim took a geometric crystal out of his pocket, cracked it into two shotglasses, and poured for them.
“Jim, I must point out the foolhardiness of imbibing while the ship is at risk.
“Synthehol, Spock. You’ll make a teetotaler out of me yet.”
Spock took his glass, staring at the amber liquid. “On Vulcan, it was considered illogical to willfully impair oneself.” He drank. Didn’t cough.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jim said. “Doesn’t matter if they’re real or not. This is just another bribe, same as anything Mudd could offer. We’re Starfleet officers. We can’t allow ourselves to be compromised.”
“We should consider the possibility.”
“No, we shouldn’t!”
“Allow me to rephrase. We are considering the possibility. We should merely be honest about it.” Spock set his glass down. “Refill?”
Jim poured. “I can’t compare my loss to yours. I never knew my—father, you lost your home…”
“On the contrary. I had a chance to know my mother. You did not. Even being able to say goodbye… Jim, if the Squire intends to compel our cooperation, we can at least attempt to make the best of a bad situation.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is a hard choice. But when the time comes, I believe approaching the matter with logic will simplify it immensely.”
“I think I can do that.” Jim nursed his next drink, swishing it and letting the light refract through the glass and into his eyes. “My mom had this hologram of him. I used to call it dad. My stepfather threw it out, so I bet his paycheck on the Clippers.” He drank, stared into the empty glass. “You know what I thought when they pinned that medal on me, gave me this ship? ‘I bet he’s proud’… He looked at me. He called my name. If I can’t be neutral about this, you don’t let me do anything stupid, alright?”
“I will apply myself fully, but I do not see how I will meet with more success than I have in the past.”
“Was that a joke?”
“Most assuredly not.”
Jim finished off a long pull from the bottle. “God, this stuff is piss. Remind me to get you some real beer next time we’re on shore leave.”
“I will attempt to contain my anticipation.”
“You’re a mean drunk, you know that?”
The intercom cut in. “Captain to the bridge, we’ve received a distress signal. It’s from the Klingons, sir.”
Jim sobered instantly. “C’mon, Spock, they’re playing our song.”
***
Kirk sat in the command chair and rubbed his chin, hunching forward as if he couldn’t get comfortable. Finally, Sulu reported that they were coming into range.
“Jim,” Spock said, standing by the captain’s chair. “Have you considered the possibility that Trelane is involved in this?”
“I haven’t been able to consider anything else.”
They dropped out of warp.
The outpost was a shipyard. Around an elephant graveyard of ships under construction was an elaborately spinning field of components, from wings to disruptors, waiting to be installed.
And firing on it was a wide-bodied starship, squat and round, the registration numbers NCC-1701-D emblazoned on its saucer section. The USS Enterprise.
Fandom: Star Trek
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,825
Previous: Supplemental.
Characters/Pairings: Kirk, Spock, Uhura, Number One, Captain Jack Sparrow
Summary: While Kirk and Spock are gone, Number One is in command.
When the Captain and Spock disappeared, most of the crew looked around. Number One took a moment to blink, then stood up from her station. “Full reverse. Helm, back us off five AU. Chekov, take over at Science and give me a full sensor sweep.”
Chekov bounded out of his seat and, sidestepping the spot where Commander Spock had disappeared, sat down at the science station. “No transporter beam of any sort detected.”
“Keep looking. Scan the planet,” Number One ordered. “Uhura, open a channel to Starfleet Command and prepare a burst transmission of our sensor logs. Ask for their recommendation and possible reinforcement.”
Sulu turned at his station. “We’re writing a report?”
“An unknown alien intelligence just abducted the captain and science officer of a ship of the line. What would you have me do, slap it around until it gives them up?”
Uhura looked up from the frequencies she’d been monitoring. “Perhaps the prisoner has some information we can use.”
”Are you familiar with second-millennium pirates, Ms. Uhura?”
“I’m a quick learner.”
“Well,” Number One said, looking at the viewscreen that had so recently been scribbled on, “it’s obvious the contact knows our language, making your utility here limited. Get what you can out of him, but don’t even bend the regulations concerning prisoner interrogation.”
Uhura clenched her fist, pissed that Number One even thought she needed to be reminded of inalienable rights, but then, if the other woman had any idea of how worried and angry Uhura was, she was right to be cautious. Uhura took a deep breath and walked to the turbolift.
***
“You look very familiar. Have we met?”
Uhura resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What was it about the Enterprise that attracted lechs of every species? The Captain, Gaila, even Spock could be downright kinky sometimes.
“No, Mr. Sparrow, you’re a pirate, I’m a communications officer aboard a starship. We haven’t met.”
Sparrow nodded decisively. “Alright, you have trustworthy eyes, I believe you.” He tapped the forcefield a few times. “Whuzzis? Some kind of invisible wood?”
“It’s a forcefield, Mr. Sparrow. To keep you in the brig.”
”Oh. I don’t like it.” He tapped it some more. “Right unnatural, that.” He tapped it with both hands. “I think I can kinda play a song on it!”
“Stop that!”
Jack shot his hands behind his back. “Sorry. Are you sure we’ve never met?”
“Oh, I’d remember you.” Uhura stepped right up next to the forcefield. “The captain and Spock are gone. The Squire abducted them.”
“Cheeky bastard, him. I told ya you didn’t want to meet him. We could be settling back with some frothing mugs of grog right now in Barcelona. You do like grog, don’t you?”
“I love grog. Who is the Squire and what has he done with my friends?”
“Well…” Sparrow scratched his head. “If he’s anything like I remember him, he’s a right bloody-minded chap with the moral turpitude of a fish’s gutsacks, savvy? He brought me up because he wanted to hunt some pirates, only I was too smart for him. Through a series of enterprises too thrilling and crafty to be related to a lady of your obvious standing, I faked me ship’s blowing-up and set out to ply my livings on the spacelanes.”
“But…” Uhura didn’t know where to start. “How can you breathe in space?”
“Love,” Jack slinked closer, only to blitz unexpectedly into the forcefield and back off. He drew himself back up to pirating height with great dignity. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow.”
“Alright then.” Uhura turned to the security officer on duty. “Could you bring me a cup of coffee?” She glanced at Jack. “You want anything?”
“Do you have rum?”
“We do.”
“Good. I’ll have that and a Caesar salad, easy on the croutons, topped with shrimp, and make the eggs all coddled. But don’t forget the rum.”
Uhura sat down. “So the Squire created you?”
“Yes.”
“So he could hunt you for sport?”
“It’s a hard-knock life, love. You really don’t remember me at all?”
“For the last time, no.”
“So, if I had, say, a boat… a boat of yours, one might say… and I wished to return it to you, being a gentleman of honor and good taste in fashion, you would say ‘I never loaned you no boat,’ or something along this lines, but more womanish?”
Uhura stared at him. “Thank you for your time.”
“Not that you did loan me a boat, obviously!” Jack called after her.
***
“Any word from Starfleet?” Uhura asked as she strode back onto the bridge.
“No. Any news from Captain Sparrow?”
“He owes me a boat.”
“Intriguing. Send another report to Starfleet.” Number One walked in front of the viewscreen again, a pacing that let her oversee the various bridge stations.
“Sir, do you have any plans to rescue the captain?” Uhura insisted.
“At present, none.”
“So you’re not even going to try?”
“It would be a foolish endeavor, and I would only countenance it if ordered to by Starfleet.”
”They could be dying…”
“Let me make something clear right now.” Number One sat down in the captain’s chair. “My foremost priority is the safety of this crew, including the Captain. But until his return, I am the sole authority aboard this vessel.”
She was interrupted by a slow, sarcastic clap. When she turned around to see who it was, Kirk smiled at her.
Number One’s eyes narrowed. “You planned that, didn’t you?”
“No, just lucky that way.” Kirk made a little shooing gesture, getting her out of the chair, then sat back down. Spock did the same at the science station, picking over the readings taken since he’d been gone. “Uhura, is that report ready?”
“You’re checking in with Starfleet Command?” Number One exclaimed, as surprised as she ever was.
“Those were good calls you made. Wouldn’t have done it any different.”
“Could you not say that ever again, Captain? It makes me doubt my place in the universe.”
***
While Kirk recorded his report to Starfleet, coincidentally in earshot of the bridge crew, Uhura pressed two fingers to the back of Spock’s hand. It was a gesture of Vulcan intimacy, letting the race of touch telepaths feel each others’ thoughts. With Uhura, the share could only be one-way, letting him feel her relief at his safe return, but she didn’t need to be a telepath to know he was uneasy.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“I am…” he paused, “fine. The captain and I are in circumstances which are emotionally trying, but it will not affect the performance of our duties.”
“Which means you’re worried it might.”
“No. I meant I am unsure to where my duty lies. Vulcan or Starfleet.” He inclined his head slightly toward her. “It is unfair to burden you with this. I will consider it further at a later date.”
“And tell me what you come up with?”
Spock touched two fingers to the back of her hand. “As always.”
Kirk’s voice rose above the subtle exchange. “Trelane said the game was on, then sent us back here. How long were we gone?”
“Twenty minutes, twenty-six seconds,” Number One said.
“I counted an hour spent off the Enterprise,” Spock said.
“Great, more time travel. Spock, why don’t you check in with your man on New Vulcan?”
***
The elder Spock was unavailable. Spock retired to his quarters to meditate. Hope was a very potent emotion. He could not allow it to influence his decision-making. There was no proof Trelane’s claims were accurate.
His door chime rang. “Enter.”
Jim Kirk swaggered in, a black tee replacing the top half of his uniform. A bottle dangled from his hand. “I thought we should talk.”
“Does conversing require the consumption of alcoholic beverages?”
“Oh yeah.” Jim took a geometric crystal out of his pocket, cracked it into two shotglasses, and poured for them.
“Jim, I must point out the foolhardiness of imbibing while the ship is at risk.
“Synthehol, Spock. You’ll make a teetotaler out of me yet.”
Spock took his glass, staring at the amber liquid. “On Vulcan, it was considered illogical to willfully impair oneself.” He drank. Didn’t cough.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jim said. “Doesn’t matter if they’re real or not. This is just another bribe, same as anything Mudd could offer. We’re Starfleet officers. We can’t allow ourselves to be compromised.”
“We should consider the possibility.”
“No, we shouldn’t!”
“Allow me to rephrase. We are considering the possibility. We should merely be honest about it.” Spock set his glass down. “Refill?”
Jim poured. “I can’t compare my loss to yours. I never knew my—father, you lost your home…”
“On the contrary. I had a chance to know my mother. You did not. Even being able to say goodbye… Jim, if the Squire intends to compel our cooperation, we can at least attempt to make the best of a bad situation.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is a hard choice. But when the time comes, I believe approaching the matter with logic will simplify it immensely.”
“I think I can do that.” Jim nursed his next drink, swishing it and letting the light refract through the glass and into his eyes. “My mom had this hologram of him. I used to call it dad. My stepfather threw it out, so I bet his paycheck on the Clippers.” He drank, stared into the empty glass. “You know what I thought when they pinned that medal on me, gave me this ship? ‘I bet he’s proud’… He looked at me. He called my name. If I can’t be neutral about this, you don’t let me do anything stupid, alright?”
“I will apply myself fully, but I do not see how I will meet with more success than I have in the past.”
“Was that a joke?”
“Most assuredly not.”
Jim finished off a long pull from the bottle. “God, this stuff is piss. Remind me to get you some real beer next time we’re on shore leave.”
“I will attempt to contain my anticipation.”
“You’re a mean drunk, you know that?”
The intercom cut in. “Captain to the bridge, we’ve received a distress signal. It’s from the Klingons, sir.”
Jim sobered instantly. “C’mon, Spock, they’re playing our song.”
***
Kirk sat in the command chair and rubbed his chin, hunching forward as if he couldn’t get comfortable. Finally, Sulu reported that they were coming into range.
“Jim,” Spock said, standing by the captain’s chair. “Have you considered the possibility that Trelane is involved in this?”
“I haven’t been able to consider anything else.”
They dropped out of warp.
The outpost was a shipyard. Around an elephant graveyard of ships under construction was an elaborately spinning field of components, from wings to disruptors, waiting to be installed.
And firing on it was a wide-bodied starship, squat and round, the registration numbers NCC-1701-D emblazoned on its saucer section. The USS Enterprise.
