Hey everyone! We've returned to Beginnings and Blockades after that short commercial break!

*silence*

Uh. Yeah. Sorry everyone. Real Life took over. Rice-bowl exams and the sort. I hope this long chapter makes up for the epic break, along with the promise that I'll be more regular in the future. For the next eight months, at least :). I still own nothing. Cannae believe I hafta say thut evreh time! Yeah. My Scotty accent isn't as good as the original either. Oh wells. Also. I HAVE A PLOT! Ah'm gonna scream it from the roof-tops—I HAVE A PLOT! Oh glory! No one stop-breathing! :D

OI! This is IMPORTANT! in this chapter, I'm taking liberties. I'm assuming that Starfleet is the official peace-keeping military force of the Federation, but it operates as an independent body under the pay of the Federation. But because if they were only paid by the Federation it would be equivalent to a government job as a civil servant, they also have external funding (ie. investors), because they need to keep themselves in good shape. If any other firm presents its' ability to do the 'fleet's work, they'll be hired instead. Because the Federation was formed by Vulcan and Earth, the 'fleet had HQ on Vulcan and Earth, and for obvious reasons, there's only one left.

*cackles gleefully* *knocks ankles together* I HAVE A PLOT!

Spock and Jim walked in-perfect-step towards Admiral Faelnirev's office in silence. Even to a passer-by who didn't know them well, it would have looked like they were very close, which they were. Even their arm-swings, though different in magnitude and style, were in-sync. Together, Jim thought, they made the perfect pair, be it in casual life, or as a command team. They literally completed each other, and he wondered why his mother couldn't, or wouldn't, see that. It would make life so much easier if she hadn't come. But her arrival, though unexpected, was probably inevitable. She was attracted to attention like a fly to honey, and the comparison was entirely apt.

Right now, even though he hadn't exerted himself much, he really wanted to go to sleep, preferably with Spock. But even then, if Winona barged in, in the middle of the night, it could make things really uncomfortable. Dealing with his mother made him tired. And hungry, judging by the way his stomach rumbled.

His communicator buzzed and he quickly scrolled through a message from someone in the R&D department, telling him, and all other command pairs to pass their personal communicators to the tech department for considerable augmentation, in consideration of their upcoming mission.

He was surprised and reasonably sure this message would make more sense after they'd been briefed, but for now he passed it to Spock wordlessly. It was illegal to share communiqués between colleagues, especially if one of the colleagues had not received the message, but he couldn't care less. Spock would find out anyway. But then his surprise began magnifying. He rechecked the message; the sender was someone he'd never heard of before.

The R&D department took in people like employees were going out of fashion, so he wasn't surprised that he didn't know the sender. But normally, the only people who sent messages to the field-agents were the high-ups, who targeted Captains and Commanders and allowed information to disseminate as it would. The high-ups were people who had been there for an awful long time, and who would stay there until the day they died (which would co-incide with the day they left; 'fleet intelligence was a little over-zealous—they would never take the chance that a disgruntled employee 'accidentally' let slip some confidential information—they would take the measures needed, never mind that almost everyone disapproved)

If one of the high-ups was fired, or died, he'd have heard of it. Maybe he was being paranoid or something, but something didn't feel right.

And it was an additional oddity that the command pairs were being briefed apart from the rest of the crews. What could they possibly want?

Spock listened quietly to his thought process, and commented. "Perhaps you are right, Jim. A deviation from norm is far from expected, especially from the R&D department. And if it was necessary, surely they would have included an explanation for their lapse in standard protocol."

He didn't want to hand in his comm. unit. He didn't think he'd be able to survive one day without it. It had everything on it—all his personal details, important classified information, everything. The 'fleet had gone so far as to retina-code and DNA-code their comm. units for privacy. If he were up to something, the first thing he would target was the communications system.

Spock nodded, and an ensign who was hurrying by stared before shrugging and walking away. Jim and Spock thought nothing of it—they were used to it.

They walked past the halls in which everyone else was assembling, and it looked normal, but Jims' spider-senses (name courtesy of Bones) were tingling (again; Bones) and with every second that passed he grew more agitated.

There really was no reason he should be so stressed, except for the fact that his instincts were telling him something. He'd learned, in a life full of peril, to listen to his instincts. They'd saved him and many other people before. Spock agreed. It would be best if he raised this point to the captains before they surrendered their comms. He quickly messaged all his fellow captains and received their acknowledgements. If there were any consequences to be dealt with, he'd do it, but for now it was better to be safe than sorry.

They reached Admiral Faelnirev's office and knocked on the door. They were summoned inside by a husky female voice, who told them to let themselves in. Which they did, only to see a woman dressed in a bath-robe sitting behind the desk.

Admiral Faelnirev was an exceptional admiral, having completed two of the most successful five-year runs in history. The admiralty had decided to promote her, and she had almost said no, but it was probably the first and last time they'd ask a human woman to join their ranks, so, as a representative of women world-wide, she eventually accepted and tied herself down to the desk (hating every second of it). She was known for doing things against the grain. She was also a beautiful woman, having aged with grace and dignity.

Jim was still staring, unable to process why she'd be dressed in a bathrobe. Spock politely looked away.

She grinned, completely transforming her stern face into an approachable and friendly one, frown-lines replaced almost totally by smile-lines and crows' feet. "Come on, you two. Haven't you ever seen a woman before? And you, Jim Kirk, with all your famed charm and wit? You can't expect me to believe that this is anything new, right, Captain?"

Jim blushed, and she laughed. "Apparently the admirals have forgotten that I'm not a man and sent you all here. I was taking a shower!" which explained her dripping hair and the bath-robe.

"So," she asked, combing her hair, while they waited for the others to arrive. "How's your secret relationship coming along?" and both Jim and Spock turned to stare at her, Jim slightly open-mouthed, Spock's face completely blank. They hadn't told anyone but their close friends, especially not anyone in the admiralty who might strenuously disapprove of their relationship. Jim couldn't imagine how she found out.

The door creaked open and she winked and turned away.

She knows.

So it appears.

How?

I confess, I am at a loss to explain her knowledge. She does not, however, appear to disapprove.

Yeah. She winked. She's joking around with us. I think we gave ourselves away. You know people have been guessing at this for a while now. She only had to see our reactions to know there is truth to the rumour.

Very wise, t'hy'la. Perhaps I'm influencing you.

Jim rolled his eyes, but grinned. Spock had a devilish sense of humor when it came down to it, expressed mainly through his eyes, so no one else saw it. But he was glad he was the only one who saw it, like Spock only shared that with him.

Admiral Faelnirev was chatting briskly with the next command team that had walked in, Captain Walker and Commander Ishera, of the U.S.S. Endeavor, the Enterprises' sister ship, and second in their fleet.

Walker nodded at both of them, while Ishera wriggled his antennae in greeting. Both Spock and Jim nodded simultaneously, and Faelnirev chuckled. Walker turned to look at Faelnirev, and gave Jim a look that clearly spoke volumes about what he thought of Faelnirev's sanity, or lack-there-of. But Jim and Spock knew better. Well, Jim, at least, knew why she giggled, and passed it on to Spock. Who shook his head at the illogic of it, making Jim grin.

Within the next three minutes, the room was packed. Not many people commented on the Admiral's attire, except for Admiral Pike who walked in last, and said, "People are gonna start getting ideas about this, Maggie. A group of high-flying men in a room with their older, undressed, female supervisor? I'm seeing headlines!"

She grinned. "Nice to see you too, Chris." He touched his hat in response. He'd been nothing short of outspoken in his defense of Faelnirev's command style, and she appreciated that. For now, Jim guessed, he was there to witness.

But then it was down to business. "Okay guys and gals, we have a problem. Well, clearly, but you know. Now, the story that's being fed to the sheep out there, is that we're receiving a distress call from Jeirda V in sector six, which is true, but it's being dealt with as we speak. The dick who held up the ambassadors to the neighbouring planets forgot that all ambassadors carry charge stunners inbuilt to their clothes. There will be consequences, but we'll burn that bridge when it comes to it. But the real problem, here on Earth, is that we're being hacked." She paused to let it sink in.

"The 'fleet's got the best security system in the world and in the better part of the quadrant! How could we have been hacked?" Walker asked, almost to himself. A top graduate of the computing academy in London, he'd played a part in setting up the revolutionary EM shields that protected them from both real and virtual attack. They were almost impossible to beat, sending out electromagnetic waves that repelled any external impulse as well as charged particles. It was controlled from the inside, so a hack would mean that someone had found a loophole, or it was an inside job.

"We don't know. But we're following the protocol for these kinds of things. Complete and absolute shutdown. I don't care. Everything—off. I'm sure all of you received a communiqué earlier, after the bell rang, ordering you to surrender your comm. units, followed shortly by one from Captain Kirk asking you to desist. While we disapprove of Captain Kirk going around us," she caught his eyes teasingly, "we commend his initiative. We trust that no one surrendered their units. We believe that was their plan—to literally take the information we offered them."

There was a moment of literally pin-drop silence as they processed this. The fact that the admiralty was shutting down technology within the campus was a sign that this was already serious. It was a pretty drastic move. It was even more worrying to think that they would have unsuspectingly handed over their information to the enemy without a second thought.

As always, Spock saw beyond the problem in front of them. "Have we been able to trace the hacks?"

"We have been yet unable to trace the message to its' origin." Faelnirev's tone was grave; she was worried.

"Then, with your approval, Lieutenant Montgomery Scott and myself will assist the efforts in increasing the efficiency of out defenses."

She smiled. "Excellent suggestion, Spock. Is there anyone else who can offer technological insight into this sort of stuff? Except you, Walker, and Kirk. I know you two know your way around technology, but I need you in charge of your crews. Anyone?"

A voice from the back of the room offered his Vulcan science officer, if he had no objections. "Call him and ask. The science officers would have been directed to the tech labs by now anyway. Tell him to report to Hall Seventeen—we've set up an impromptu command centre in there."

"Impromptu? Why? What's wrong with the main command centre?" It was Walker, having caught the key word.

She looked at them. "It's been fried."

The room rippled in tangible shock. "Clarify the colloquialism, Admiral." It was Spock.

It's gone, Spock. Destroyed.

"Fried, Spock. Totaled, demolished, annihilated, ruined, destroyed in an electrical surge." Spock nodded, acknowledging both inputs.

"Do you suspect it was foul play or coincidence?" Ishera asked, speaking for the first time, in his clipped, high-pitched voice.

Faelnirev opened her mouth then closed it. Jim was surprised. She was not known for censoring herself. "We are not at liberty to say, Commander Ishera. As for now, we have no suspicions, and we are not, I repeat, not to take any action against anyone except defensive measures. Got it?"

A quiet, "yessir," resounded through the room.

"Admiral, what about the people out there? What's the story?" Jim asked, watching her response as carefully as he listened.

"Well. The plan is, they don't get involved unless this thing goes bad. We don't need wide-spread panic right now. It would cripple us, the way investors would withdraw their funds. We know, you know, the 'fleet is the biggest organisation, anywhere. And we have our HQ on Earth. It's our only HQ. If word gets out that we're off kilter, just watch. It'll be havoc on the streets. And the Federation, ugh. There'll be hell to pay in the form of reports and paychecks, mark my words." It was a sign of how serious the situation was that no one laughed.

"Right now we're just informing them about the attack on Jierda V, and about the casualties and other details. We needed an excuse to get you all in here. Now listen. There's no way for us to contact you once you turn off your communicators. Even the computer systems in your residential apartments will be shut down, so that no one can spy on you, if this is an inside job."

"So, all of you will have to report here twice a day, hell or high water. I expect regular reports on sheep-morale as well as any suspicious activities during this period. Spock, until further notice, you're our link with the geeks. I want reports from you too, every day, about the progress you're making. And I know each one of you hates writing reports, but just remember—I have to read them. You're dismissed."

The room emptied quickly, and Jim and Spock turned to walk back to their place. There was nothing they could do except follow orders, for now.

At the Assembly

Admiral Archer was heading the assembly, and he looked… grumpy. Well, grumpier than usual, according to Bones. And it took one to know one.

It might have had something to do with the fact that the mans' shirt was buttoned up wrong, and his fly was half undone. And he was suddenly-bald, which meant he normally wore a toupee, which was just plain weird. Nyota grinned when she saw him; her expression was mirrored in all the other crews faces. It was a ridiculous picture.

They waited for people to stream in for another five minutes before he started talking. Bones couldn't help but think of the last time he'd been here, watching Jim Kirk getting court-martialed by Spock, his now lover. Which was still creepy, but okay; to each his own, and all that.

"Cadets and Officers of Starfleet, you are assembled here today because we received a distress call from Jierda V, a half-hour ago." The now-senior officers stiffened, including Bones. It was terrifyingly similar to the opening statement all those years ago, before the Narada Incident. And everyone remembered how that had turned out.

"A human male, by the name of Eiholin attacked a group of ambassadors of six planets in the vicinity, and held them up in a room refusing to let them go until they met his demands. The poor fool was shocked by a fast Jierdan ambassador and his inbuilt charger, and died of a cardiac arrest on the spot, but the Klingons are claiming foul play on the part of the Federation men who were supposed to have stopped this kind of thing from happening."

"While it is a clearly ridiculous claim, the ambassador of Tessik Prime is apparently flattered by the Klingons' attention, and is considering an alliance. For those of you who do not doze off in your stellar cartography lectures, you would know that Tessik Prime is a major source of dilithium crystals, without which starships cannot function."

Archers' drone was monotonous, and yet Bones felt something was off. Two people, Scotty and a Vulcan from some other ship, left half way through the speech after checking their communicators, so he assumed they'd been summoned to help out.

"At the moment we are concerned about both retribution from Tessik Prime, and attack by the Klingons and their supporters in an attempt to win over Tessik's dilithium supplies. We will be deploying ships in a show of force, but we will retain a large number of people here, to maintain order and not rouse panic."

The briefing ended within half an hour (of sheer, mind-numbing boredom), with the orders for four of the ships in dock out of eight to suit up and head out, Christmas or not. The Enterprise was obviously one of them, because god forbid a single diplomatic incident occur without the Fleet sending out their flagship to babysit everyone.

The other three were intended to stick around sneaky-like, just in case the Klingons decided to attack. Sometimes McCoy wished they didn't have to deal with all this damned politics. If some jerk did something wrong which everyone knew was wrong, the aforementioned jerk should be punished, diplomatic immunity be damned!

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder; Nyota. She was most likely reading his mind and laughing at him. His wife had never seen his political incorrectness as funny. She'd never seen anything he did as funny.

Nyota was probably the sweetest thing to have happened to him since his daughter, and he wasn't sure what he'd do without her. He knew what she'd say about the whole institution of marriage and all, but he wanted to make an honest woman of her. It wasn't like he didn't worry himself to death enough about those two idiots on the bridge during missions; one more, much better looking worry-ee would scarcely make a difference.

"What're you thinking, Len?"

He almost shrugged, before realizing she'd probably noticed something too. "Dunno. Feels… fishy."

"Like they're hiding something, right? I mean, the Klingons do this shit on a regular basis. Why are they so nervous about it?" She twisted a tendril of dark hair around a finger in an absentminded gesture he loved.

Then he remembered Jim's mother. "Shit."

"She's alone," Nyota replied, still in sync with his thoughts.

"Shall we go face her off?"

"Lead the way, Len." She schooled her face into her sternest one, and Bones knew she wasn't mad about the racist remarks. Rather, she was mad about the way Winona had spoken to her son, and the way they'd realized she'd raised him. It was quietly horrifying. Jim was the most open-minded person they knew, in more ways than one, and one with the biggest heart. They hated that she didn't see how much he was loved because of who he was. It made her mad, and Bones didn't argue when Nyota was mad.

Bones sent a message to Jim, saying that they were going to use their spare key, but got no reply…

"Captain Kirk, remain behind for a moment." Spock raised an eyebrow, meeting Jim's eyes.

"Commander Spock, you may leave." Spock left, giving Jim a significant look, which Jim returned. He could read it like Spock had said it out loud.

Be careful. Watch what you say. They're friends but they're still admiralty. I love you. I'll see you soon.

With Spock not there to watch his back, Jim felt like a student in front of his furious principal, even though Admiral Faelnirev looked pretty okay. Pike looked tense, and his eyebrows furrowed more than usual.

He stood at parade rest.

"Relax kid. It's a quiet mission."

He blinked. "Isn't it a really bad idea to give a flagship a quiet mission?" Quiet missions were primary tasks disguised as secondary tasks. Like they were told to do something at all costs, while pretending to do something else. There were ships trained in this kind of shit, but no one knew which ones were conducting what mission, because they were pretty good at keeping it quiet.

Pike replied this time. "Yes, Jim. It is. But we don't have a choice. Not with our system in the state it is now."

"It's worse than you told us?" Jim was feeling even more unsettled than he had a while back. Layers beneath layers, and he wasn't sure where he stood anymore.

Faelnirev and Pike exchanged glances, making Jim even more worried. Whatever it was, was really bad. "Mohinder was attacked on his ship in the Beta Quadrant. He didn't make it."

Jim's jaw dropped. Mohinder had been an excellent captain on the U.S.S. Titanic, a man to Jim's heart, who cared less about senseless rules and more about the people who served under his command. He had been Jim's friend, despite the fact that Mohinder was a good twelve years older than him. They'd gone to him for real-world advice on how to deal with the admiralty and other shit. He had been a good man.

"The Beta Quadrant is nowhere near the," Jim glances at his PADD to remind himself, "the Tessik system. The Titanic has nothing to do with the dilithium situation. They were just patrolling dead space, right?"

Pike sighed. "Yes. They were patrolling the dead space near a star nebula known as the Roerich cluster, home to planets which had not yet achieved warp."

"Civilized?" Jim asked, cautiously. Warning bells were ringing in his head, and Spock was waiting two buildings away to make sure he was okay.

"Yes." Faelnirev's face was still, waiting for his reaction. He didn't disappoint.

"Then what the hell were they doing?" Jim exploded. "Prime Directive states that—"

"We know what the Prime Directive states. Do not interfere in non-warp civilizations. Blah blah blah. But the 'Fleet works in a different way, Jim. Have you ever heard of Section 31?" Pike was almost whispering, as if worried he'd be overheard.

Jim stilled, dropping the semi-permeable barrier between his and Spock's minds. He shook his head. Somewhere on the other side of the campus, Spock sat down on a bench, and focused.

"Section 31, Jim, is the 'Fleet's dirty little secret. It's the reason all this is happening."

Tadaa! Long chapter for everyone! SEE THE PLOTTINESS? It's there and there, and there!

I really hope I haven't lost touch with this piece. I felt a wee bit awkward writing, like out of practice and stuff. But I swear, I have a plan. And I won't forget about Winona. And I will update soon, because MY 'A' LEVELS ARE OOOOVER!

I'm really sorry for the long break in between chapters. I couldn't help it. I really couldn't. I had to study.

This is my Christmas present to ya'll though, because you're so damned awesome and I love you to pieces for all the reviews I know you'll send. I'm flying off on a much needed holiday on Wednesday, and nothing's packed because I had to write this chapter. See how much I love you? Say you love me too! :)

Buckets of Love,

Lady Merlin