Chapter Text
Day 15 - Sleigh Ride || Sleigh bells, foggy breath, and the smell of cedar.
“Whoa there, girl,” McCoy murmured to the … well, it wasn’t a horse. Six legs and four eyes, but otherwise horse-like enough. His grandpappy had had horses back on Earth when McCoy was a boy, and that admission had been enough for Scotty to turn over horse duty to him shortly after they arrived.
The horse-thing snorted, its breath puffing in the cold air, and the sleigh slid to a stop in the snow, its bells jingling. Scotty jumped out, patted the horse, and started unloading their load of supplies. McCoy jumped out behind him and handed the horse-thing a few cubes of sugar he’d been carrying around in his pocket to bribe the thing. It lifted the sugar with velvet lips, belying the fangs beneath.
“Morning,” McCoy called cheerfully to the shop owner waiting for their delivery of coal, and climbed back into the sleigh. They’d become friendly with everyone in town since moving in three weeks ago. They had no idea, of course, that Scott and McCoy were actually Starfleet officers, and aliens besides.
This was deep undercover work in a pre-industrial society, with the Prime Directive very much in force. The Captain hadn’t been thrilled with dropping his chief engineer and chief medical officer alone on an alien world and then warping away, but Starfleet had concerns about both technological and genetic interference from the Klingons on this agrarian world. One which had no idea that they were abutted by Federation space and Klingon space, that there was a Federation listening post at its North Pole, or that it was strategically important on an interstellar level.
They were posing as travelers from a distant town, come to seek adventure and fortune, but glad for now to make deliveries to scrape by. Fuel delivery for heating in mid-winter put them everywhere—in shops, homes, and buildings without drawing suspicion, where they could carefully scan for Klingon activity.
Delivery done, Scotty swung back into the sleigh beside McCoy. “Go, horse,” McCoy clicked at the thing, which honestly seemed to roll its eyes in long-suffering before heading off on the path that it knew well. “I’m not sure the horse likes me,” he grumbled.
“Probably because it doesnae like being called a horse,” Scott murmured vaguely, snuggling in closer beside McCoy. Out of range of watching eyes, he glanced down at his tricorder. “There’s energy readings that are wrong, but I still cannae pinpoint them.”
If the Klingons were near, it was actively dangerous here. But snuggled beside Scotty in the cold, with the horse clip-clopping and sleigh bells jingling, it was easy to pretend they were on earth. He leaned into Scotty and stole a kiss. The horse-thing was looking back at them with one of its four eyes, and seemed vaguely amused. McCoy closed his eyes to avoid its judgment.
“Are you going tae drive or just kiss me?” Scotty asked, and poked him in the ribs. They were passing through a thick stand of towering trees that smelled of deep, smoky cedar.
“The horse knows the way,” McCoy hummed, but opened his eyes. Scotty was grinning at him, and when he looked at his boyfriend, they definitely were not on Earth. Those were Scotty’s eyes, but not his face; both of them had had minor surgery before they arrived to give them decidedly non-human marks and ridges. McCoy reached out and touched him, letting his fingers glide over the human patches across his cheek and down his neck. “You’ve got coal on your face.”
“Burning fossil fuels,” Scotty grumbled. “I’m about ready tae set up a fusion reactor in the center of town tae keep these people warm.”
“I’m sure Starfleet would have no objections,” McCoy deadpanned, and took the reigns again.
The horse snorted in alarm at the exact moment that McCoy’s medical tricorder pinged the one warning he’d hoped not to hear: Klingon life signs, and close. Scotty knocked McCoy to the side, hard, tumbling them both into the snow as disruptor fire passed overhead.
McCoy gasped, the air knocked straight out of him. The horse-thing whinnied in deep alarm, and then ran in terror; they had to roll to keep from being crushed by the sleigh. Scotty’s arm was around his waist, half carrying him behind one of the big trees. The Engineer's other hand was wrapped around a phaser. “I think there might be Klingons,” Scott said dryly.
“No shit,” McCoy growled.
“You are surrounded, Starfleet,” a voice said through the trees, and four simultaneous bursts of weapons fire from every direction proved it. Then four Klingons stepped into the clearing, closing on them. “You have a choice. You can die honorably in battle, now. Or you can surrender and die sometime next week after we torture you for all the information you know.”
The men glanced at each other, their hearts sinking. This was very bad. Scotty tossed his phaser out into the snow, and stepped out. “Scotty!!” McCoy hissed at him.
“He doesnae know anything,” Scott called fiercely, turning to focus on the one who appeared to be the commander. “He’s not Starfleet, just some kid who’s been helping me. You want me. My name is Scott. I’m the chief engineer of a Federation Starship. But you’ll get nothing from me.”
“A brave noise, Starfleet,” the Klingon laughed derisively. “You will die badly. Take them both,” he said, turning away.
But abruptly, suddenly, a half ton of snorting, foaming, fanged, six-legged horse—and one merrily jingling sleigh—stormed through the clearing. The horse headed for the Klingons, bucking wildly, biting, kicking it’s too-many hooves. Scott and McCoy froze while the horse spread bloody carnage around them. Then it stopped, eyes rolling, chest heaving, nose to nose with McCoy.
“Uh, good horse?” McCoy said, and slowly reached for his pocket. “Some sugar?” he offered. The horse puffed happily and munched it docilely out of his palm.
Scotty eased past the horse and patted it on the way by tie up the unconscious troop of a Klingons. “Yeh auld thing,” he murmured fondly. “Not a fan of Klingons, aye?”
The horse-thing nudged McCoy again, snuffling at his pockets. “Talk about a one-horse open sleigh,” he said in admiration, handing the horse the rest of the treats, then reached for his communicator. “McCoy to Enterprise. I think we’ve found our evidence of Klingon interference …”