Away Mission 1

Jim and the team were beamed down to the planet's surface. Immediately, he got a sense of something wrong. They were greeted by the chieftain who spoke in his native language. The people they were meeting with refused all Federation aid, and it was the Enterprise's job to figure out why were weren't accepting help now, when they'd accepted it in the past.

Uhura translated for them. "We're to follow them."

Jim nodded. "Excellent." Having read up on the culture, he knew that they were supposed to go in order of least important to important, so he waited for the three ensigns to go, then Uhura, and then Pock.

He wouldn't mind walking behind her, normally. But he had to keep his mind on the mission. As it was, he couldn't resist sneaking a peak or two at his partner's lovely ass.

Pock stepped in front of the Captain, walking behind Lieutenant Uhura as they followed the natives through the small, crowded village. As they moved, she slowly took notice of a pair of eyes trained firmly on her posterior. An amused smirk graced her lips.

Without turning around, Pock spoke, her tone casual.

"If you insist upon staring at my hindquarters," she said briskly, "then perhaps, Captain, it might aid you to exercise a bit more discretion when you do so."

Jim's gaze snapped up to stare at the back of Pock's head. He wondered how the hell she knew. "I don't know what you're talking about, Commander," he murmured back.

Maybe he could pull off the innocent act.

In front of them, he watched as Nyota shook her head.

Pock smirked.

"Of course not," she said. "If you were not staring at me, then perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what kind of vendor we just passed? Was that woman catering vegetables or fruits? Since obviously, with your senses freed of distractions, you would have noticed such a potentially important detail."

Nyota sniggered slightly as Jim gaped at the back of Pock's head. "Uh... fruit?" he guessed. He mentally cursed the fact that he was having issues paying attention to anything other than the woman in front of him.

Pock smirked a little more distinctly.

"It was neither," she said, her voice barely restraining the amusement within. "The woman was selling baskets."

Secretly, though, and in the confidence of her own mind, she felt almost smug that she had enraptured his attentions so thoroughly.

Shit! he cursed. She's sassy today, he realized.

They entered the chief's house and sat where they were requested to, with Nyota directing them where to sit.

Pock sat beside the Captain with her ankles crossed. It was the proper way for a female to conduct themselves in this society. She nodded politely to the others in the chieftan's kitchen. A word of greeting slipped through her lips in a hushed tone.

Jim, now determined not to be distracted by his partner sitting beside him, listened as the Chief spoke to him, as Nyota translated in his ear.

"I'm sorry," he said, brow furrowed. "I will admit to being confused... We have been given orders to see why you're refusing aid?"

They spoke and Uhura whispered, "They say they... Found a better offer?"

Pock's brow furrowed. She would have spoken to them in their own tongue, but she did not feel familiar enough with it to do so. So, she allowed Nyota to translate for her.

"Please ask them who this offer is with," she ordered.

Uhura did as she said, then relayed back.

"They said it was the Klingons, Commander."

Jim couldn't help it. He snorted. "The Klingons?" he said, not realizing that Nyota was sending him Shut up now, idiot! looks. "How can the Klingons have a better offer?"

Nyota, knowing that Jim knew Standard Sign Language, signed to him Captain! Stop! You're insulting them!

He frowned slightly at her. What?

Shut up!

During their little exchange, the chief pulled out a phaser and shot two of the security ensigns that they'd brought with them.

Jim pulled out his phaser and comm. and hailed the Enterprise, shouting for a beam out.

Pock withdrew her own phaser just as one of the chief's consuls aimed a weapon at Uhura. She fired, and the man fell, his phaser clattering to the ground.

She aimed at the chief.

It was a matter of seconds, she knew, but it felt like much longer. Her phaser was aimed at the chief. The chief's phaser was aimed at Captain Kirk. He had the advantage, but she was relatively quick with a trigger, and thus they were equally matched, statistically. But she was too slow. She hadn't aimed fast enough. He had.

"Jim!" Pock warned as her finger pressed the trigger.

The chief fell. His phaser clacked to the ground.

Even then, she was too late.

Jim, hearing Pock's warning, attempted to move out of the way of the man's shot. He was blocked by the chair he'd been sitting in. The phaser blast - which this population wasn't even supposed to have, fucking Klingons! - hit him in the shoulder, knocking him backwards. The tingling that indicated a beam out took over, and they were beamed out.

"No!" Pock cried, just as the beam took over.

It hit his heart.

Statistics showed that those with damage to the heart from a phaser blast had a 9.8% chance of recovery. That left a very, very large margin for not recovering. For dying. Jim Kirk could die the day after he'd admitted to harboring romantic feelings for her, the day after she spent the night wrapped in his arms in a room that smelled like him.

He could die.

When all of her molecules had realigned, and she could move, she did. Right to his side.

"Jim!"

Jim sat up, favoring his left arm. "Well. That went well," he said, plastering his right hand over the wound that was still bleeding. "Shit. They did get me." He pulled his and away to look at the wound. Bones would want to see it, but it wasn't too bad as far as phaser wounds went. "Did we get everyone out?"

Nyota nodded. "Yes, sir. Including the... the dead, sir."

Pock's eyes fell on the wound as Jim sat up. He covered it with his hand as she knelt at his side, batting it away so she could see the damage.

It hadn't hit his heart.

She breathed.

"Lay down," she growled, pushing him back and examining the wound site. She turned to an Ensign. "Get me a stretcher to transport him to Sickbay." The transporter tech handed her a med kit, and she withdrew an antibacterial spray and spritzed it on the phaser wound. She then withdrew a bandage, putting pressure on the bleeding shoulder.

He was alive.

Jim was alive.

She breathed again.

"Jesus," he breathed, letting her push him back down, "pushy much?" He winced as she sprayed it with the spray and put the bandage on it. "Fuck, would it kill you to be less harsh?" he muttered, wincing again.

Pock narrowed her eyes at the man, pressing her lips together into a thin line.

She knew, on some level, that he was not unfair in his request. She was being unusually callous. But in her defense, there had been a moment where she had believed that her first night lying with Jim Kirk would be her last, and fate was more twisted and cruel than ever she had believed.

She pressed just a bit too hard with the bandage.

When he winced predictably, her eyes narrowed further.

"Apologies, Captain," Pock growled. "I shall attempt to be less harsh the next time you nearly get yourself killed."

Jim's eyes narrowed, eyes trailing over her face. There was that little line between her eyebrows that indicated she was worried or had been. He gritted his teeth as Pock pressed into the bandage. "Thanks, Commander."

The stretcher came in and he allowed himself to be transferred to the stretcher. "And to go deal with Bones. Yay..."