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20 September 2009 @ 07:45 pm
fic: Captivity (2/?)  
Title: Captivity (2/?)
Word Count: ~8600
Fandom: Star Trek
Characters/Pairings: ensemble; eventual Kirk/Spock
Summary: Prompted by st_xi_kink, here: AU. Twenty-seven years ago, Earth initiated war with Vulcan. Twenty-five years ago, the Vulcans won. Twenty-four years ago, humans became their slaves. Three years ago, Jim Kirk met Leonard McCoy. Today, they - among others - are wanted for their roles in the resistance.
Notes/Warnings: I wouldn't say there's anything particularly graphic in this one. Oh, and for the record - since I know WIP's are fun, and all - I try to update on schedule. I'd like to maintain weekly updates, but if real life keeps kicking my ass like this, they might be bi-weekly for a while. Sigh. Bear with me?

One | Two | Three | Four


“Are you sure?” Sulu asks, breaking the silence that had fallen down upon the group for a while.

Kirk’s eyes flick up towards Sulu, leaving the shared gaze he was having with McCoy on his bandaged arm, where the red had started seeping through and McCoy could do no more than continue applying pressure. He hesitates for a moment before replying, “Am I sure about what?”

“The kid’s age. Or the fact that he even has a kid,” Sulu says. “Do you have any evidence? Did you see anything? Because if this is only a hunch, then we shouldn’t be stressing out over it until we have solid proof. We can take care of the security, we have the necessary materials to carry everything out, still, so if this is our only big obstacle—“

“Then we need to address it immediately so we can get this done all the sooner,” Kirk snaps, interrupting. “Especially if everything else is working out okay. We need to be ready for all possibilities. If he doesn’t have a kid, then that’s great. I’m all for killing one less person. But if he does, then we need to be prepared. I’d rather have all angles covered than sit back and be surprised.” He jerks his arm from McCoy’s grasp a little, attempting to gesture, and has it forcefully pulled back down.

Everyone becomes quiet again, thinking over what they do know, or what they could do; how their particular talents and ability could become useful. It’s Uhura who finally asks for clarification. “But it’s good to start with the facts, isn’t it?” she speaks up. “What do you know for sure? That way we can come up with better ideas.” Her tone is inquisitive but calm, cool, and matter-of-fact.

Kirk looks over at her specifically before turning to address everyone – aside from McCoy, as he is on Kirk’s other side – again. “I couldn’t tell you about the size of the kid. Just that I was close enough to make out Sarek’s form – he’s the only one there who wears that fucking dignified robe.” He spits the article out, voice unconsciously beginning to border on rageful. “His posture was… well, straight, I guess, and perfect, because it would be illogical to have it any other way. But at the same time I could tell that it was more relaxed, more at ease, and that he was in a more comfortable or, I guess if you could call it, friendly way. I did spend part of my childhood in a Vulcan household. I know enough to recognize that sort of comfortable stance, as if in a relaxed conversation, as compared to the shit I always got. It just looked like it to me. It looked like what I’ve seen and lived with in the past.

“I just saw it and everything came rushing back to me… And before I had the chance to attempt to go in further, the earthquake happened and I had to try to get back here immediately without being spotted. But I might have seen a glimpse of a younger Vulcan. I’m not sure. But it’s a very real possibility, and it needs to be addressed.”

“How, though?” McCoy speaks up, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of Kirk’s arm. “Do you seriously think that we can simply put everything on hold just for the sake of one little brat that would probably just grow up to be just like his fucking daddy?” He unconsciously presses harder, and Kirk might have involuntarily flinched if he hadn’t been prepared for it.

Kirk is about to reply when Sulu coughs and initially hesitantly says, “Um, until then, I really… We really… We really should be getting back. I mean, the earthquake… and we weren’t there…” He breaks off to meet Chekov’s eyes, and Chekov is nodding again, looking across the group of faces uncertainly, before turning back to Sulu. “Yeah. I’m guessing you can sort it all out just fine without us. And we really haven’t been gone for so long before, and it’s not good for us, and we… really do need to be getting back.”

Sulu’s throat bobs uncertainly and Chekov looks like he wants to bury himself in him, but is resisting and maintaining a respectable enough distance, even if he is clinging just a little. Sulu hardly looks like he minds, though, and is just letting him – which isn’t a surprise for anyone, as Sulu does very frequently take on Chekov’s voice for him and will communicate their shared opinions.

McCoy opens his mouth to say something, but both Scotty and Kirk simultaneously turn to glare at him, and Kirk evenly says, “It’s okay, guys. If that’s what you think is best then it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt to have some sort of inside connection, however meager it may be.” He turns to look back at the both of them and does his best attempt at a lighthearted, kind smile. “Just don’t stay out too long. I want to see you guys again quickly, okay? Make sure that you guys are still okay. Stay safe.”

Chekov gives Kirk a small, grateful smile and leaps up immediately, Sulu not far behind him, as they maneuver around the group clustered in the centre and progress deeper into the caverns, heading for one of the more seldom used entrances and exits that happens to lead to a very quiet part of the city’s structures. It’s a dangerous pathway, but also the quickest, which is enough to justify its existence, leading back into a small alleyway most skip over and few but the smallest framed and skinniest can get through. Fortunately, if there’s one perk to living as a species deemed lesser and slave-worthy, it’s that they may all be somewhat fit, but they’re still kind of malnourished and are just small enough to get through. Chekov does have the easier time, but Sulu can make it with a bit more effort on his part.

They trek along, following complex underground pathways that would be so easy to get lost in if they didn’t spend so much time here, as dangerous as it may be for them to come here at all. They’re constantly taking a huge risk, attempting to be part of a resistance, pushing the tiny freedoms they’ve been granted due to their closeness and understandable youth to a dangerous extent, both not even acknowledging the inevitable that one day, this life style will come to an end, and despite the outcome, they’ll be permanently trapped.

When they’re out of earshot McCoy looks up from his gaze on Kirk’s arm to stare directly at him, glaring. “You really shouldn’t be encouraging that kind of behaviour,” he says, voice rough and suppressed rage evident beneath it.

Kirk meets the gaze head-on. “It’s their choice, Bones. In the mean time, it gives us a constant inside. We can have some sort of idea of what’s going on within the upper levels of society.”

“Yeah. Until one day one of them fucks up, and their masters leave them completely incapacitated. Or – better yet – they continue partaking in suspicious behaviour, like, oh, I don’t know, this, and their masters get suspicious and initiate mind melds and then suddenly, we’re completely found out and then that’s the end. Great fucking resistance plan, Jim. Why don’t we just go out into the middle of the city and announce our names and occupations right then and there? I can be gunned down immediately – not a problem,” McCoy snaps, tightening his grip on Kirk’s arm before letting it slacken and then releasing it. “I think your bleeding’s stopped,” he mutters.

Kirk briefly tests his arm by raising it slowly, and then lowering it down to his side, folding it across his lap. “That won’t happen – Sulu and Chekov are good. They won’t let it happen. If it comes to that, then that’s when they know they’ll have to get out of there, and they’ll do just that. Call it intuition. I trust them.”

“Besides,” Scotty cuts in, “this is the only life they’ve ever known. Slavery and the slums and everything were all pretty well established by the time they were born. It can’t be easy on them. They probably just don’t know how else to live… It’s not their fault. It already takes a great deal of courage for them to be able to come out here and do this much.”

“Don’t talk to me about courage,” McCoy growls. “If this is the only life they’ve ever known and yet they’re still serious about being a part of this – which, by now, it’s pretty evident that they are – then they need to get over any twisted sort of attachment to their Vulcans and stay away, permanently. Immediately.” He pauses for a moment in thought. “And it’s not like you’re any fucking better.”

-


They’re working their way through, quickly, and praying that the earthquake didn’t cause any parts of this pathway to collapse. The structuring here is weaker than any other part of their underground maze that constitutes as a hideout, mostly for safety precautions – anybody who doesn’t know what they’re doing, such as an intruder, is likely to trigger something, in which case dirt will come crashing down over him or her, and he or she will be suffocated.

Both Sulu and Chekov are really, really hoping that there won’t be any more tremors, either, because this is exactly the wrong place to be if that were to happen, and with the first set, it’s more than likely that there will be more to follow. So they navigate their way through quickly, just hoping that everything will turn out alright, at least this far, because that would be incredibly helpful.

“Um, Hikaru?” Chekov whispers as they skirt along an edge, avoiding a clump of dirt and the smallest hints of a cave-in that hadn’t been there before, but still left a window of passage. “Do you think everything will still be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Sulu whispers back, squeezing out of the narrow walkway and taking a moment to get his breath back after having his frame sucked in for so long, waiting for Chekov to emerge beside him, still ready to keep on going. “I hope so. I mean, we have a good excuse for being out so long, right?”

“But we are not supposed to go that far, and if our area was not badly affected, then we do not have any reasons…”

Sulu stands up straight, taking his hands off of his knees and stretching his back out a little as he brings his arms up over his head. He’s about ready to keep moving on, but first he gently places an arm around Chekov’s shoulders and hugs his body to his own before releasing and turning to head up an upwards slope. “Our area will have been affected. If we do get into shit, then remember, it’s not our faults. It’s not yours. It never is.”

“But it is,” Chekov says, his voice still quiet as he follows, working to scale the steep incline. “We are the ones who disobeyed, and came out here, when we really should not have come… And we know to not come, but we did it anyway. It is our fault. We should not have been out this far, and then the ground above and around us was shaking, and we should have been at home for that, in our own quarters, where we could not get into trouble. Hikaru, it is our fault. We know better.”

Sulu would have frozen at this and whirled around to grip his friend by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but such an action would have resulted in the tumbling down of the passage, so he doesn’t. Instead he continues progressing, forwards, onwards, upwards, reaching the point where if he tilts his head just right, he can see a star or two twinkling back out at him. Because of his proximity to the surface, his voice drops even lower, but still Chekov is able to catch the hiss. “No, it’s not. We shouldn’t have to know better. Remember that they ripped you from your home, from your mom, and forced you into this life. It’s not right. It’s not your fault. This shouldn’t even be in the first place – it is not your fault. It is not my fault. It is their faults. Don’t forget that.

With that he uses his upper body strength to haul himself out of the small, dirty hole in the corner of the alley, and crouches beside it in the shadows, waiting to help Chekov up. By being up and outside, the risks held with talking suddenly intensify, and so, Chekov doesn’t attempt to reply, and Sulu already felt he was pushing it with his lecture. But when Chekov’s hands shoot up and grasp the edge, and Sulu takes them in his own to help pull him up, he sees the look on the young Russian’s face, and he can see the understanding in his eyes, uncertain but well on their way to accepting. And that’ll have to do for now.

The two make their way off together, Chekov leading this time, as he’s more familiar when it comes to being above ground. Their feet fall softly and they stick together; it’s partially advantageous that they ended up living right next to each other. It gave them slightly greater amounts of freedom when the Vulcans living there recognized their bond and allowed them to keep in contact. The downside is just when that’ll come back to bite them, because they’ll take it too freely, and then they’ll be restricted and cut off forever – and that would hurt too much, to have had the taste for so many years, knowing that there will be more years without a hope of it returning.

-


“Look,” Kirk says, “we need to take advantage of the situation. Even if Scotty and I are hurt, and we should rest for a while,” and at this he nods at McCoy, who rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest, leaning back against one of the solid dirt walls, “we can’t let this slip. There hasn’t been an earthquake here as long as I’ve been alive and we’ve been lucky. They got hit and we didn’t. What are the chances of it happening again? Surely they’re a little disoriented right now – they probably weren’t expecting it; I mean, we weren’t, and we’re the natives – and that makes this the perfect time to strike.”

“Aye, while it’s still night and they’re overanalyzing and trying to piece it all together, and figure out what it is, exactly, that can be done. They’re vulnerable right now, so the sooner we can take care of them, the better our chances of success.” Scotty pauses, then grins, patting the ground under him. “It’ll give us a good shot at building off of the structural damage the good ol’ Earth already supplied for us.”

“She’s on our side, alright,” Kirk returns the grin.

Uhura looks up from Scotty’s ankle, which she had been watching with concern. “Hey,” she says, “while we’re in the mood for a rush job, I could always run out there and see if I can find where the generators for Sarek’s defences are being kept. I might not be able to do anything about it immediately, but at least we’d know where they are. Then we could take him down, as well. It’s possible that this could be our trigger for a massive victory in one fell swoop, isn’t it? We just keep on building off of this earthquake as quickly as we can, and we could watch them crumble around us. That way we’ll have taken back a small corner of the world for ourselves – and we could start heading back towards the mountains and the old California-Nevada border. That’s one of the highest places of command. If we could get there…”

“…Then we’d really have a shot at a worldwide liberation,” McCoy finishes, and actually grins at it. “I’m liking the sound of this.”

“So am I,” Kirk nods, and though serious, it’s hard to not be caught up in the energy the four are now sharing. “Still. We can’t get too far ahead of ourselves. We just need to keep our heads level, keep working as well as we have been, and we’ll talk about Nevada the second Sarek and the rest of the command and councilmen here have been dispatched. Right now we need to focus on that and that alone. And we can do this. We can work quickly… It’ll get done.” He stops to think, but the enthusiasm reverberating about the cavern’s circular walls is a touch impairing; he’d venture a guess to say that it was intoxicating if he’d ever known the feeling, but he can remember his own highs through unconventional and self-destructive means in the past. “This is great. Go ahead, Uhura.”

“Wait,” McCoy says as Uhura rises to leave. “Are you sure you aren’t injured? No pain anywhere? You aren’t too tired? Because we can’t have you out there if there’s a possibility that—“

Uhura smiles softly at McCoy. “Don’t worry,” she says, “I’m perfectly fit. I wasn’t hurt in the earthquake. I can handle this.” And with that, she spins on her heel and heads out, ascending while McCoy watches her movements until she’s out of sight.

Scotty, too, stares after her retreating figure. “Aye, I’ll bet she can,” he says after she’s departed. “She’s always been a very reliable lass – and she knows her limits. She’ll find it in no time, I bet.”

Uhura, meanwhile, emerges into the open, fresh air. There’s a slight wind and the breeze sends the smell of salty water straight to her nose. She breathes it in, deep, reveling in the clear freshness of the natural, free night air, and feels it along her body – thankfully, here, it’s warm enough that she can get away with the shorter sleeves she’s required, and after a lifetime of living in such a manner, is used to it that on the rare occasion when it does get that cold, all she needs to do is return to the hideout and stay underground for a while, where small fires can be well enough okay.

But for now, it’s summer, bordering on autumn, and she’s content as she is. Uhura doesn’t stand around for long – she takes in the night, notes the short grass blowing in the wind, feels her long, loose ponytail moving in the same direction, observes the rolling hills, the bright stars littering the black canvas up above, and then she’s off. Here is where she’ll run, because here is where she’s unlikely to meet any threat, and if she does, she knows these hills well enough that she’s confident in her ability to escape. She sweeps around, working her way towards the tallest hills of San Francisco in a long, arcing pattern.

The ground underneath her poorly-clad feet turns rough as she exits the area, but she’s strong enough to deal with it at this point; to hardly even acknowledge it, because it just feels so natural to her. It’s the kind of environment she grew up in. Rocks and dust and stone and running, hiding, stealing.

Coming up to civilization itself is a touch more daunting, in which case the running stops and the skulking and calm moving forward comes about. It may be night, but this night most aren’t asleep as they normally are – rather, because of certain disastrous events in nature, many are awake and wary.

It’s a good thing that Uhura really is just that good.

-


It stings.

It’s not incapacitating, but it stings, and Chekov has never been hit quite like that before. Physical violence has never entered the equation – it’s always been about how he was stripped away from the land he was born in, was a toddler in. Then he was stripped away from his friend – then his mother – then his friend again until he finally caught a break.

The break would appear to be breaking now, as well, and he couldn’t even cry out against the hits or the threats because he’s been taught for so long to keep quiet that it’s become his nature. In addition to everything else he’s had his voice taken from him as well, to the point where the only person he finds himself able to talk to is Sulu. Even around everyone else – he knows that they’re friendly, and that they like him, and that they would like to hear more from him, but he just… can’t. So it’s a good thing that throughout his childhood he has had that close interaction with Sulu, to the point that Sulu can read him just as well as he can read himself.

So he took it, because he didn’t know what else it was he could do, or what he was supposed to do, and accepted the sentence to confinement within his quarters in the upper levels of the house, where he would be unlikely to escape, while his masters went back out and sorted to the relief aid, and one remained behind to look after the belongings and ensure that their no-longer trustworthy slave would not try to run.

Because returning with his friend in wake of what was so devastating ruined all possibilities of going out with him again, at the very least until everything was once again sorted out. Which could take a while. And until then, his masters would go out to get supplies. He would not be allowed outside. And if he disobeyed an order from the first go, there would be consequences.

There always had been, of course, but for the most part the Vulcans he lived with had been fairly understanding, and had concluded that it would be illogical to restrict one at such a rebellious age (after learning more about humans and their different behaviours at different ages, it was deduced that repressing one at a very rebellious time in his or her life span would only lead to severe consequences – the most famous rumour was that the second son of George Kirk, the one who shared his birthday with his father’s deathday, had been treated in such a manner and was now, at the least, partially responsible for some of the bombings that had been inflicting them over the past few years). But sometimes the situation just called for sheer force.

Not that Chekov would have dreamed of being free-spirited now, and especially not after having been smacked around, experiencing barely-restrained Vulcan force on his body. The important thing was that he could still think, still walk, still use his arms and his hands with no pain. The bruises mottling his pale skin, though. The imprints on it. The stinging that receded to a constant, dull ache, but was somehow still able to retain its sting at the same time.

Now? Now he wouldn’t dare do anything he wasn’t told. He would stay in his quarters. His small, tiny quarters, with not much more than a simple mattress lying on the ground comprised of incredibly tiny but still somewhat reasonable dimensions for a human of his size.

Chekov’s plans were to just continue sitting there, on the hard mattress, and nothing else. He fretted to learn of what had happened to Sulu – had his masters been more accepting? On par? Worse? – and allowed worry to consume him instead, attempting to take his mind off of the pain, but… that was a difficult thing to do.

He’d been struck. He still couldn’t believe it. Maybe when he’d have time to process it…

-


The optimism from the night before didn’t take too long to fade away. With Uhura’s departure, Kirk, McCoy, and Scotty had returned to discussing the issues at hand. The most pressing item was still what to do if it turned out that Sarek had a young child, but there were other issues to consider: What was the extent of the damage to their hideouts? Were the weapons still stable? Were their escape routes blocked? What would they do next if Uhura was unable to locate the generator and controls to the shields Sarek’s house possessed? What if Sulu and Chekov were unable to return?

Scotty had wanted to go check on the weapons immediately, and had gotten into a shouting match with McCoy, who insisted that he was, by no means, permitted to rise and walk around or do any real physical activity. It was escalating until Kirk finally asserted himself over the two of them, snapping that this was getting them nowhere and they were giving him a headache, and for now, just listen to Bones, okay? Which had only prompted more indignant sputtering from Scotty over McCoy’s attitude towards his lifestyle, and should he have to listen to that as well, and McCoy had started to retaliate when Kirk had thrown his hands up into the air in frustration and announced that he was going to do an inspection of their main base, at least, and they were free to continue as long as they wanted without him there.

The sunrise didn’t bring any hope with it, either. Rather it only brought increased worry – Uhura was not yet back. And it was possible that she’d been caught, with as many Vulcans as there actually were roaming the night and then morning, not sleeping in the wake of destruction.

“Maybe we didn’t think this all the way through,” McCoy says, eyes trained on one of the entrances, ears ready to take in the sound of footsteps approaching, no matter what the degree of softness. There’s nothing to see or hear, though. “Maybe we got too caught up. We didn’t think this through properly. We should be doing that rather than just rushing out.”

“But it’s necessary to rush out, here,” Scotty says from his spot on the floor, where he’s been restricted throughout the night. “This is only a small window of opportunity. We need to take advantage of it.”

“We need to plan. That’s how we’ve been able to carry this out so well for so many years, without a single one of us getting caught. By meticulous planning and strategic attacks – not by running out at the first sight of something exciting and then getting screwed shortly after because of it. They could find us so easily if they got a hold of her…”

Scotty scoffs at the notion, dismisses it by waving his hand in the air. “They didn’t get a hold of her. Nyota has a good head on her shoulders. She’s quiet and speedy and an expert. She’s been living most of her life out on the streets, surrounded by danger at all times, and yet she’s always been able to avoid capture. Dunnae worry about her. I’d be more worried if it was you out there.”

“There’s a very good reason that explains why I don’t leave,” McCoy snaps. “And okay. Fine. Say Uhura’s fine, nothing bad will happen to her, nothing bad could possibly happen to her despite the difference in situations and geography and behaviour now. What about Sulu? Chekov? Who’s really to say if we’ll see them again?”

“It’s only the morning. Give it time, McCoy. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“But you don’t know that.”

“No. I don’t. I also don’t know the status of our explosives, and you and I both know I’m the only one really qualified to check on them.”

“If nothing has happened yet, then I doubt it’s going to now. It’s been, what, half a day already?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Scotty replies. “Timers could have been set off. The issue is that we don’t know if they were or not. At a moment’s notice everything here could be gone, and that includes both you and me.”

McCoy turns to look pointedly at Scotty’s leg, then sighs and heaves himself over to examine it himself. Unlike Kirk’s wound, it’s actually healing at a decent rate, so that’s a good thing, but still, McCoy is worried about damaging the process and hurting the quick recovery. “Give it a little more time, Scott. Then we’ll see about giving you a crutch or something. For now you aren’t going anywhere – and you’re welcome to try to fight me if you still want to, but I’m fairly certain that I have the advantage here.”

Scotty smiles at this and McCoy returns it with a small grin of his own. “Aye, I suppose you’re right, there. Until then—“

“Hey guys!” Kirk says, returning from one of the back passages and plopping himself down next to Scotty. “You get all your yelling sorted out? Anyone get any sleep?”

McCoy eyes the red stain on Kirk’s arm with a frown, the long bandage now compensating for the lack of a sleeve, and the bracelet of soaked-through sleeve remnants long disposed of. “He did,” he says, jerking a thumb at Scotty as he moves from a squat to a sit. “I didn’t. And I suppose you didn’t, either.”

“Nope,” Kirk says, “but I am happy to report that everything here looks like it held up pretty well. There are a few caved in tunnels, but nothing that was vital or storing any of our things. We were lucky.”

“Did you happen to get a look at the weapons, Jim?” Scotty asks him, leaning back, his hands flat on the ground for support.

“I…” Kirk starts, his voice trailing off as he takes a brief moment to think. “I didn’t hear any beeping or see any flashing, if that’s what you mean? Is that good enough?”

Scotty frowns. “It’s good, but not good enough. McCoy, I really do need to get out there and take a look.”

“And you also really need to sit on this ankle. Give it a little while longer. You’re confident that Sulu and Chekov are going to come back? As soon as they do, then you can go.”

“Okay,” Kirk says, stepping in before either has the chance to go on. “Look. It’s early afternoon, or something like that. Midday. Whatever. I can hear birds and the sun is definitely shining from some spot high overhead. But these are also special circumstances. Compromise. I’m sure we aren’t in any immediate danger, so for now, drop it. Wait a few more hours and then I’ll help you out, Scotty.

“For now, there’s still one thing we haven’t really talked about in enough detail. Say Sarek does, indeed, have a young child. What do we do with it?”

“We can’t do anything with it,” McCoy says. “This is… We can’t just let this kind of target go. Not with this chance, not at any other time we get the chance. It has to be done, and if the kid gets in the way… it’s unfortunate. But sacrifices have to be made, and this is the greater good.”

“But it’s an innocent,” Scotty says. “The three of us, we were innocents once.”

Kirk nods. “Yeah, we were,” he says, “and neither of us exactly wanted that stripped away, either. But it still happened, and we weren’t taken into consideration, and… I don’t know. I really don’t want to hurt someone who isn’t so at fault.”

“Unless it’s already being tainted by the notion that it’s completely superior to us in every way and we’re beneath it. We could be taking care of a problem before it actually becomes one,” McCoy muses.

“But there’s no way to tell,” Scotty appends. “If we’re going to think along those lines, then we have to consider the possibility that it’ll be a key figure in ending slavery and placing us back on equal footing, working to get us all to coexist alongside one another without qualms as to our differences; without issues stemming from our histories.”

“Even though its environment suggests otherwise?”

“Do Vulcans ever go through rebellious phases?”

McCoy snorts at the remark and Kirk grins as well. “That’s great. But no – to try to find a common ground – do we all agree, at the least, that if we can save it, we will?”

“And how would you propose we do that, Jim?” McCoy asks, tone flat. “You want to bust in there and kidnap it before we destroy Sarek’s house?” Seeing Kirk’s face suddenly light up, McCoy blanches and starts moving his arms, acting in a gesture meaning to dissuade Kirk. “No. No, Jim. I’m not serious about doing that. Jesus, Jim, think about it for a moment—“

“I am,” Kirk interrupts. “Yeah. If we could get it, maybe we really could get it on our side… Who’s to say? It could see how we live, become sympathetic—“

“So this entire idea relies upon Stockholm Syndrome,” Scotty says, frowning at the idea. “I wouldnae go through with it.”

Kirk fixes them both with a look. “It’s not a bad idea!” he says. “Just listen to me for a minute, guys! If we could—“

“Shut up,” McCoy snaps, his ears picking up a sound. “I think I hear something…”

“You do!” Uhura’s voice pipes up out of nowhere. Soon her actual form emerges as she comes up from behind them. “Hey. I can’t find anything, and it looks like the sun is about to set. I was thinking, though – all of the other security generators were exposed because the earth shook and revealed them for us. So Sarek’s is probably hidden away under rock as well. It probably isn’t even accessible anymore. I was wondering if I could take one or two of the bombs, and use that to find it? I have an idea of where it might be, so I wouldn’t be wasting ammunition or anything…”

Scotty looks at McCoy, who looks right back and waves his hand in submission. “Alright, fine, whatever. Uhura, you support him while he helps you get what you need. Don’t let him put weight on that ankle.”

“Aye aye, Doctor,” Scotty rolls his eyes, taking Uhura’s hand in his own as she helps him stand.

-


If there’s anything that he is, it is goddamn furious.

But that would be putting it far, far too lightly. At a rate that would, honestly, be insulting to the feelings he’s had burning inside him for… it’s impossible to tell how long it’s been now.

There’s no source of light here. No contact from the outside world. Just a small, dank little box in which he has to curl up in order to even fit. He can’t move at all and is getting cramped from the fact, but besides that, there’re only a few small breathing holes, and even those don’t detail the time of day. There’s no light, it’s just stained walls he can only make out through touch.

His body cries out against him, hurt and in pain, that it wasn’t ever meant to be put in this sort of position, and he agrees. He knows that it’s wrong. And if the hopes of this little exercise was to put some humility into him, to calm him down and get him to cease being rebellious, to show him what real consequences would be… then he wasn’t going to back down from this. He wasn’t going to take it and the second he was released he was going to go batshit on anyone who had the audacity to think that this would be good enough.

It wouldn’t matter how long it was, would be. They could keep him confined in here for as long as they wished… He wouldn’t let himself be broken. Not by them, not by anyone. In fact, the longer he spent in here, now, the further Sulu’s resolve was strengthened. And as soon as he got out of here, there was no way he’d ever come back. Despite what anyone said, did – it was never going to happen.

Something had drawn him out to rebel in the first place. Since before he’d even known what was really going on. He’d somehow been able to put off being stripped away from his mother for a whole extra year, only leaving when he was eight years old, rather than the standard seven. And since he’d gotten used to testing his limits, pushing his boundaries, finding a slave-keeping family that allowed him the tiniest bit of leeway he could ever hope for… and then for them to recognize what it did to him…

Except it didn’t do anything to him. He was always like this. He was always going to be like this. At least in this world.

Because it definitely shouldn’t have been. He never should have been forced to hide underground. Shouldn’t have to do things for others or risk a punishment of some sort. He should be free. He already was, in his actions, his attitude, disregarding so much of what he shouldn’t. He couldn’t be free physically now, though – cramped in a dirty metal container that allowed no room for movement, body folded in on itself, limbs crying out in protest, thrust up against hard, jagged edges, without any food, any drink, and just the stale air for there was no way to tell how long. And he couldn’t mentally escape anywhere because he was just too fucking angry. And he couldn’t sleep because it hurt too much, and his entire body was just tensed, and if he couldn’t move properly whenever he got out…

If that was the plan then he’d do his best to rehabilitate himself immediately and then just pounce. His lesser strength be damned, he’d kept himself largely fit. He could put up with everything for a while, and if he were to die trying then that would just have to be the case.

Rather than let his muscles weaken in the box he tenses them, for what or when he doesn’t know, but to maintain this would most likely be in his best interests. This he can do. This he can do, and still feel comfortable with himself; unashamed. He’d had it.

And at least he knows he isn’t blind, because he would have felt that. Pitch black, sure, but that was a matter of environment, and not a fault in his body.

Yet.

He can’t let it escalate. This was as far as it was ever going to go because yeah, no… He was definitely meant to be free. They all were, and they were working towards that, and Sulu promises himself, right here and now, that he’ll be dead before he ever submits himself to conditions of this sort ever again.

He’s got himself so worked up that the light tapping coming from the side completely startles him and snaps him out of it, and he isn’t even sure what he’d do anymore if he could just get free. If he could avoid this situation again he’d…

He can’t let himself slip back into that mentality. Not ever again – he needs to get out and stay out.

“Hey, Hikaru?” The whisper comes through, faintly, just barely, and with that he can breathe again.

“Nyota?” he questions, softly, the question in the back of his mind wondering if it’s completely snapped, or if he’s suddenly found a way to get himself into a fantasy world. Or maybe he’s sleeping. The first seems most likely, though.

“Yeah, it’s me,” she replies, her voice remaining low and near silent. Sulu has to strain to hear her. “Look, Pavel’s here with me. We’re going to get you out of there. Just hold still, okay?”

Sulu laughs mirthlessly from inside his container. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been doing for a while now,” he mutters under his breath, blinking as though he needs to adjust his eyes to the sudden influx of light already, though it does not yet exist. He blows a breath, the bangs that had become disheveled and fallen into his eyes moving out, and he wonders just how covered in grime his entire being is.

This won’t be happening again, he thinks to himself, waiting, while he hears the sudden scraping – and grating – sound of something up against the edges, or possibly even inside of it, as it’s being picked apart or… something. Sulu can’t really tell from his vantage point. He doesn’t even really care, because it’s hardly like it even matters.

The noise suddenly stops and Sulu’s ears relax briefly, picking up on the sound of light, whispered mutterings on the other side before it resumes, and then there’s a click, and it resumes again, and another click, and it turns into a quick succession and then suddenly he can feel the air on himself, a slightly different breeze wafting through even though he’s only been freed from one small, enclosed space to another – this room has nothing else in it, and only a single, solitary door.

It’s also clean and white – something he didn’t get to see on his way up here, having been knocked unconscious and all – and a bit of moonlight is able to force itself into the room, flooding the area and making the white fucking glow and it’s too much for his eyes to deal with at the moment.

So he shuts them as Chekov’s arm shoots in and grasps his own and pulls him out, his knees scraping along the grimy bottom of the box and getting snagged and cut on the edge of it as he moves out and can spread his body out once again, which he takes full advantage of by stumbling before forcing himself upright and on his feet, immediately, because they have to hurry.

Uhura rushes over to the door, praying for it to open silently as she does, and it does, and immediately she darts out, Chekov right behind her, still clinging to Sulu who is desperately willing his feet to come back into use, now. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he utilized them, he just knows that it’s night now, and they came back at night, so maybe…

He doesn’t know and it pisses him off and he’s sure that both Chekov and Uhura have their own worries, but now is not the time to address those – now is the time to just get the fuck out of there. Getting away without incident takes a great precedence over finding out the well-beings of the others, because if they don’t get out then they’re all much more fucked than they would have been otherwise.

Uhura immediately takes them down a pathway, running as quietly as she can, and they’re going down flights of steps, and Sulu has to keep his eyes only barely cracked open and is almost solely relying on Chekov’s guidance, here, because he can’t quite just open his eyes yet to see for himself. It’s not the optimal solution but they’ve all learned to make do with whatever it is they can get, so he doesn’t say anything, and just keeps on going.

He balks when he realizes that they’re actually headed for the front of the residence, but is hardly in any position – nevermind the fact that he’s at the back of the line, even – to object, and just figures that the other two have worked out their insane scheme already. He places all trust in them and just goes without question.

It’s incredibly lucky, as well, that they weren’t stopped. Instead, Uhura keeps up her breakneck, largely silent pace, and Sulu wills himself to try to match her; if not now, then in the future, at least, because it has to be an incredibly useful skill. It’s proving itself right now as they skirt along edges of Vulcan property, just about in plain sight and looking highly suspicious enough by hugging the walls, and yet…

They’re able to keep going, move around, until they’re lost in some of the hills, and that’s when Sulu’s feet finally give out on him and he stops, dropping to the ground and rolling just a little, and if Chekov hadn’t let go of his hand at some point during the mad dash then he would’ve been dragged down with him.

He lets out a faint cry, though, as he falls, catching their attentions and that’s when they stop and join him, Uhura and Chekov both sitting down while Sulu lays sprawled out along the grass, breathing much more heavily than the other two.

“H-how long?” he pants out after several moments, trying to familiarize himself with the normal concept of being able to move so easily once again. He looks up at his companions’ faces, only to see horror on Chekov’s and complete and utter shock gracing Uhura’s features.

“That you were gone for?” she asks, and he nods. “You mean you don’t know?” she asks, again, and Sulu sighs and rolls his eyes and nods, again, and he feels another surge of anger rising up inside of him at the very fact that, apparently, he actually should know – which means it’s been too long already.

“It’s been about a whole day,” Uhura says, looking down at her hands and twisting her fingers together. The night air is filled with complete silence, Sulu’s ragged breathing aside, and remains that way before she asks, again, “Were you in there the whole time?”

“I guess I must have been. Or at least some point after having my head smashed into a wall and when I woke up again I was… A day?”

He blinks, uncertain, and turns his attention to Chekov. “Hey, what about you?” he asks, and he meant to keep his voice soft and gentle and calming and full of friendly concern but instead it comes out flat and suppressed. Chekov’s eyes roam over Sulu’s figure uncertainly. “Are you okay?” Sulu persists, taking note of the bruises on his friend’s face.

Chekov nods and shrugs away from Sulu’s reaching hand, instead pointing at his friend’s left temple. Sulu blinks and slowly – it feels as though his limbs are there but they aren’t, as though they lag as they move even though they don’t – and feels up there, under his hair, and traces down it. When he pulls his fingers back they’re a little sticky and red and he suspects that it must be covering a significant portion of the side of his head, and there’s probably more hidden underneath his dark hair.

Which would make sense, really. He only recalls being slammed into a wall once, but who’s to say what else happened after that? And probably with cold-hearted precision as well.

This really needs to end.

Uhura coughs uncertainly, shakes her head and gets back to her feet. “Okay – this probably isn’t safe,” she says. “Are you guys okay to keep going? I mean, we can catch up on this later… And with Kirk and Scotty and McCoy, as well, so we won’t have to reiterate stories. For now I’ve got an additional security generator exposed amongst the rock and I need help to disable it.”

At this news Chekov smiles and leaps up, but Sulu is a little slower in pushing himself off of the ground and following at a more conservative pace. Now that he thinks about it, his head really hurts. But at least he has all of his motor faculties. And he’s never leaving without a weapon ever again. Not a fucking chance.

“You know this means we can’t go back?” he whispers to Chekov when he catches up, the two of them following Uhura, who’s just a little bit further ahead, continuing to make sure that their way is clear and nobody will intercept their path. “You understand that, right?”

“I… am not sure,” Chekov replies, solemnly and trying to keep his eyes fixed ahead, trying to not look at the blood covering half of Sulu’s face. “I mean… it is life, is it not?”

Sulu’s eyes darken at the words and his strides turn more purposeful, aggressive, as he increases his pace and advances ahead of Chekov, muttering under his breath as he does so, “Then you’ll be going back on your own. That’s your choice. I can’t make you do anything.” Though quiet his tone is harsh and bitter and Chekov just increases his own pace to keep up, but doesn’t say anything in reply.

They speed walk in silence, until Uhura backtracks to them once again, popping up right in front of the two and grinning, having mostly been focused on just her task at hand and now delighted that she’s completed her part. “It’s just up over there,” she says, jerking her head back slightly in an automatic gesturing action. “Come on, I need you guys. I have no idea what I’m doing here – my business is to find it. I’ve done my part. Now the sooner we destroy it, the better! Let’s go!” And with that she’s taking back off. Chekov hurries after her and Sulu shrugs and follows, more mindful of his steps, still feeling a touch awkward being on his feet but supposing that this was probably the best way to get back into the action. He feels the air so much more on his skin, now, than he ever did before, and finds himself furious at the prospect that he’ll have to live underground for a while. He definitely belongs far, far above it – and he curses his inability to get there. He can only hope to be able to achieve that at some point in his lifetime.

When he catches up with his friends, he sees Uhura standing with her back to the generator, looking out for any possibly dangers, while Chekov is crouched down at it, ripping out various wires as quickly and yet as gingerly as he can, breathing evenly as his eyes dart all over the mechanism and he severs whatever it is he can wherever he thinks it needs to be done.

Sulu appraises the situation, then turns around and looks around the surrounding area.

“How’s it coming, Chekov?” he asks, tone casual, his back still to the security measure in question. He doesn’t wait for a response as he hefts a decently sized rock, working the muscles in his arms again, then turns around to see Chekov standing off to the side, nodding at the machine in question.

Its insides have been largely stripped, wires and any bits of metal at all usable harvested while the rest of its insides hang outside, a mess of plastic and copper and faintly glinting silver metal erupting from a black encasing, a mild green glow still emitting from some panels at the top of the structure.

“Well, we might as well make sure it stays broken,” Sulu mutters, smashing the rock into the panels and using the surge of adrenaline and anger to do it again, and again, and again, on various points of the machine, shattering glass and leaving it to cave inside the structure, becoming more and more dented and useless by the second. It’s mangled and Sulu is working his frustration out and he’s gradually feeling better with every hit until he has to stop and breathe and let his grip on the rock slip from his sweaty fingers while he tries to steady his knees.

Uhura had turned around at some point to watch, a little in awe. With the excitement now dying down and the night resuming its quiet about them, she observes the machine briefly. “I… think that’ll just about do it,” she remarks casually.
 
 
 
acountrymouseacountrymouse on September 21st, 2009 03:31 am (UTC)
Again, love this. I like seeing everyone's perspective. The difference between Sulu and Chekov was really profound.

And Bones! Oh Bones, I'm so sad for him. And he's the pragmatic, "Kill the bastards before they kill you" guy that no Rebel Band can be without. I like, even though it's sad. I can just imagine what he's going to be like when Spock shows up. Which I can't wait for! When, uh, is he gonna show up? *Fails at subtle*
ball of Calgarian rage: eager - Chekovperiariyx on September 21st, 2009 03:43 am (UTC)
Thank you! (When I say ensemble, I really do mean it - I can't stand to leave any of the main guys out, I love them all too much.)

Hee! I'm barely scratching the surface with Bones here, really - he's gonna be so much fun to delve into more, but the fact that it already looks like it with him has me all the more excited to really do it.

Hahaha - I'm looking at my outline (fun fact - the plot takes up twelve pages and with these two chapters I'm maybe, uh, three quarters of the way through the first. Whoops), but it looks like he should be coming up in the next one! Yaaay!

And thank you once again for this gorgeous comment! :D I'm delighted that you're enjoying it!
The sightly crazy Paladin: [Lambo Reborn] 20+ Year Old Lamborenuki on September 21st, 2009 04:18 am (UTC)
Kirk is planning on kidnapping Spock? Ohh....*wonders if he does*

...And this Bones's interactions with Spock is going to be...interesting to say the lest. personally...I kinda of curious on their reaction if/when they find out that Spock? Is half-human as well. XD

And there goes the shields..or at least a shield.
ball of Calgarian rage: slant - Spockperiariyx on September 21st, 2009 04:23 am (UTC)
I'd assume that absolutely would be of interest, yes. Hee. As long as things remain interesting!

Thank you!
The sightly crazy Paladinrenuki on September 21st, 2009 04:44 am (UTC)
*grin* Indeed.

Ya welcome!
Pseudonym: Swirlywoovervada on September 22nd, 2009 02:42 am (UTC)
Yay! I love all the build-up. :) And I can't wait until we see some Spock...
ball of Calgarian rage: slant - Spockperiariyx on September 22nd, 2009 02:46 am (UTC)
Ohh, me and build-up. Glad to know it's not being too much, haha!

Thank you so much! He'll be here soon. :D
lemmikilemmiki on November 23rd, 2009 07:23 pm (UTC)
I always find the best things just a little bit late. Anyway, I love this universe. I love it a lot. The way you've fitted the characters into it is flawless and it all makes sense. Now I'm going to go back and re-read the first chapter. <333 This is just pure awesome.
ball of Calgarian rage: awesome - Uhuraperiariyx on November 23rd, 2009 07:27 pm (UTC)
Aaw, you are so sweet!

It's not necessarily too late, I should point out, though; real-life kind of skull-fucked me harder than I was expecting and then other fandoms of mine started coming to the forefront and things got messy and writing kind of fell by the wayside as a result. I'm all kinds of shamed for this, seriously.

But aah, thank you so much! I'm delighted that this world just... works that way for you. :D I'm working on some other stuff right now, trying to get back into writing, but I'll probably end up taking another crack at this as well~

Again can't thank you ENOUGH for this comment, you're just far too sweet and it's making me feel very happy and warm and fuzzy inside. <33 Thank youu!
(Deleted comment)
ball of Calgarian rage: star trek - kirk/sulu - exhaustperiariyx on December 15th, 2009 05:34 am (UTC)
I have absolutely no problem with you friending me! :D I'm honoured, and thank you. I'm hoping to be able to get back to it... ... sometime in the nearish future. H-hopefully. ... It's not dead yet!

Thanks again, and absolutely, go ahead~
(Anonymous) on December 30th, 2009 01:21 pm (UTC)
captivity....
pls, pls, pls... post moar!! Homey dyin' ta see what happens next!!
ball of Calgarian rage: star trek - kirk - satisfactionperiariyx on December 30th, 2009 01:31 pm (UTC)
Re: captivity....
Thank you!

I really do intend to return to this in the new year - I still have that great big outline - but it's always nice to know that people are still interested.
(Deleted comment)
ball of Calgarian rage: star trek - kirk/sulu - exhaustperiariyx on April 18th, 2010 07:37 am (UTC)
Hi!

Don't worry, I'm going to - I know it's been a while and this sounds a bit like an empty promise, but I really do legitimately intend to return to this fic. I'm nearly done with school, other obsessions are starting to die down, so I'm just about ready to fully get back into it; a few other bits while working on this some on the side and-- yeah. No. I'm going to come back to this fic. I intended to before you made this comment, really, but seeing that there's still interest is genuinely incredibly encouraging, and I've still got all my notes, so, yeah, no worries, it's gonna happen! I'm reluctant to give a time because I did that in this chapter and ended up looking like a complete ass, but honestly, if I'm not back in on this by the time May is over, I'll be incredibly surprised and disappointed with myself.

Thank you so much for expressing your continued interest, though, it's incredibly inspiring and I'll work hard to get back in on this effectively!