Fic - Merlin / Star Trek Reboot - The Once and Future Captain

[lorannah]

WARNINGS - It is my aim to post warnings for major triggers on all my fics - however, as I am aware not everyone wishes to see warnings, I have placed them underneath the grey block below, to see the text, please highlight. For a full list of the things I warn for and for further explanation of my warning policy please head here.

Title: The Once and Future Captain
Fandom: Star Trek Reboot/Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Pretty much everyone I could think of – though the focus is definitely on Kirk, Spock, Arthur and Merlin – with smidgeons of coupledom encompassing a variety of sexualities
Rating: All
Contains: (skip) Magical Mishaps and Transporter Malfunctions, Body Swap, The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Moaning, Blind Panic and Ranting, Mass Confusion, Frustrated Flirting, Merlin is Clever, Arthur is Sneaky, Kirk is Reckless, Spock is Not Amused, Battles, Kissage of Dubious Consent,
Length: 15,700
Notes: So this was the other story I was working on when I wrote The Tempest, which now strikes me as a little bit odd - as they're pretty different. This one was spawned when a couple of people mentioned how Merlin and Arthur are a lot like Kirk and Spock (including, strangely, my book on Arthurian Legend) - I spent a couple of days trying to figure out how a cross-over would work and then wrote the whole plot out in lolspeak - which pretty much sums up the seriousness of this story. Anyway I started off thinking that Arthur=Kirk and Merlin=Spock, which is sort of true, but then I realised in my head at least that personality wise Kirk was a lot more like Merlin and this sort of went from there.
Download Link (complete story, word file): http://www.box.net/shared/yy35xx8zsi

Summary: Arthur has a problem – he’s suddenly found himself trapped in the body of the captain of a starship about to be dragged into battle, he’s so out of his depth he’s probably already drowned and to make matters worse this captain, Kirk, is probably leaving a trail of destruction across Camelot – there’s only one thing he’s certain of. It’s all Merlin’s fault. Kirk on the other hand is planning to have the time of his life.

 

The Once and Future Captain

“Are you sure this is a wise idea, Captain?” Spock asked as they edged around the cliff.

Thankfully, as it would have threatened to spill him over the edge, Kirk just avoided the automatic flinch that had started to plague him every time Spock tried to use logic in his presence. He had been hoping that the Vulcan would figure out that logic wasn’t something that could exist beside the sheer awesomeness of a Kirk. But apparently he wasn’t as clever as everybody thought.

“Captain?” Kirk could almost hear the raised eyebrow; though he was too busy watching the sheer drop in front of them to check.

Behind them there was the sound of a muffled roar, which hopefully meant the beast hadn’t yet managed to break its way out of the flag he’d wrapped around it’s snout. He’d expected Spock to at least be enthusiastic about that – it had been damn impressive, even if he did have to say so himself. Of course, Spock had just raised one of his bloody eyebrows and pointed out that as the flag was an essential part of their diplomatic mission that that wasn’t ‘a wise idea’ either.

This ‘being best friends forever’ thing was turning out to be a nightmare.

“There wasn’t any other option for escape,” he pointed out as another part of the path crumbled beneath his toes; he moved his foot further round.

“I was referring to the next part of the plan. The Enterprise is still several light years away and while, Lieutenant Commander Scott’s current hypothesis is intriguing the technology still hasn’t been thoroughly tested.”

Kirk had a sudden image of a deep fried Beagle or whatever had happened to the bloody thing. He pushed it to the back of his mind.

“Come on Spock, ever heard about having a little faith? Or is faith too illogical for you Vulcans.”

There was a slight pause.

“Vulcans have strong religious belief,” the voice was calm, measured – probably no more so than normal – but then this was Spock.

“And what about you?” Kirk asked.

Worryingly close there was the sound of ripping fabric and a deep snarl. Looked like it was time for a leap of faith.

“Whenever you’re ready, Scotty.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Kirk barely had a moment to register, with nervousness, the sound of glee in Scotty’s voice.

* * * * *

“It’s the fastest way. A short cut.”

Merlin watched Arthur carefully, seeing the doubt and hesitation and moment of panic, hidden in the small tightening of his muscles. He was getting better at masking his discomfort.

Merlin supposed he at least should appreciate the effort. Mostly he was just frustrated. Things still weren’t right.

“If we cut through the Forest of Arden we can be there by tomorrow morning,” Arthur said.

“By which time the rebels will probably have attacked another village,” Merlin pointed out, Arthur’s lips thinned. “Why are you so scared of this?”

“I’m not scared,” he snapped.

“But you won’t let me use magic.” He’d hoped things would get easier once Arthur knew.

“If you haven’t noticed, Merlin, once people – especially you - start using magic things tend to go horribly wrong.”

“That only happened once – alright twice – you’ve got to start trusting me sometime. You don’t have to do everything by yourself. This could save people.”

Arthur grimaced. “Fine.”

Merlin grinned, not planning to give him a chance to change his mind. He seized Arthur’s arms, fingers wrapping around them, feeling the magic building within him, desperate for release. He could feel it deep in his stomach, like a weight, pulling them away.

Then the weight turned, unbalanced and the world twisted around him. From the corners of his eyes he could see flashing lines of pure white light surrounding them. Something was wrong.

* * * * *

“And...” Scotty said, pausing, building the anticipation. This was going to be fantastic.

The moment passed, time ticking away. They should have been back by now.

“Errr....”

Slowly, gut wrenchingly slowly light began to build on the transporter pad. Shimmering, coalescing magically into the shape of... one very small, annoyed looking dog. It glared at him.

“Ah.”

* * * * *

There was that horrible feeling of falling, like the one you sometimes got just before you woke up, that jerk that ran all the way through your body. For a disorientating second, Kirk wondered if it meant he had finally slipped, plummeting away from the path or whether the transporter had taken hold.

Then they were on solid ground again. Solid ground with a horrifying suggestion of greenery. They seemed to be in some sort of forest. Not good. Although at least there was a significant lack of growling or sudden death by cliff in the local vicinity.

“Scotty? Where the hell are we?” No response.

Beside him Spock sighed. Spock never sighed. It was a sigh with echoes – mostly echoes of annoyance.

Kirk looked at him sharply and... His mind went blank. Slowly, carefully, he let his own fingers trace the contours of his face. Well, it was somebody’s face – it didn’t feel like his. Dammit. He knew his face, shaving did that for you, this was very very wrong.

Meanwhile Spock looked like he was about ten years younger and had developed cheek bones that could cut through steel. He definitely didn’t look like Spock.

“I think there may have been some complications with the latest calculations, Captain,” Spock said, his voice even again.

“Dammit, Scotty.” Still no answer.

He wasn’t even wearing his clothes – he was in something coarse and itchy and there wasn’t even a hint or sign of a communicator. Spock was wearing a stupid scarf.

“So what do we do now?” He asked the taunting countryside. They must be miles from anywhere.

“With the lack of any other available destinations, I would suggest that we head to the Castle.”

“The...”

There it was rising out of the trees. A goddamned medieval castle.

* * * * *

“This is quite possibly the most ridiculous thing you have ever done, Merlin,” Arthur snapped. “And once we get out of here I am going to string you over the side of the castle, smear you in raw meat and let the eagles peck you, slowly to death.”

‘Here’ appeared to be some kind of wardrobe – at least they were surrounded by clothes. Tangled amongst them in the darkness.

“Errr...” Was the only response.

“Oh, very good, very loquacious...”

Arthur was aware that he was mostly ranting, he pushed some sort of tunic out of his way in annoyance and finally found the inside wall of the wardrobe; it felt strange, cold and dead – more like the steel of a sword than wood but softer.

Behind him a sudden light flared.

“Fire? Really, Merlin. Do you honestly think that is a good idea when we’re surrounded by...?”

He waved his hand at the clothing and suddenly caught sight of his arm.

“It’s not fire, it’s more like light...”

Merlin was saying, his voice sounding strange, muffled by the clothing - but Arthur wasn’t listening; he was staring at his arm in horror. Or, to be more specific, at the sleeve of his top.

“And why the hell am I dressed in YELLOW!”

He was vaguely aware that he was starting to sound hysterical. He hated yellow.

“Arthur...” Merlin sounded horrified, that’s what the colour yellow did – oh yeah, it could suit people like Guinevere, everything suited her – but on him...

“Arthur... turn around... the mirror.”

Arthur turned, a quiet voice in the back of his head already telling him off for doing what Merlin had asked and then, as he saw the mirror, the voice was swallowed by pure blind panic.

In the flickering blue light held in Merlin’s hand he could see them both, stood together – except it wasn’t them – it was somebody completely different. They were silent for a long moment.

“Forget the eagles,” Arthur said, his voice low and dangerous and not his own. “They’re too good for you, I’m going to cut you up, I won’t even kill you first, and then I’m going to have you fed to the pigs.”

There was a sudden noise from beyond the strange wall, the sound of voices. Arthur felt Merlin tense behind him, the blue flame disappearing. He reached for the sword that was no longer hung at his waist, his fingers grasping uselessly at something else – something else made from the strange material of the wall.

The wall slipped away, light spilling in on them - blinding them for a second. As the light cleared, faces peered in – male and female – all unfamiliar, all in strange clothes, all wearing expressions of surprise and relief and happiness. The opposite of how Arthur felt. Without his sword he felt powerless.

“See I told you that they wouldn’t have gone far,” a man at the front grinned. He sounded vaguely like the people from the far north of Camelot.

He was also clutching a dog in his arms and Arthur finally felt like he was seeing a kindred spirit. The dog was glaring at the man with an intensity that suggested it was compiling a list of the variety of small ways it could make his life extremely unpleasant.

“And look who we found,” the man said, smiling at them even broader. “Well found might be the wrong word but at any rate...”

A tall black woman quelled him with a look. She was staring at Merlin.

“Are you alright?” She asked and then glancing at Arthur, added. “Captain.”

There was a momentary pause while the words settled into Arthur’s brain.

“Well that’s just typical,” he heard Merlin mutter behind him.

“Captain?” The woman said again.

“Fine... I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy.”

Somebody reached out to him and helped him from the cupboard. He just avoided stumbling.

Beneath his feet the ground felt like it was trembling, a low dangerous growl running through every surface. Around him strange walls rose – white and shiny and unreal. Everything looked wrong – like a nightmare. He looked away unable to bear it, looking to the ceiling and instead his eyes found a huge circular window.

It looked out onto the vastness of night, deeper and darker than he had ever seen it and there were stars, millions of stars, brighter than he had ever seen them. And Arthur was aware with a sickening feeling that they weren’t his stars.

“Incoming transmission, Captain, Priority Channel,” an oddly mangled voice spoke from nowhere. Everyone was watching him. Their expressions of concern echoing the sick feeling in his stomach.

“Captain?” The missing voice again.

“On our way,” one of the other men said, gripping his arm.

* * * * *

Kirk had forgotten how much he hated hills. Cliffs were something different – cliffs had style. Cliffs walked into a bar and said – “You will never believe what just happened here, I mean look at me – you can’t even begin to imagine what happened here but you know it was epic and you’re kicking yourself you missed it.”

A cliff was practically the geological equivalent of him.

Well alright, they didn’t actually do any of that, because technically it was quite difficult for a cliff to walk into a bar but that was what hills did – they made you think crazy. Thank god Iowa didn’t have any hills. Hills were just dull and monotonous and ridiculously tiring. And they were just there, who the hell even fucking knew how hills turned up. Well Spock probably knew – he probably liked hills. Bastard.

And Kirk bet that hills acted all superior to cliffs and were always pointing out how they were wrong and looking down on them and never showing any emotions and that it was absolutely impossible for the cliff to know what the hill was thinking... bloody hills.

As if it had read his thoughts, the hill suddenly slipped beneath him, mud churning underneath his feet. His balance spinning away until Spock reached out and, almost instinctively, steadied him. It was a shame he hadn’t been so quick the first two times or Kirk might not feel like he’d been involved in some overzealous mud wrestling.

Spock, of course, with his perfect Vulcan balance hadn’t even fallen once. He didn’t even stop talking as he caught Kirk. Just kept on hypothesising.

They’d been discussing what had happened for about ten minutes already, though to actually call it a discussion, Kirk thought, he should possibly have been involved at some point.

“... Still appears that the likeliest scenario is that the transporter has simply directed us to the wrong location. This planet may either be primitive based on the appearance of the castle or one of the worlds pursuing nostalgic design.”

There was a hint of disdain in his voice and Kirk couldn’t help the slight quirk of his mouth. Next time the Enterprise was allowed shore leave, they were going to visit every Nostalgia Planet in the seven systems.

“Possibly of course, when the transporter malfunctioned we were also transported through time, although that seems less likely. Neither of these hypotheses, however, explains the transformation in our appearances.”

Kirk reached up a hand self consciously and smoothed it over the unfamiliar contours of his face. He was itching to see himself in a mirror – and dreading it – this wasn’t right, not right at all.

“We also shouldn’t rule out malicious intent – we may have been stranded deliberately.”

Kirk had to agree with that at least, McCoy had once told him that when he was involved it was probably better to presume malicious intent and rule it out later.

“Also it is possible that none of this is real and is entirely illusory. The Xyrillian race has impressive holographic abilities. This may be utilizing that technology although as a peaceful, separatist race it is unclear what their purpose would be. Possibly they intend it as some sort of test…”

That might be something, Kirk liked tests, you could cheat tests.

“So we beat the test, we get out of here?” He interrupted.

Spock paused for a moment. “That is a possibility. Though it is also possible that a more malicious race has gained access to the technology and-”

“Fine,” Arthur interrupted firmly as a pair of gates loomed out of the forest towards them, the castle trapped behind it, “We’ll go into the castle, beat the test and get back to the Enterprise.”

“I’m not certain that...” Spock was saying but paused as a pretty black girl hurried through the gate towards them.

“Thank god,” she said and then her eyes brushed over Kirk, not that he minded, he was used to women staring at him. He grinned at her. “Are you alright, Arthur? You look like you’ve been pulled through half the forest.”

The grin turned to a frown.

“Oh... I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” she was babbling, “It’s just it’s usually Merlin and...”

Right, Kirk thought, so Merlin and Arthur. This was only slightly insane. Maybe the hills had had more affect on him than he’d thought; they’d definitely been ganging up on him.

“Ah,” Spock said, “Interesting. So this is planet has taken its inspiration from the Arthurian legends.”

The girl stared at him blankly for a second.

“Arthurian legend? You mean legends about Arthur. Oh god.” She laughed suddenly, a shocked, horrified laugh which stopped as abruptly as it started. “I’m sorry.”

“Well done,” Kirk said to him. “Ignore him.”

“Right...” She was looking between the two of them in concern. “Errr... Sorry... The King wants you. Though it might be best to change first.”

 * * * * *

“I am going to kill you,” Arthur hissed at Merlin as they moved through the corridors of the strange building.

Merlin was gazing around them, his strange new eyes wide and excited, and a grin playing at his lips.

“Are you enjoying this?” Arthur asked. Merlin hesitated mid step and then started walking again.

“Well it is sort of exciting.”

Arthur couldn’t prevent the groan that escaped his lips and a few of the people around them shot him worried looks.

Obviously the magic had gone wrong – maybe he’d gone mad or it had taken them to the wrong place or maybe none of it was real. Maybe it was a test, like the one Anhora had set after he killed the unicorn – if he could just work out what he was supposed to learn maybe they could both escape.

They emerged into a large circular room, almost like it was in a tower. It felt completely unreal. Everything was bright white; it hurt Arthur’s eyes, like snow on a sunny day.

The world seemed to be spinning around him. The floor was red while the ceiling loomed above them, domed and shining like Morgana’s pearls. There were chairs and things he didn’t recognise. The walls were glowing with bright lights – blues and greens and reds and more white.

It had to be magic.

Last of all, as if his mind had been trying to put it off, his eyes were drawn to the window that took up nearly half the wall. He had never seen a window so large.

Outside the window were endless, unfamiliar, stars – above and in front and impossibly below them. Arthur felt the world drop away from him, twisting, for a moment he thought he might faint. Which was ridiculous. He was a Prince, he was going to be a King – he didn’t faint.

Behind him Merlin was stood incredibly still, as shocked as he was, and then Merlin’s hands were supporting him, guiding him to a chair.

Everyone seemed to be waiting for something.

Between him and the terrifying view a boy was sat, he turned to Arthur with a bright smile. “Shall I replay the message, Captain?”

It was the voice from before; at least it was vaguely reassuring to know that it actually came from a human – even if it was a human who seemed to be having trouble with his ‘r’s’. Arthur couldn’t speak, so he just nodded. The boy’s face creased in slight concern for a second and then he turned back. Another disembodied voice filled the room.

“A disturbance has been reported in the Romulan Neutral Zone, several Federation outposts have reported that they have been attacked by an unknown number of enemy ships – all Star Fleet Vessels are ordered to report to the region at the greatest speed and are recommended to prepare for combat.”

The room was silent.

Arthur hadn’t understood even half the words that the voice had said apart from the one at the end – he looked instinctively to Merlin who was stood beside him. He finally looked as scared as Arthur felt.

“Captain?” Someone asked and then after waiting a moment for a response that didn’t come. “What are our orders, Captain?”

His mind was blank; he had no idea what to say. All he could do was keep his eye fixed on Merlin – the one point of normalcy in the world and even that was all wrong.

“The Captain isn’t feeling well,” Merlin said, the words halting. “I think it’d be better if he returned to his room... I’ll take him.”

“If the Captain isn’t feeling well,” one of the men said, his voice annoyed. “Then I’ll take him to the medical bay.”

“No... No...” Arthur said quickly, “I just need to lay down. Mer...” he realised with a moment of panic that he had no idea what Merlin was called, so instead he waved a hand vaguely in his direction rising quickly to his feet. “He can accompany me there.”

“Dammit, Jim. I am the Doctor here.”

“That’s an order,” he snapped. It was the only thing he could think to say and he regretted it almost immediately. The sense of shock was palpable. There was a long drawn out silence as Merlin slipped his hand underneath one of his arms.

“Captain,” the black woman said, “Shouldn’t Commander Spock remain on the bridge, as he is Second-In-Command.”

Arthur felt Merlin’s fingers tighten on his arm. What sort of insane place was this that they would make Merlin his Second-In-Command? They were utterly, utterly doomed.

“Errr...” Merlin said, not quite able to keep the note of panic out of his voice and then seemed to pull himself together. “I am also not feeling well. We’ll leave the... err... bridge in your hands.”

The girl’s eyebrow shot up, but they didn’t give her a chance to argue, they were already out of the door.

Behind them Arthur heard the man from the North say: “I don’t know why you’re all looking at me?”

* * * * *

The serving girl seemed a little flustered. Spock supposed that Kirk would have called her a wench but given the way she had pressed herself tightly and chastely against the wall, that hardly seemed fair. Her basic expression was of complete terror. Of course, that was quite possibly because the crown prince of Camelot had just asked her which way his room was. She was most likely under the impression that he was having a mental crisis of some kind.

Spock watched as Kirk stroked a finger along her shoulder, smiling broadly at her.

She raised a trembling finger. “Up the stairs, down the corridor, third door on the left.”

“Thanks doll.” Kirk pressed a kiss to her cheek, close to the edge of her mouth; she turned her face away, as far as possible, from the expression of intimacy. A bright blush colouring her cheeks.

Kirk prised himself loose of her and headed for the stairs. Before Spock could move, the girl gave him an extremely sympathetic look of pity. Which made very little sense. Spock ignored her expression and turned to follow Kirk.

He waited until they would be entirely out of hearing to speak. “Given that we may be being tested in some way, it seems unwise to draw attention to our lack of knowledge or for us to act in a way that seems out of character to others, Captain.”

Kirk didn’t even hesitate in his stride. “Maybe you should stop calling me Captain then. Anyway, you can’t expect me to believe that the King isn’t having fun with at least half the girls in this castle.” His tone was smug.

Which was worrying, it was imperative that Kirk took their actions here seriously. Although taking all his previous behaviour into account, Spock considered that it seemed unlikely this would be the case. It would also be entirely pointless to voice his concern.

“Noted,” he said instead. “Given the reaction of the girl you just spoke to, however, it seems likely that your behaviour was seen as unusual... and unwanted,” he added.

Kirk ran a hand across his face, a gesture he had repeated more than once since their unexpected arrival. “Yeah,” he said, “That was weird. I really need to see a mirror.”

“Also with the information we have gathered so far,” Spock felt the ‘we’ was being generous given the fact that Kirk had contributed nothing so far to the investigation. “It would seem that you are, in fact, not the king. Depending upon which version of the legend you follow it would seem most likely that that position belongs to your father, Uther Pendragon.”

“Which still makes me a prince,” Kirk pointed out in gleeful tones. Spock experienced an unfamiliar sense of doom.

* * * * *

Merlin was working on the theory, hopefully correct, that the room they had first arrived in was most likely to be the Captain’s bedroom. He was retracing their footsteps as quickly as possible, dragging Arthur with him.

Arthur was keeping up an almost constant stream of complaints – mostly they were explaining how this was entirely Merlin’s fault and detailing the ways he was going to kill him. As the ranting was become increasingly repetitive and incoherent, Merlin thought it was probably alright if he didn’t pay much attention.

Instead his eyes were trying to catch every detail of the... Starship? That’s what the message had called it. Even the name was incredible – a ship that could go to the stars. And it was beautiful, bright and shining, an entirely different sort of magic from the one he knew, but magic all the same.

Once they reached the room - Merlin repeating the movements he’d seen the others do so the door slid soundlessly open – Arthur sank, finally silent, into a chair.

Merlin gazed around the room; it had been too full of people before to take in. It was like the rest of the Starship – new and wonderful. Best of all was the window above them showing the stars – all those destinations – he wondered if you could see any of these stars from Camelot.

After another long moment he tore his eyes away, searched the room for a second, and then headed to another window – set into the wall and glowing blue. There were words on it, though not many of them made any sense, the pictures were more helpful.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Arthur said from the chair behind him, sounding incredibly weary.

“It’s going to be alright,” Merlin told him, not even bothering to turn around, he pressed a finger against the window experimentally, the pictures and words changed.

“How is it going to be alright? God, I’m going to kill you... No, worse – I’m going to kill everyone.”

“You’re not going to kill everyone,” the response was automatic; Merlin was still concentrating on making the pictures change.

“What? If you didn’t notice, Merlin, there’s going to be a battle tomorrow and they’re expecting me to lead them and I don’t have any idea what I’m doing. I don’t even know their names! I don’t even know what my name is supposed to be!”

Arthur seemed to be growing hysterical; fortuitously Merlin had just found exactly the right pictures. Dozens of faces were staring back at him and it looked like if he pressed the window again there would be even more. He pressed one of the faces, the black girl from earlier, and it changed again – the picture larger and joined by a name – ‘Nyota Uhura’ – and lots of other things, some of which Merlin didn’t understand.

“I think I can help with that,” he said.

* * * * *

“I can’t believe there’s not a single mirror in this room,” Kirk said. When he’d been changing his clothes, he’d found a crown – which was too ridiculously awesome – and he wanted to see how it looked on. Well, he wanted to see how he looked generally – the crown was just a handy excuse.

Annoyingly Spock wasn’t looking impressed, of course, with Spock it was always difficult to tell.

“I’m not sure the crown is an entirely necessary accessory – current historical theory suggests they would only have been worn during ceremonial events.”

“Right, well when we’re next on Vulcan I’ll be happy to subscribe to your handy fashion tips and tricks but right now...”

There was a cough from the doorway, although later Kirk couldn’t have been sure if there had actually been a noise or if he’d felt the power of the glare. Still when he turned, there was gorgeous dark haired girl in a revealing dress wearing an expression of superior bemusement.

Her eyes brushed over his crown with an expression that suggested Spock was right. He didn’t care. They were just jealous they didn’t have crowns – or probably didn’t have crowns.

“When you’ve quite finished discussing your wardrobe,” she said. “Uther is waiting for you.”

Kirk decided to take a stab in the dark. “Guinevere,” he said welcomingly.

Damn. Apparently wrong again. Her face had turned immediately to concern.

“What? Is she alright?”

“She... she told us he wanted to see us,” he tried. Her face relaxed again.

“Then I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to get there – he’s really not impressed.”

“Right, yeah – well, ready now. Why don’t you lead the way?”

She shot him a puzzled look but turned to leave the room anyway. Spock gave him one of those expressionless looks which should probably have pages written about it in the Star Fleet rule book under the heading ‘insubordination’ and then they both followed her.

Kirk wasn’t worried. He was excited. He’d never had a father figure before – well, that wasn’t technically true, there had been more than one so-called father figure – but he’d never had one who actually liked him. And this was the King as well. He could barely contain the feeling of glee.

They walked in silence, emerging at last into a large stone room – a long table took up most of the centre, topped by a chair that spoke of nothing short of absolute power. It was the sort of chair Kirk liked. The sort of chair he wanted.

A stern looking, grey haired man was sat upon it – managing with nothing more than the strength of his eyes and his stance to be far more impressive than the room itself. Kirk adored him immediately.

As they entered, Uther rose to his feet, his eyes piercing as he moved towards them. A grin settled comfortably on Kirk’s face and as his new father reached him, he slapped his arm hard, letting his hand grip it – with a sense of togetherness and familiarity. It was the sort of thing he used on the crew – they loved it – well, sometimes they winced – but deep down he knew how they really felt.

This time, however, almost as soon as he’d done it, he knew it was the wrong decision. The room itself seemed to draw in a sharp breath as the temperature plummeted around him. Uther’s eyes travelled slowly and furiously to where his hand was sat. He pulled it away quickly, deciding that perhaps first impressions could be wrong.

“Where have you been all day?” Uther snapped at him.

“I...” Kirk’s mind was blank and then he had a sudden image of the beast, flag wrapped around its jaw, “... hunting,” he suggested.

“Hunting?” Uther snarled. “When you were supposed to be destroying the rebels - protecting my kingdom. Why do you always insist upon disappointing me?”

Kirk felt the ground trembling beneath him, threatening to disappear entirely. His eyes sought Spock, looking for an anchor. It worked. Though mostly because, Vulcan or not, Spock looked amused. Annoyance was always a fantastic cure for doubts and fear.

“Thankfully not everyone has been as lax in their duties as you. A magician, operating in secret from within my walls was discovered this morning,” the words were given a deadly emphasis and Uther’s eyes laid the blame firmly at Kirk’s feet. Which seemed a little unfair, he’d only just got here and had sod all idea about what was going on. “He has revealed the location of the rebel’s base. He will be executed in the morning and then-”

“Excuse me, Sire. Would it not make more sense to make use of the magician’s skills against these rebels?” Spock asked.

If the temperature in the room had been glacial before then they were now well into the next ice age. Uther spared Spock one glance and then turned back to Kirk.

“If your servant speaks to me again I will have him executed as well.”

Hah! - Kirk thought seeing Spock’s briefly startled expression– see how you like it.

“Don’t worry I’ll do it for you.” He assured him jokingly but Uther’s glower didn’t lessen.

“Following the execution,” he continued. “I expect you to ride to the rebels’ stronghold and destroy it, completely. I will not be disappointed again.”

Don’t worry – Kirk thought grimly – you won’t be. If there was one thing he was good at, it was fighting. He’d show him.

“Get out of my sight,” Uther snapped.

As Kirk turned to leave, Spock close on his heels, he caught the girl’s eye – softer now, sympathetic. Promising. Kirk might have winked at her but the blood was still pounding in his ears.

Thankfully Spock waited until after they were back in the room and Kirk had flung the crown against the wall, probably denting it, to say anything. “This could be a problem,” he suggested.

“It’s going to be fantastic,” Kirk said through gritted teeth.

There was a long pause as Spock, apparently, recollected his thoughts.

“I think you may have missed some of the finer points-" he started, but Kirk wasn’t in the mood to listen.

“You said we’d have to face a test to get out of here – well, this looks like one to me – I go in, destroy the camp and we go back to the Enterprise. Fan-tast-tic.”

“I... Have you ever fought with a sword?” Spock asked. “Have you ever even touched a sword?”

* * * *

Arthur stared at the screen in annoyance. ‘Screen’ – the name still felt odd in his head – but at least he was learning. He’d even thought he’d managed to learn most of the crews’ names... well most might be an exaggeration – there were hundreds of them. But he probably knew enough now to get by.

In a horrible way that made it worse – before they’d just been nameless faces relying on him – now they were real people who he was going to disappoint, probably going to destroy. He was trying not to think about it.

He was also trying not to think about the man he’d become. He’d read James T. Kirk’s file, had seen hints of the man he was and if he had ended up in Camelot he was dreading what he’d have done by the time Arthur managed to get back. If he got back.

What was annoying him was that he needed more information than just names – he needed to know what a captain did, what orders to give, how to win battles in this world - and he couldn’t find it, didn’t know where to look. Well, that was the thing that should have been annoying him and it was – but what was most annoying was that it was Merlin who had learnt how to use the screens and the doors and everything else – as if he could magically fit into this place.

He’d disappeared a while ago saying he had a plan. That was probably a bad sign.

Arthur sighed again and pressed another button on the screen but still couldn’t find what he was looking for. His eyes were aching from the brightness, his head spinning and the unsettled, nauseous feeling he’d had in his stomach since he arrived still wouldn’t leave him alone. Mostly what he wanted was a book. Something he could sit and flick through – preferably with pictures and diagrams.

The door slid open with a soft foreign sigh behind him and he turned expecting to see Merlin. Hopefully with answers and ideas. Instead a girl was lounging in the doorway.

She was green.

Arthur managed to swallow his initial shock; he’d seen her picture in the files had already tried to prepare himself for seeing her. It was alright. As he tried to think of her name, his mind went blank. Gaila he suddenly thought, Gaila... but her last name would not come.

She smiled at him, the grin spreading warmly and infectiously across her face. “Everyone’s saying you’re not feeling well, maybe I could help you feel better.”

Arthur’s initial reaction was panic as his mind raced through how he could get rid of her graciously but then it was as if his thoughts paused – perhaps she could help him. She moved into the room, letting the door slide shut unnaturally behind her and walked to wards him slowly.

“Do you have any books?” He asked, the words bursting out uncontrolled.

She hesitated. “Well that wasn’t what I was expecting. Oh well, I think Nyota’s got some and she’s not in her room at the moment.”

* * * * *

Kirk was already feeling better, tomorrow would be fine – he’d sweep in, save the day and everyone would love him and then Uther could laugh on the other side of his face. But Spock was fussing and he wanted to relax so he’d decided to go and find the girl from earlier, who was apparently called Morgana. According to Spock that was a bit odd for some reason, but who cared. Also apparently she was sort of his sister, but not – so that was alright too.

Thankfully finding her wasn’t too hard. She was sat at her dressing table, the girl who had given them the message earlier brushing her hair – gentle fingers running through the long black curls, untangling them. They were talking in low, comfortable voices.

And in front of them, finally, was a mirror. Kirk took a second to scrutinise himself carefully. Definitely a step down, but it could have been worse. Arthur was even sort of attractive from the right angles. All for the better.

The talking had stopped; the maid had turned to look at him with a slight confused smile, while Morgana was watching him in the mirror – her expression unreadable – one eyebrow arched. She reminded him of someone.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” She suggested.

“I was bored.” No response. “Sp... Merlin was annoying me.” He added and wondered if he should give the maid a hint to leave.

“You’d be lost without him,” the maid replied. Which seemed a little over familiar for a servant. Oh well, she was pretty too and a threesome could work.

“I thought maybe you could entertain me,” he suggested – trying his best subtly to find a seductive expression on this new face in the mirror. Morgana finally turned around.

“What sort of entertainment were you thinking of?”

“Well, I thought we could just see what inspiration comes to us,” he replied with a wink. This was looking interesting.

The maid gave him an odd look, while one of Morgana’s eyebrows raised, then she smiled at him.

“What sort of inspiration were you thinking of?”

“Something stimulating.”

“Well you have always said you found training the knights stimulating,” she suggested.

“I think they’re busy right now.”

“Or getting Merlin to rearrange your room – you told me that was always stimulating.”

“Like I said, he’s annoying me.”

“I always thought that was rather the point.” She stood quickly, coming closer to him, his heart quickening as she gently pressed a hand to his forehead, stroking his hair out of the way. His own hand reached for her hip, but before it could reach its destination she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re feeling well, Arthur. You don’t seem yourself. I know who could help you, who could provide inspiration...”

“Yes,” he prompted, wanting to kiss her.

“Gaius.”

Her tone was innocent, but Kirk had the feeling she was laughing at him and by the mirror the maid stifled a laugh. With a sudden epiphany, Kirk realised who she reminded him of – it was Spock, but evil – this was never going to work.

* * * * *

Merlin wasn’t sure if had found the kitchens or was rooting through some sort of weird indoor garden, but at least he’d found most of the things he wanted – or things similar to them at any rate. With any luck he’d be able to get them back before Arthur had to fight any battles. He was currently studying a small dark green plant with white flowers that looked slightly familiar.

“I’ve been looking for you,” someone said behind him.

He turned. It was Nyota Uhura. She was smiling at him. He got quickly to his feet, still holding the flower and grinner at her. She looked surprised for a second and then concerned.

“I was worried about you,” she said and paused, giving Merlin a chance to speak, he didn’t know what to say, so didn’t say anything. “What are you doing here?”

He held out the flower to her.

“Do you think this looks like Bloodroot?” He asked.

“I... I have no idea. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he told her, trying to convey happiness and well being with every inch of his body. “I just needed a rest earlier, that’s all. I’m great now.”

She took a step back, frowned as if she were making a decision and then took two steps forward, pressing their bodies together and taking his face in both her hands.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. “What happened? You can tell me.”

Merlin was too stunned to answer, thoughts and ideas and words fleeing from him. From the warmth of her body against his. She looked sad. Sad and worried. Leaning forward, she pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

It was... god, it was good. The kiss deepened, lengthened, and became several kisses. Her hands slid down to his chest and then to his waist. Firm and comfortable. This was obviously familiar for her. His heart rate quickened, his blood rushing and his whole body seeming to tighten. And suddenly, in a corner, of his mind he realised how strange this was.

He had always hoped that his first sexual experience would happen whilst he was in his own body (although presumed might have been a more accurate word) and preferably with Morgana... or Arthur, though he was still trying not to look at that thought too deeply. None of this was right. And it wasn’t right for her either – he wasn’t who she thought he was. He pulled away sharply.

“I have to go,” he fled the room before she could argue.

* * * * *

Arthur was surrounded by books – which was good – books on tactics and on the ships and on what orders to give – which was better. He had even half convinced himself, that he might be able to bluff his way through all this. And he’d found a red jacket in the wardrobe, once he’d finally worked out how to open it with Gaila’s help, which was almost like his own.

He felt calmer, more settled. They were probably still all doomed and he was still exhausted and felt sick but he was doing what he could – it felt better than being entirely helpless.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Arthur was still considering whether he could pretend that he was asleep and hadn’t heard when the door slid open to reveal a man carrying a heavy case. He was still placing the face when the man spoke.

“Good grief. Is that your cadet uniform?” He stormed into the room, setting the bag onto the table. “And those are actually books – I thought Gaila might have been wrong but clearly you have lost your mind.”

He finally found the face and the name in his memory.

“Doctor McCoy,” he said out loud in relief at having remembered it. The man turned to him quickly, one eyebrow shooting up.

“Dammit, Jim, what the hell’s going on?”

‘Jim’ Arthur noted, clearly they were supposed to be less formal. He searched through his mind again.

“Sorry... Leonard,” he tried, unable to keep the hesitation and doubt out of his voice. Suddenly McCoy was upon him. One of his hands pressed to Arthur’s forehead, the other waving a strange little box in the general direction of his body.

“I’d say you were having a mid-life crisis,” he was saying, “but that would mean you were going to die in your forties. Of course, given your lifestyle you probably won’t last that long.”

He stepped back, leaving Arthur feeling slightly stunned, and glared at the box in his hand. The frown deepened and then he looked up at him with growing suspicion. “What is this? Apparently, you’re suffering from space sickness. You don’t suffer from space sickness.”

He was starting to look dangerous.

“I... I think it’s something I ate when...” Arthur waved his hand uncertainly.

“Dammit, I told you not to eat anything on that godforsaken rock.” He turned away for a second and then turning back, lurched towards him again. This time Arthur was ready and he saw the glint of silver in McCoy’s hand. He hadn’t believed him, he was going to stab him.

He reacted instinctively, the strange body not quite meeting his expectations but good enough for this and in seconds the silver thing had flown across the room and rolled under the bed. He seized McCoy’s wrists firmly and forced him against the wall.

“What the hell’s going on?” McCoy yelled. “It was just a damn sedative, you need to rest.”

“Sorry... sorry...” Arthur let go, stepping back. There was still too much to do. Too much to read. “I don’t need to rest, I need... do you have anything that can keep me awake.”

“You’re really mad if you think I’m going to give you any adrenaline when you’re in this state.”

With a feeling of despair, Arthur grabbed his wrist again. “Please,” he begged.

There was a long uncertain pause and then McCoy sighed.

“Dammit, Jim.”

* * * * *

Spock reigned his horse closer to Kirk’s, much to the latter’s annoyance. Perhaps his own horse had some sort of sixth sense that it was not his normal rider on his back, but whatever it was it was proving truculent and unreliable. It didn’t help that he’d never ridden a horse before – only the bike and at least he’d usually been able to guess when it was about to do something unexpected.

“I’m really not certain that this is a wise idea,” Spock said in a low voice so the knights strung out on the horses behind them wouldn’t hear.

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s going to be fine? I mean, how hard can it be, we’re surrounded by highly trained knights – all I’m going to have to do is say a few heroic, inspiring words and then they’ll rush in and surround me and I’ll be as safe as... as...” he’d been about to say ‘Uhura’s virginity’ – something he’d coined in the Academy, but given the current company it was probably not the best idea.

“Have you prepared any?” Spock asked, sparing him from having to invent a new end to the sentence.

“Any what?”

“Heroic and inspiring words.”

“Nah,” Kirk said, pulling his horses head away from a tempting clump of grass. “You can’t practice before hand, then it’s not real. They’ll just come to me. Do you remember what I said last time we fought the Klingons?”

“If I recall correctly, you said – ‘Papa, needs a brand new shirt’ – I was not certain at the time of the implications of the statement.”

“While it worked, didn’t it – we won.”

“Any corollary between your statement and the outcome of the battle is-”

Kirk didn’t get to find out exactly what Spock thought the corollary between the two things was as they rounded the corner and found an ambush laid out around them. Apparently the magician had been stronger than Uther thought. Kirk leapt from the horse as the first three arrows sailed inches past him, using it for a moment to shield him from the attackers. He could see more of them emerging, swords drawn.

Around him the other knights were dismounting, though one had fallen, arrow in his chest, foot still caught in his stirrups. They hadn’t even put on their full armour yet, just chainmail. He’d thought they had over an hour left before they’d even need to start being quiet.

They fell back, trying to put some distance between them and the rebels, leaving the horses to block the path – but still able to hear the sounds of desperate pursuit.

Kirk caught hold of Spock as they moved. “Can you deal with the archers?”

A short, sharp nod and he was gone – moving silently and swiftly away from them.

At last they reached an open clearing, it was the best they were likely to do – at least nobody could sneak up on them without them seeing – as long as Spock didn’t let any of the archers escape.

Kirk stopped and pulled the sword from its sheath with some difficulty. The other knights, stopped for a moment and then followed his lead. Standing together, ranged for the fight – like an array of well armed Star Ships. Kirk felt a thrill of excitement.

They could hear the rebels getting closer. Not much time to think of heroic words now. Oh well. “Let’s get them!” Kirk roared as the first of the enemy burst from amongst the trees.

He stood, sword at the ready, waiting for the knights to rush past him and realised, in a blind moment of panic that they had fallen back – leaving him alone.

“Wait-” he started but the lead man was upon him, he just managed to block his sword thrust – the shock jarring up his arm painfully – like a fire blazing a path, leaving only numbness in its wake. He managed to spin out of the way of the second blow, half sliding, half rolling along the ground – only rising to his feet when he was several feet away, the sword still clutched heavy and useless in his hand.

The other man turned in his direction with a snarl and the knights still didn’t rush in to his rescue.

“Fuck it,” Kirk swore, straightened up and flung the sword aside. Fine, he thought, I’ll do it my way.

* * * * *

Thankfully, Merlin didn’t return until after McCoy had left. The doctor had insisted upon staying with Arthur after he’d administered an ‘adrenalin’ shot – whatever that was – he’d said he needed to monitor him. In some ways it had been useful, he’d picked up the training where Gaila had left it but it was exhausting to keep up the charade. At least he had managed to convince him that he was still James T. Kirk – instead he now thought that whatever he and Spock had eaten had created problems with their minds – hence all the studying.

He’d even given him another, painful, injection of memory stimulant, Arthur only hoped it would work.

After McCoy had eventually left, Arthur had scrambled for a moment underneath his bed and finally emerged with the sedative that he’d knocked from the doctor’s hand and then, standing beside the door, he waited.

Time stretched, playing on his exhausted nerves – the dullness a counterpoint to his pounding blood. After a while he’d started to wonder if Merlin would return at all, but at last the door slid open and Merlin practically skipped into the room, his arms full of plants.

“I’ve found-” he started as Arthur plunged the sedative into his neck and then yanked it loose again. Merlin spun, his eyes wide, tinted just for a second with gold. “What are you-” he said and then his eyelids fluttered shut and he began to fall.

Arthur just caught him, laying him down on the bed, wishing it hadn’t been necessary, but he’d read in the files what Commander Spock did – he couldn’t risk having someone on the bridge who didn’t know how to do the job.

“Approaching destination. Battle stations.” A voice said over the communicators. Arthur stood for a second in the room, fists clenched, then straightening the horrid yellow shirt, he turned and began towards the Bridge.

Relieved eyes greeted his arrival, his heart seemed to beat slower for a second but he didn’t let his feet hesitate – he couldn’t let the fear of failure stop him. His eyes found the spot where Merlin should have been stood – the man there was stepping aside.

“Retain your position, Mr Decker, Commander Spock is still unwell.” He felt the flurry of unease around him, but refused to look at it – sinking into the Captain’s chair instead, his hands wrapping around its arms tightly – trying to steady himself.

“Preparing to disable warp drive, Captain,” Chekhov said.

This felt wrong, he was used to throwing himself into battle like a shield between the enemy and his men, now he couldn’t do that – they would all be flung in together. He felt like he was dragging them to their doom.

“Very good.” He said.

This was it.

Space opened, blooming like a flower around them. An image of hell. Stars and ships and fire blurring together and above it all a huge ball of flame twisted sickeningly. That must be what the sun looked like when you were too close.

“Enemy sighted. They are targeting us, Captain.”

“Increase Deflector Shields – 92%,” he said the words tight and dry in his throat. “Evasive Pattern Delta Six.”

The crew moved and beneath him the ship shifted.

* * * * *

It did not prove difficult for Spock to locate the archers amidst the confusion caused by the horses, whom the rebels seemed loathe to hurt, presumably as they saw a potential use for them in the future. Disabling them was also untroublesome as they proved susceptible to the Vulcan nerve pinch and collapsed silently and powerlessly to the ground.

Once the task was complete, he turned back and traced the others footsteps to where the fight was occurring. He arrived just in time to see Kirk fling his sword aside. Spock noted the look of surprise and concern racing across the faces of the knights who appeared to be holding back.

Kirk rushed towards a man with his bare fists and one sank uselessly into the man’s chain mailed stomach. The man hit Kirk in the face with the hilt of his sword and Kirk fell arched backwards surrounded by a spray of blood, falling to the floor.

As the man abandoned his own sword and began to beat him, the knights seemed to come alive rushing into the fray – greeted by the rebels.

With a quickly suppressed sigh, Spock supposed he should go and rescue the captain.

* * * * *

Two of the enemy ships were destroyed, but there were still too many left and even with the arrival of other allies Arthur was not convinced they could win. But his death grip on the chair arms had relaxed and, though his heart was still racing, it was from excitement now not fear. Wrong as it may be he was almost enjoying this.

Enjoying the sense that they were all moving as one, following his orders. He was so used to Merlin’s disobedience he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Warbird on our tail, Captain,” someone said.

The thought crossed Arthur’s mind that at least that name made sense – these weren’t ships, they didn’t sail across the stars they sailed within them – like birds. That was what was so hard, he’d never fought an enemy before who could appear beneath him or above him or anywhere. He didn’t know what tactics to use, how to fight them.

When he was young, before he’d handled a sword, Arthur had dreamt about being a bird, soaring free through the air – they were just vague memories now, long since half forgotten. After all the dreams had soon stopped, his father had come to him face serious, training sword in his hand and his life had changed. His dreams replaced for someone else’s.

Now though, he could feel those dreams again – despite the differences and they were too many to even count – this felt like those dreams. Or other dreams perhaps the ones that came between those dreams and his new dreams, when he was still half a child – just being shaped into a warrior. He’d dreamt he was a hawk – one of the hunting birds of Camelot. Proud and strong and deadly.

He could see them now, their glossy feathers and hooded heads - he could see how they would fly between the sun and their prey so they could not be seen and plunge furiously downwards. It was enough. It was an idea.

His mind struggled for a second to find the right words, whatever McCoy had given him to help his memory was ebbing away. Then it came to him.

“L-4 Manoeuvre, Mr Sulu,” he said quickly, the move should loop them round so they were back behind the Warbird, “Position us between the Warbird and the sun. Ready weapons.”

As they moved gracefully into position, Arthur saw in the distance another enemy ship blown into oblivion – making this the last. For a moment, at least, they should be hidden by the glaring light.

Arthur waited, judging the moment. “Fire at will!”

The enemy ship exploded. Arthur felt a surge of joy rush through him – they’d won- he wasn’t even dirty or hurt – it felt exhilarating. And mixed with the exhilaration was fear and anger and grief and guilt that you could kill so many people so easily. Too many emotions, all fighting against each other – for a moment he thought he might cry or scream – and then it was washed away, buried. Leaving him feel numb.

He wanted just to sit there and do nothing. But he was a leader, he needed to... to say something. He forced himself to his feet.

“I’m... I’m very proud of what we achieved here,” he wasn’t used to this, he should be but he wasn’t. Instead he thought of things he’d heard his father say to others deep in the past before the sickness of his fear had spread and lingered, things he’d imagined hearing himself.

“No, what you achieved,” he corrected, feeling more certain. “I may be the one sat in this chair but every one of you is more important than me – more vital than me and this victory belongs to you.”

The crew seemed slightly confused, he saw more than one quickly exchanged glance, but he saw more than one smile as well. McCoy was stood nearby, his face furrowed with doubt and concern.

“I salute you,” he said and realised he’d run out of words. He was saved the need to find any more as the lift door opened and Merlin staggered into the room.

“I...” he said incoherently, “You....” His eyes settled on the scene of destruction beyond the window and his face split into a grin. “You won.” He looked as if he might dance.

Arthur saw McCoy exchange a look with Lieutenant Uhura – the sort of look that mutual enemies suddenly thrown onto the same side might exchange – a look that said ‘something is very wrong and perhaps just for once, my enemy is also your enemy’. If the chair hadn’t been behind him, Arthur might have stepped backwards.

“Alright,” McCoy said, “What the hell have you done with Jim and the pointy eared bastard?”

* * * * *

Gaius was tending to Kirk’s wounds, Spock had elected to wait outside. He had come to the conclusion that Gaius and Merlin shared a close bond and without more accurate knowledge of this place and of Merlin himself he was reluctant to come under familial scrutiny.

Especially as so many of the things that humans believed about Merlin appeared to be wrong, but then human mythology had always lacked the power of the Katric Arc to remember their cultural heritage. Even simple things like Merlin being a great scholar seem to have been misplaced given Gaius’ bemused reaction to finding Spock working his way through several of his books.

He had been hoping to find clues within the works that might at least help him to confirm that their location, even if they did not suggest a means of escape, particularly since destroying the rebels did not seem to have helped. So far he had had no luck. Though that might have been due to the limited nature of his reading materials. Currently he was working his way through a book of medicinal herbs. At least it was quite fascinating, if frequently entirely incorrect.

Spock was so absorbed in the work that he did not for a moment here the sound of twin approaching footsteps. Looking up he saw the Lady Morgana and her maid, Gwen, approaching. Putting the book reluctantly aside he rose to his feet to greet them.

“Merlin,” Gwen said, her voice tinged with relief, “Is Arthur going to be alright?”

“His wounds were not serious,” Spock told her, “And Gaius is a reasonable medic, there is no reason to believe that he will not make a full recovery.”

“Oh, I...” Gwen started but seemed to be uncertain of what she wanted to say next. Morgana was watching him, her eyes calculating.

“The Knights said it was a terrible fight,” she said, “That they had never seen Arthur beaten so badly before. He hasn’t seemed himself since yesterday.”

Spock was not certain of her meaning, there seemed to be other meanings hidden obscurely underneath the words. She was watching him for some sort of response. It seemed to be a different sort of test and Spock wasn’t sure of the correct answer. Neither the fight or the outcome had seemed particularly bad to him – but then he’d seen Kirk get into fights before. He was always mostly impressed that he emerged alive at all.

“The fight was satisfactory,” he suggested.

An edge of concern emerged in Morgana’s expression and she exchanged a glance with Gwen.

“Are you alright? Did anything happen?” She suddenly asked. “When you were gone, did you see anybody or anything?”

Ah. This could cause complications.

“Nothing happened,” he tried to reassure her. “The Prince was merely worried about the coming fight, now that the danger is removed he will surely return to his normal character. It would be illogical for you to concern yourself.”

It clearly hadn’t been the right thing to say, her expression deepened and darkened and Spock sensed there could be more difficulties ahead.

“Perhaps we should talk to Gaius,” Morgana said.

* * * * *

It was hours before Arthur returned to Kirk’s chambers – sore and aching and with a similarly miserable Merlin by his side. They had been taken to the medical bay and poked and prodded and scanned and injected – it had made Gaius administrations seem as gentle as a kittens in comparison – until at last McCoy had confirmed that there was nothing physically wrong with them except for some slightly different brain patterns, whatever that meant.

At any rate, Arthur had been removed from the Captaincy and was to remain under observation in his room. This morning that might have been a relief – now he found himself oddly bereft.

He flung himself onto the bed, hands clutching his head – this was some sort of insane nightmare.

And they were watching him, the thought made his skin itch, that from wherever they were they could see what he was doing. It was bad enough that they’d been able to use all those machines to see inside him and now this – how long would it be before they worked out how to see what you were thinking? It felt like being chained, captive.

Merlin barely let him wallow for a minute. Bastard. Arthur enjoyed the wallowing. But then Merlin could never resist talking, even when he shouldn’t – especially when he shouldn’t.

“So...” he said slowly, “Do you want to hear my incredible plan to get us out of here?”

There was a long pause.

“You have a plan?” Arthur said, not bothering to raise himself from the bed. “You have a plan?”

“Of course... wait you sound surprised?” Merlin actually sounded hurt.

“You’re really surprised I’m surprised?”

It was a moment before Merlin answered.

“Well, by my reckoning,” he said, “I’m nearly always the one who comes up with the plans.”

Arthur laughed his derision. “You come up with half of them at the most.”

“Alright – I mean Morgana comes up with some as well and Gwen... I suppose I only come up with the other half.”

Arthur’s fist curled around the pillow, he didn’t even look up before flinging it at Merlin. There was a soft umph of annoyance, it was momentarily satisfying and then Arthur realised that now he didn’t even have a pillow. He was uncomfortable and annoyed and now he couldn’t even smother himself to avoid having to listen to Merlin’s plan. Still, he didn’t have to go gracefully.

“No, you’re right. Sorry. I remember now – you come up with the plans that don’t work, that get us in to trouble – that end with us in some godforsaken place, in the wrong godforsaken bodies with no godforsaken idea of what is going on.”

This time the silence was longer – it was a brooding, annoyed silence – it was the sort of silence that huddled, snarling in a dark wood waiting for someone with a sword to come along that it could leap upon.

Arthur matched it for as long as he could but he’d never been good at patience – he didn’t like to wait for a fight.

“So,” he said at last, “Are you going to tell me this incredible plan?”

“I didn’t think you wanted to hear it.”

Arthur groaned. Merlin was clearly in one of his sulks – thankfully, when you came down to it, Merlin was like a puppy. It you gave him even the slightest encouragement, he’d switch back to enthusiastic eagerness in a second – all lolling tongue and wagging tail.

“Don’t make me apologise,” Arthur moaned. “You know I’m rubbish at it. You’re miserable, I’m miserable and you know what I do when I’m miserable...”

“You make me miserable,” Merlin said, a hint of a smile evident in the tone of his voice.

“So...” Arthur prompted again.

“Alright. It took a while, but I found all the herbs we’d need for this spell, or at least herbs like the herbs we’d need and I think it could...”

This time Arthur pushed himself back into a seated position, his stare of horror making Merlin trail off.

“You can still do magic?” He asked. “You can still do magic and you didn’t think to tell me or try to get us out of here until now. Do you know what I went through this morning?

“Well you knocked me out before I could tell you anything,” Merlin retorted and then continued talking before Arthur could say anything. “Anyway I can’t exactly do magic, I mean not like normal, not in this body – every now and then I sort of feel it but I can’t get to it, like that feeling when you see something out of the corner of your eye but as soon as you try to see what it is it’s gone.”

“You did that weird light thing when we arrived,” Arthur pointed out.

“That was before I knew I was in the wrong body.”

“That... but... I mean... Merlin, that makes no sense.”

Merlin gave him a blank look. “It’s magic. When did it start making sense?”

“Right.”

“Anyway there are other sorts of magic, like potions, and I think there’s a potion that might work.”

Arthur hesitated, magic, while occasionally helpful, did tend to get them into more trouble.
Groaning again, he saw another flash of hurt and anger on Merlin’s face. “Alright.”

Before he exactly knew what was happening, Merlin had leaped from the seat, grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the closet. Which, Arthur noted with annoyance he opened first time, without any difficulty. The door slid shut behind them.

“If this is an integral part of the incredible plan then I might be having second thoughts. Is there any reason we have to be in a cupboard?”

“ Well... this is where we appeared, it might help. Plus I’m hoping they can’t watch us in here, I’d rather they didn’t see what we were doing.”

“Oh yes, because them imagining what we might be doing together, alone, in a cupboard is so much better.” Arthur shifted irritably, pushing some clothes out of his way and his foot hit something metallic with a clang.

“Careful.”

“Is that a cauldron?” He asked in growing horror.

“Sort of... look, it’s a bucket but I couldn’t find a cauldron and I don’t think it will make much difference. It’s just for heating the herbs anyway...”

“Heating?” Arthur asked faintly. “Merlin, you can’t set a fire in here. We are surrounded by clothes. We’ll die.”

In the dim light, Arthur saw Merlin grin. He held up something sort of square and shiny. “I found this in their kitchens,” he said full of excitement. “It heats things up.”

Arthur could tell that he clearly wanted him to be excited or impressed, but, like whenever Merlin was about to perform magic, all Arthur felt was frightened. He hated being frightened and he hated having to put his life into others hands... but there was nothing else he could do. And this was Merlin. He should be able to trust Merlin by now, but his heart still beat painfully in his chest every time he thought about it. Perhaps it was just that his father’s habits were hard to break.

He gritted his teeth.

“This better work.”

* * * * *

Kirk resisted the urge to reach up and touch his split lip. It stung, but it was more because he expected it to than he could actually feel it. It was difficult to feel anything that specific when the entire left side of his face was throbbing with agony.

Despite his protests the old man, Gaius, had slathered something sticky, smelly and green over the bruises which had made them sort of numb. Though possibly it’s smell had just distracted him from the pain. Then they’d been told that Uther wanted to see him and he’d had to wipe it off and now all Kirk wanted was to have the foul stuff back again.

At least then he could have pretended that the angry, disappointed look on Uther’s face was because of the stench. Instead he’d had to listen to a lecture about how important it was for him to set a good example to his knights.

Kirk felt like pointing out to him that anyone setting a good example could maybe start by not training the knights to stand back and watch him do all the fighting. But before he had a chance to do anything, Uther turned and swept from the room, leaving him alone with Spock.

Another conversation he wasn’t looking forward to.

“I would hope,” Spock said in even tones, “That today’s events have taught you the value of being properly prepared before action is taken.”

“I thought hope was one of those dirty human emotions.”

“It can be when followed blindly but it is possible to experience hope and faith without being compromised by them or blinded by them.”

Kirk tensed, he was hurt and angry and Spock was being clever at him and he wanted to lash out, but that never went well. He spun around to face him anyway, squaring up to him, trying to ignore the fact that the Vulcan was slightly taller than him even in this form - the thought enraged him.

“I would remind you to call me Captain,” he said, enunciating every word.

Muscles tightened in Spock’s cheek, the slightest movement but visible. Whatever he pretended, he was experiencing emotion. The thought gave Kirk a thrill of joy, a small sense of victory. That was all he really wanted – not the fight – but the knowledge that he could still get to him, one way or another.

“Considering our current situation it would be unwise for me to refer to you by that name,” Spock said and then added. “Sire.”

Kirk was still considering the best thing to say next to provoke a new reaction when something seemed to change. It was as if Spock’s face had become unfocused, blurred for a moment. Perhaps it was his injuries or the anger.

The face settled again, becoming sharper and broke into a wide, openly happy grin. He laughed excitedly.

So this must be Merlin.

“I told you I’d get us back,” Merlin said.

“Yeah,” Kirk told him. “Not so much us.”

* * * * *

The potion failed. It didn’t even manage to do it spectacularly, it just sort of bubbled, farted slightly and settled into an odd green sludge, which smelled noxious. Arthur stared at it with growing annoyance, willing it to at least do something.

“You know, Merlin,” he said, eyes still fixed on the cauldron-bucket, feeling the rant building inside him, “When I found out that you could do magic I thought maybe, just maybe that you might finally be good at something. I’m increasingly convinced that I was being overly optimistic. I don’t know why I ever thought this was going to end differently, you couldn’t get us to the other side of the Forest of Arden, let alone get either of us home.”

“It would seem,” Merlin replied, his voice steady, “That your opinion is incorrect.”

Arthur looked up at him. The light was dim but he could see him. The face was almost frozen, unmoving – the expression clever – Arthur felt like he was being read, inside and out. Every trace of Merlin was gone. He’d read the files – this had to be Spock. He felt suddenly irrationally thankful that he had never seen this man trapped inside Merlin’s body, it would have been like seeing Merlin dead. And he couldn’t. Not that.

The world seemed to tilt beneath him.

“Whatever you were attempting here,” Spock gave Merlin’s cauldron an interested glance, “It at least appears that he has managed to return himself and me to our correct bodies. So now it is merely remains for us to do the same for you.”

Arthur’s mind was blank, he didn’t know what to say.

“Have you informed the crew of our difficulties, their input could be instructive.”

“I...” Arthur started, “I...” Of course he hadn’t told the crew, they wouldn’t have believed him and he hadn’t know how they’d react. His arguments stacked up for him, but they felt unsteady under the cold scrutiny.

Before an answer or an argument could form, could gather on his tongue, the door to the cupboard slid open with a whoosh – allowing light to spill inside across them both. The crew were stood outside, faces concerned, peering in.

For a second Arthur thought he saw a smile on Spock’s lips but then the face was the same as ever and it was impossible to imagine it had ever moved. “Good,” he said. “This will save us time.”

* * * * *

Merlin’s first thought was that Arthur looked terrible, like he’d been hit by a
Star Ship. But then this wasn’t Arthur. Neither seemed sure of what to say first. It was a strangely awkward moment.

They were still staring at each other, when the door opened and Morgana burst in, dress swirling around her, face fierce and sword in hand. She was flanked by Gwen and Gaius and a couple of nervous looking knights.

“I don’t know what you’ve done with Arthur and Merlin,” Morgana said, eyes fixed upon them. “But you’re going to explain or let Gaius examine you or I will run you through with this sword.”

What the hell has been going on, Merlin thought as Kirk made a noise next to him that sounded something like – erk.

His second thought was that Morgana may lie and manipulate better than anyone else he’d met but she always meant her threats.

“Your choice,” she added with a slight smile.

Barely thinking, Merlin reached out and gripped Arthur’s arm, though it was not Arthur’s now, not quite. He felt the magic gathering within him, longing for release, the thrill of it and then he let it loose - pulling them away through space if not time, in a fury of wind and smoke.

As they reappeared, the shape of a tower room forming around them, Kirk gasped in a lungful of air and grinned at him. “That was awesome.”

* * * * *

Spock had almost finished explaining to the crew what had happened as Arthur sat silently trying to meet the curious stares head on. They were secluded in the briefing room, Arthur had not seen it before – so far it was his favourite room in the ship. It was still strange and unreal but there were no windows, which made it by far the least unsettling.

The room was silent for a moment after Spock finished, the crew considering what he had said. In the end it was McCoy who reacted first.

He pushed himself backwards from the table, rocking slightly in his chair and breathed out loudly. “Thank god, I was starting to think the whole universe had stopped making sense.”

“You think this makes sense?” Arthur snapped at him in surprise. “Are you mad?”

McCoy’s eyebrow quirked upwards. “You were going into the closet with Spock, I was worried you were trying to be metaphorical.”

More than one of the crew stifled a laugh. Arthur had no idea why, but before he could ask or react, Spock was speaking again.

“Given the current state of affairs, I will, of course, resume the Captain’s chair. It is vital, however, that we recover Captain Kirk as quickly as possible. Given my study of the location it is my belief that we were trapped on Earth in the early 12^th Century AD. It will be necessary for us to return to this period to find the Captain and hope that he does nothing in the meantime that will alter the course of history. Do you have any suggestions, Mr. Scott?”

There was the slightest pause. “I cannae break the laws of physics,” he replied.

“A fact which you have reminded us of three times previously, though I would also note that each pronouncement was followed by your doing just that.”

“Aye,” Scotty said with a grin. “That’s true and as it happens me and the lad,” he indicated Chekhov, “have been discussing some possibilities for time travel. It was his idea though, so he ought to be the one explaining.”

“It was only a theoretical discussion,” Chekhov hurried to add though his voice was eager and excited, “But I was thinking about the possible practical applications of your future self’s travel through the black hole-”

“A risky, unpredictable manoeuvre,” Spock interrupted, “with no guarantee of accurately reaching the desired date.”

“Yes,” Chekov agreed, “But I think it is possible for us to utilise the knowledge and technology from that journey to create a controllable...”

Arthur was lost, he felt like he’d need a map to follow this conversation but he had no idea who could draw one for him. Instead he watched them as they worked through the problem – each offering suggestions, each confident in his knowledge and opinion and place within the group.

It made his stomach shift uncomfortably. He knew that he didn’t feel that way about his father and wished he did, but worse was the fear that those around him felt the same way he did. Felt that their voices didn’t matter. Morgana had admitted to him once that if one of the knights had a disagreement they wanted him to hear, they would tell her and not him. He’d been too angry that they were going behind his back to think of what it meant. Now, seeing how the other way could work, that felt wrong.

He looked down at his hands clasped together on the table, letting the voices drift around him, longing to be back home – so he could begin to undo his mistakes.

* * * * *

Kirk was trying to explain Spock. “... it’s like I’m a cliff and he’s a hill and it’s maddening and...” Merlin stared at him, his face knotted in confusion and Kirk decided it was probably better to give it up as a lost cause. “So what’s Arthur like?”

Merlin shrugged. Maybe Arthur was as difficult as Spock.

They were sat in an abandoned room high in one of the towers that Merlin assured Kirk was never visited anymore, though how long that would last was debatable as Morgana was probably scouring the castle for them as they spoke. Still, neither of them had much idea what they should do next, so settling in for a moan seemed like a good solution until inspiration appeared.

“What makes it worse,” Kirk continued as Merlin seemed unlikely to answer, “Is that I’m stuck with the bastard – we’re supposed to be best friends forever or something – like, you know, destiny.”

Merlin laughed softly and humourlessly. Kirk glanced at him quickly and Merlin met his eyes.

“I know about destiny,” he admitted, “Somebody said the same thing about me and Arthur, that we need each other... that I need to protect him...”

“Sucks, doesn’t it,” Kirk said and Arthur smiled. “So who burdened you with a destiny? Mine was and I know this sounds kind of hard to believe, but another Spock from the future, sort of. It was a different future.”

Merlin hesitated for a second before answering. “It was a dragon.”

“It was a... fucking hell,” Kirk had to admit he was impressed. “There’s a dragon here?”

“It’s chained underneath the castle.”

“There’s a dragon chained underneath the castle? Can I meet him?”

“We’re not really talking anymore.”

There was really no part of this conversation that was making sense. Kirk wasn’t even sure where you’d start. Putting aside the fact that there was a dragon under the castle that you could talk to, let alone stop talking to there was something in the tone of Merlin’s voice that spoke of a deeper pain and having watched the crew, Kirk knew about hidden things, the most important thing was to let them loose.

“Why?” He asked.

“He was lying to me.”

Kirk could see the shape of the problem now, feel the texture of it, but perhaps it still needed to be said, even if it was just aloud in this lonely, dusty room. “And he told you about this destiny?”

“Yes.”

“And you think he was lying?”

“Yes... I don’t know.”

Kirk wondered how much he could tell him, annoyingly the official answer was probably nothing. “So why are you still with him?” He asked instead. It felt like he had to wait a long time for any response.

“Because I think he’s worth it or could be... but maybe I have to think that, because without him I’m nothing, without a destiny I don’t even matter? Because I love him.”

The last was said quietly, like it was a sentence of doom.

“Does he love you?”

Merlin swallowed hard, not looking at him. “No.”

“Because he’s interested in girls?” Kirk suggested. This was not the conversation he had ever expected to have with Merlin. It tugged at him somehow.

“No... I mean there was one girl, but she had Arthur under a spell so I’m not sure it really counts.”

Ah. Well that made everyone’s reaction earlier make a lot more sense. Still it was weird, Arthur could have had any girl he wanted - he was a prince.

“Not even Morgana?” He asked.

Merlin looked up at him sharply then. “Why?”

“Oh, err, I may have...” Kirk waved his hands meaninglessly. Merlin was still watching him, face pale and tired and sad, his lips lingered for a second on Kirk’s lips. No, Kirk corrected himself, on Arthur’s.

Without really thinking why, he reached out and took Merlin’s face in his hands and leaning in before the other boy had a chance to react, kissed him. He felt the shocked breath against his lips as Merlin almost pulled away and then he pushed against him, lips quick and rough on his own, painful for a second against his split lip.

It was not the first time that Kirk had kissed another boy, that wasn’t even something he thought about, but he supposed it was the first time he had meant anything by it, even if he wasn’t exactly sure of what he meant. But maybe this was something Merlin needed and maybe, when he couldn’t say anything else, this was the way Kirk could tell him that Arthur was worth it. Whatever would happen in the future.

Merlin sighed softly against his lips.

* * * * *

It had taken nearly a month for them to find the right time period and a little longer after that to find Camelot. Now they were hidden somewhere in the heavens and Arthur was staring down at the world below, the world that he had never even imagined, the world that was his.

He was more used to the views now – endless and beautiful and terrifying. He was almost used to the ship, after some less than gentle care at McCoy’s hands he no longer felt ill and sick at the motion of it – if he was being honest he almost liked it now, could almost imagine missing it. Almost.

But that didn’t change the fact that he missed Camelot. He missed his men and his father and Morgana and Gwen. He missed having things to do and worry about. He missed real earth and trees and the sky and wind and the feel of a horse beneath him. He missed his sword, even though Sulu had been teaching him how to use his. He missed familiar cloths and familiar quarters. And he missed Merlin.

“They have located the Captain, they are ready to transport us to the surface,” he hadn’t realised Spock was standing behind him.

Spock was strange but despite himself Arthur found that he liked him. He was intelligent and controlled and he didn’t let others opinions or expectations alter him. There were probably things he could learn from him.

Arthur nodded his understanding, his throat tight, worried about what he would find below. He followed him to the transporter room and stepped onto his place, it had been decided that only he and Spock should go to Camelot despite many crew protests, Spock considered it safest.

Scotty smiled at him and winked and despite his fear, Arthur smiled back. He liked Scotty – he liked all of them. He looked down at his feet, saying goodbye last night had been difficult, he did not want to do it again now.

“You may beam us down when you are ready, Mr Scott,” he head Spock say.

“Aye, aye Captain.”

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. It can’t be worse than magic, he thought desperately, though that was hardly reassuring. It sort of felt like the world around him was trembling, though there was no world around him – so that couldn’t be right.

After what felt like an eternity he felt solid ground beneath his feet again. Somewhere close to him he heard somebody scrabbling to their feet. He opened his eyes. It was Merlin. He was home.

Merlin’s eyes were wide and shocked, his face flushed and his expression a mix of happiness and guilt.

“Arthur?”

Arthur suppressed a smile. “Excellent powers of deduction, Merlin,” he snapped instead.

His eyes were drawn to where the man beside Merlin was now climbing to his feet, a little gingerly. The man wearing Arthur’s body – Arthur’s bloody, bruised and battered body. The urge to smile dwindled as if someone had thrown a bucket of water over a fire, instead it was replaced by a sudden surge of anger.

“What the hell have you done to my body?”

“Hey,” the other man said with a grin, “Yeah, sorry about that, there was this fight and these-”

“There was a fight? This happened in a fight?” Arthur demanded with a growing sense of horror. “Did anyone see you?”

The man looked taken aback. “Well just Spock and the knights-“

“The knights? I’m going to kill you for this,” he said to Merlin and then turned back to Spock. “Did we have a plan to get him out of my body.”

There was a slight pause and then Spock turned to Kirk in greeting. “Captain.”

Arthur realised with a frustrating jolt that he had arrived and more or less started ranting immediately – that had not been the plan. It was not who he wanted to be anymore. Still, Spock had confided him one night that it was not always easy being in control – that it was always a work in progress. Arthur had suspected that mostly he had meant when he was around Kirk.

Arthur pulled in a deep breath to steady himself as Spock turned to look at him. “I had hoped that proximity would cause your consciousness to return to its correct body. As that hope has proved to be false it would be best for us all to return to the ship to carry out further analysis.”

“Actually,” Merlin said – his voice slightly nervous, “I think I can do this.”

Another pause and Arthur had the unsettling sensation they were waiting for his response.

“It might not be wise-” Spock began.

“No,” Arthur interrupted forcefully, stealing another deep breath, “I trust Merlin, if he says he can do this then he can.”

“Good enough for me,” Kirk said with a shrug and a grin in Merlin’s direction. He came to stand in front of Arthur. “You better not have scratched my ship.”

* * * * *

Kirk was impressed. Merlin had managed to return them to the right bodies on the second try and with any luck no one was going to mention the unfortunate few minutes when Kirk was stuck in Spock’s body. He certainly was trying not to think about it or the distressing amount of new information he had gained about Spock during the experience.

He stretched luxuriously, it felt good to have his own body back, across the room Arthur gave him an annoyed glare and then winced. Kirk couldn’t help the quick burst of sympathy, nor the relief that for once he wasn’t going to be the one suffering through the healing.

Merlin and Spock seemed to be trying to make sense of each other, though each looked baffled by the other – as far as Spock ever looked baffled.

“So,” Kirk heard Merlin say, “you’re a hill?”

Kirk decided it would probably be better for everyone if he rescued him from the situation, plus there was something he wanted to say to Merlin. Gripping him by the arm, he dragged him across the room, though it wasn’t particularly far. “Just saying goodbye,” he told Spock.

He leaned in close, lips brushing Merlin’s ear, so that the others wouldn’t hear.

“He’s worth it,” he told him, “And you’re worth it. You’ll stay together and you’ll achieve things that that no one has done before – incredible things – they’ll be remembered forever, for thousands and thousands of years. That’s your destiny.”

They broke apart, Merlin staring at him in shock. Across the room Spock and Arthur were stood together, clasping each other’s shoulders – it looked oddly intimate for Spock. Merlin’s eyes travelled to them and then back to Kirk.

“Come on,” Kirk told him, “I’m better than a dragon.”

Without waiting, he strode back across to Spock, knocking his communicator back on. “Time for us to get out of here,” he said. “When you’re ready, Scotty, beam us up.”

“Aye, aye Captain.”

* * * * *

Arthur watched as they vanished, white light spiralling around them. Leaving him alone with Merlin in the dusty room. He wasn’t sure what to say, it felt like he should be praising him – but this was Merlin and that would have been strange.

“So, I...” he started, but thankfully was spared from speaking further by a pounding on the door.

“Err...” Merlin said beside him.

“Exactly how bad is it?” Arthur asked trying to keep his voice even.

“I think you may have tried to... to... with Morgana.”

The door burst open and Morgana burst in, sword in hand, followed by Gwen.

“This is for your own good,” Morgana told them. “Possibly.”

“Hopefully,” Gwen added, doubt lacing through her voice.

Arthur turned to Merlin with a glare. “I’m going to kill you.”

* * * * *

Kirk could feel the Enterprise humming gently beneath his feet. God it was good to be back. He stretched again and felt one of the cadets’ eyes on him. Definitely good.

“Alright,” he said, jumping down from the transporter pad. “I need a shower.” From the corner of his eye he saw Spock’s eyebrow raise. “Well someone else had my body, god knows where it’s been.”

“The evidence suggests that he took a good deal more care of your body than you did his,” Spock pointed out as they left the room, Scotty falling in behind them.

“Yeah, well I entrusted him with the safety of my ship – fair trade. Speaking of which, I want to see the bridge first – if he’s even put one scratch on her-”

“Actually , by all reports Prince Arthur made a very effective Captain.”

The door of the turbo lift closed on them as Scotty said: “He was an excellent lad.”

Kirk turned to stare at them both. “He what?”Fic

“The crew all grew very fond of him, and before my return he led the ship in a battle against a squadron of Romulan Warbirds, in which the Enterprise destroyed three of the enemy whilst the ship suffered very little damage and no loss of life. Star Fleet Command has offered you a further commendation over the engagement.”

“Wait,” Kirk said, horrified. “So I couldn’t even win a simple swordfight – but he managed to get a commendation?”

“That is the case.” If he didn’t know any better, Kirk would have thought Spock was amused.

He was still fuming as the door to the turbo lift glided open, revealing the bridge. The sight still took his breath away. This was home. This was his. Here he was the king. He strode towards the Captain’s Chair, eager for the feel of it around him again and stopped-

“Why,” Kirk asked his voice dangerously low, “Is there a dog in my chair?”